Christmas morning dawned bright and early. Claire awoke, at first startled that she had been asleep. It had proved to be a fitful night. She had been content being in his arms but hadn’t rested well with the ring weighing heavily on her finger. Not with so many unanswered questions swimming around in her head.

Quietly, so as not to wake the others, she made a pot of coffee and settled down with her thoughts. Each time she moved her hand, she couldn’t help but stare at the ring Tristan had given her.

She wanted to believe that she meant something to him and that’s why he had given her such a beautiful gift. But he hadn’t said the words. He hadn’t said that he loved her and that’s what she had to hear.

She sighed. She loved Tristan. She always had. But it seemed now that he had come back into her life, she loved him even more. She loved him differently as well. She loved the fact that he snored when he slept on his left side and he liked his coffee with four sugars. She loved the crooked smile he had when he was teasing her and the lock of golden brown hair that fell over his forehead.

But as much as she loved these things—as much as she loved him—she couldn’t let herself be deceived. Tristan had talked about Christmases in the future, but he hadn’t talked about love in return. The simple fact nagged at her heart. If he didn’t love her, then why had he given her a ring? Why had he talked as if he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her?

Or at least another year.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it all came down to money.

Why hadn’t she paid more attention to the terms of his aunt’s will? Could it be that Tristan only wanted her back because of his inheritance? As much as it pained her heart, it could be. After all, that was the reason he’d married her to begin with. Now that Devin and Esperanza weren’t together, maybe Tristan had a shot at regaining his inheritance. Their divorce—though drawn up—wasn’t final. The papers hadn’t been signed. Depending on the terms of the will, Tristan could possibly still get his money if he talked her into staying with him.

The thought made her head ache. It made her nauseous.

She took a sip of her coffee to alleviate the feeling, knowing full well that she couldn’t go on this way. She had just gotten her life in order when Tristan popped back into it. She had just made her plans. She was just starting to feel like the person she wanted to become. And now this.

Give it some time, Nanie would say. But how much?

Claire had already decided to give her houseguests until Christmas before she talked to them about moving out and today was Christmas. She would give Tristan today. If he hadn’t said the words by six o’clock tonight, then she would know that he wasn’t sincere, that he didn’t love her. Then she could go on with the rest of her life.

♥♥♥

Devin dry swallowed the aspirin and resisted the urge to chase it with whatever liquor he could find in Claire’s cabinets. Alcohol wasn’t the answer, but he was at a loss.

For once in his life he knew exactly what he wanted. But he couldn’t have it. He’d messed up royally. Funny how a man didn’t see what he had until it was gone. And for a time he had it all: a beautiful wife, his inheritance, a new designer for McFarland Manufacturing, and a baby on the way. Everything.

And now it was gone…all of it.

But that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying to get them back.

The bathroom door opened and Espie stepped out, took one look at him, and started back inside.

“Espie. Wait.” He laid a hesitant hand on her arm. “Please.”

She pulled away, crossing her arms as she frowned at him. “Please what, Dev-in?”

Funny, but he had never noticed the rhythmic way that she said his name. He liked it, and he wanted her to keep saying it every day for the rest of their lives.

“Please everything.”

She blew her hair out of her eyes but made no comment.

It wasn’t a concession, but at least she hadn’t retreated back into Claire’s room.

“Please hear me out. Please give me another chance. Please let me love you.”

Her mouth twitched as she fought her inner demons. But her dark eyes were unreadable. “Okay,” she said with a brief nod. “Because it’s Christmas only. I do not want to spoil it with Claire and Tristan.”

Devin shoulders slumped in relief. It was a start.

Small, but a start.

♥♥♥

“Are you all right?”

Claire jerked out of her Tristan-filled thoughts and turned to address Devin. “I’m fine.”

Tristan’s brother looked like warmed over hairballs, and Claire was certain that she couldn’t look much better. Dark circles had formed under his eyes from his sleepless night in the bathtub. Claire knew it wasn’t possible, but the poor, lovesick man looked as if he’d lost twenty pounds since his arrival the day before.

Esperanza didn’t look much better either, but Claire couldn’t tell if it was morning sickness or the lingering effects of her own sleepless night. She suspected it was a combination of both.

Claire had been surprised when Esperanza had peeked out of the bedroom earlier in the day. Claire was beginning to think that she might keep herself locked inside for eternity. However, it seemed that she and Devin had called a Christmas truce which allowed the four of them to attempt to enjoy a family holiday dinner. The tensions around the table were high and after eating only half of her plate of Tristan’s gourmet Christmas goose, Espie had opted to lie down for the rest of the afternoon.

After the clean-up, Tristan, Claire, and Devin had watched a football game and a parade on the big screen TV Tristan had had delivered for Christmas. Claire was beyond asking where the money came from. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

What a mess the three of them were. Tristan was the only one of them who appeared to have gotten any sleep. He’d whistled all morning long as he’d prepared their Christmas dinner. Now he was out walking Bruno, enjoying the light dusting of snow that made up the very rare Texas white Christmas.

“You’ve been really quiet all day,” Devin continued.

“Have I?” she asked, knowing full well that she had. She had been trying to give Tristan all of the airtime that he needed to declare his love for her.

How ironic. She had been waiting for the slightest whisper of love from Tristan while Devin was shouting his feelings to the rooftops and Espie wouldn’t relent. How ironic indeed.

“My brother loves you, you know.”

“No,” Claire said with a small shake of her head. “I don’t know.”

Tristan loved money. It was all a matter of money. Tristan had been wooing her all week long. He had bought her present after expensive present, living so far beyond his means that it could only mean one thing: he thought he could win her back and in doing so regain his family fortune.

She moved her hand to push back her bangs. The diamond he’d placed there last night flashed, a wickedly sharp reminder. Tristan didn’t really love her. Just as always, he only wanted her for what she could get for him: 36.3 billion dollars.

♥♥♥

Esperanza pressed a hand to the flat plane of her stomach and thought of the child growing there. A tiny thing right now, no bigger than a peanut. But it was there.

She sighed. She had been so happy to find out that she was pregnant, but that was before she knew what Devin was about.

If it were just her, it would be different. But she had a child to think about. An innocent baby who needed both of its parents to succeed.

And then there was Devin’s heartfelt plea from this morning. He wanted a second chance. And as much as she wanted to, she was afraid twice that.

If she took him back would that mean he would get his inheritance? Is that all this was to him?

There was only one way to find out. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then went in search of her husband.

She didn’t have to go far. As soon as she took two steps out of her bedroom…well, Claire’s bedroom, he was there.

“Esperanza.”

A little bit of her heart melted as he said her name. It sounded like a prayer on his lips. She wanted to fall to her knees in front of him, beg him to love her, but only God’s hand kept her upright. She wanted them to be together, forever, the way it should be, but she didn’t have to make it easy for him.

She gave him a regal nod that also served to hide the wobble in her chin. “Devin. I will talk to you now.”

His green eyes lit with an emotion she was afraid to name. But she wanted it to be love. Oh, how she wanted that.

Without waiting to see if he followed, she turned on her heel and made her way back to Claire’s room.

As she perched on the bed, Devin quietly closed the door behind himself and leaned back against it with a sigh. “I love you,” he said, his face lighting up like the Christmas tree Tristan and Claire had decorated the day before.

How she wanted to believe him. “If we go back, do you get your aunt’s money?”

His handsome brow furrowed, and it took everything she had not to rush to his side to smooth the wrinkles away. That was the old Esperanza. The new one had more than a man to think about. Regardless of the fact that she loved him without end.

“I suppose. I mean, I hadn’t really thought about it.”

She searched his face looking for deceit or arrogance. Anything to indicate his sincerity. Or lack of…

He hooked a thumb over one shoulder. “You want me to ask Tristan?”

She shook her head.

Devin pressed his lips together, closed his eyes for a moment. Just long enough that Esperanza wondered if he were praying. Then he opened them again, and she saw tears glistening within the beautiful green depths. “Are you worried that I can’t take care of you? I can. I promise you that. You and the baby.” He shook his head as if to realign his thoughts. “You mean more to me than anything. And I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you. Anything.”

The sheer fierceness of his last word had her heart pounding in her chest. Did he mean it? Did he really mean it?

Devin pushed away from the door and made his way to her side.

Her breath quickened, faster and faster the nearer he got. Then he reached her side and held out one hand to her.

“I’ll renounce my claim on the McFarland money and work at Burger King if that’s what it takes. I just want to be with you.”

Her fingers trembled as she laid her hand into his.

He pulled her to her feet, then dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her belly.

He held her close as she ran her fingers through his hair, holding him close.

“I love you, Espie McFarland. I think I always have. And I know you love me. Please…please say you’ll be my wife. For real this time.”

Tears fell from her eyes as a happy laugh escaped her. “I love you, too, De-vin.”

“And we’ll be a family.” He pressed another kiss to the place where his child grew inside her.

A family.

Maybe Azó Maria had been right after all.

♥♥♥

The front door shut, and Claire jumped. She could hear Tristan whistling a tuneless melody behind her. The cheery sound grated on her already raw nerves. She had been on pins and needles all day waiting for Tristan to say those words she so longed to hear. She couldn’t take it any longer. She’d told herself that he could have until six. It was four-fifteen now. Close enough.

“All right,” she practically yelled. Tristan and Devin turned to stare at her. “Everyone in the living room. Family meeting.”

“But Esperanza’s resting,” Devin said.

Claire nodded. “I know, but this is important. Wake her up.”

It took thirteen and a half nerve-racking minutes to gather everyone together and get them seated on the sofa. Now that it was accomplished, Claire wasn’t sure what exactly to say or how to begin.

As they watched her with speculative expressions on their collective faces, Claire ran her sweaty palms down the sides of her jeans and took a deep breath.

“I got a letter yesterday. Carnival has taken me on as an intern.”

“Oh, honey,” Tristan exclaimed, “that’s terrific.”

As Devin and Esperanza smiled at her, Tristan started to stand.

Claire held up one hand to stop his approach. “I leave after the first.”

As she said the words, she couldn’t look Tristan in the eye. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw him slowly sit back down.

Devin squeezed Esperanza to him. Espie smiled, everything seemed to be settled between the two of them. “We’re very happy for you,” he said.

Tristan remained silent.

“I’m happy, too.” A month ago—two weeks ago—that statement would have been true, but today it was a painful lie.

“The first of what?” Devin’s brow furrowed.

Tristan remained silent.

“The first of the year.”

Finally Tristan spoke. “When are you coming back?”

Claire twisted her hands together. His question was valid…and inevitable. “I’m not. I can finish my degree online and continue to work at the same time.” She wobbled a smile toward the three of them, but once again avoided Tristan’s gaze.

“What about us?” Esperanza asked.

“We can arrange for you to take over my lease here. That will give you a chance to get back on your feet until you can find something else.”

“What about us?” This came from Tristan.

Claire took another deep breath. “There is no us.”

He stood, but still she lacked the courage to look at him direct. “Not if you go traipsing off to the Caribbean.”

“Tristan, be serious.” She turned her eyes to him, realizing in a sudden rush that he was serious. She pushed her hope back down. For thirty-six point three billion dollars, even Bozo the Clown could get it together.

“What about these past two weeks?”

Claire steeled herself against the furious expression on Tristan’s face. He wasn’t angry with her because he loved her and he wanted her to stay. She knew in her heart that he was mad because once again he was going to lose it all. But she was tired of all these games. It was time to end it.

“What about last night?” he whispered. “I gave you a ring.”

“Tristan, we both know that all this…this…” She waved a hand in the air trying to find the word. Unable to verbalize, she started over. “If you don’t sign those papers, then we’re not divorced. And if we’re not divorced, then you still can inherit your uncle’s fortune.”

He shook his head. “We have to live together. In the same house.”

“That explains a lot.” She did her best to say the words as if her heart wasn’t breaking in two.

“You think this is all about money?”

“It always has been.”

Tristan clenched his jaw, a tiny muscle jerking as he faced her. Then without notice, he stomped to the hall closet. He jerked his tuxedo jacket off its hanger and pulled a folded stack of papers from inside along with a pen. Jacket forgotten, he dropped it to the floor, braced the papers against the wall, and scrawled his name in the spot marked with the X.

“There,” he said, his breathing heavy. “We’re divorced, and I’m broke. Now will you marry me?”

Claire didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Sure, he signed the papers, but she couldn’t lay her heart on the line again. She just couldn’t.

When she didn’t immediately answer, Tristan grabbed her arm and snatched up Devin’s keys from the hall table. “Hey, Dev, I’m borrowing your car.”

Devin only grunted in answer, but Claire could hear the smile behind the sound.

Tristan hauled her outside not bothering to get a jacket on their way out the door. Somehow, Claire thought it was best not to point out his oversight. It could have been the hazel fire that lit Tristan’s eyes or the stubborn set of his chin, it didn’t matter. For the time being, she knew she was better off keeping her mouth shut until he cooled down just a little.

She was afraid to even look at him as he maneuvered his brother’s car through the north Dallas neighborhood. His knuckles were white where they grasped the steering wheel. She had no idea where they were going and wasn’t about to start asking this late in the game.

After about ten minutes of silent driving, Tristan whipped the car into the pebbled drive of a palatial three story Tudor style house, complete with a big oak in the front yard and ivy growing up one side of the beautiful structure.

She didn’t have time to ask where they were before Tristan pulled her out of the car and marched her up to the front porch. He rang the bell, his finger heavy on the button as the summons sounded throughout the house.

The door opened and with one hand still around her upper arm, Tristan pushed past the startled maid and dragged Claire along behind him.

“Sir. Sir!” The uniformed woman called.

Tristan ignored her, winding his way through the golden lit rooms as if he’d been in the house a hundred times before.

Finally, they burst into a dining room, decorated for the season with red velvet ribbon and boughs of fresh pine. The elaborate table was set with all the finest holiday foods. Eight or so people ranging in age and varying in gender were all seated, enjoying their family holiday. Claire recognized only one of them.

“Mr. Masters,” she gasped as Tristan continued into the room and to the head of the table where the lawyer sat. Strange, but the man didn’t look at all surprised to see them.

Eating stopped and all eyes turned to them as Tristan dropped the divorce papers onto the table next to his aunt’s attorney. “We are divorced,” he announced. “Will you kindly tell my wife…my ex-wife that I’m broke?”

Masters turned his cold gaze toward Claire. Slowly, methodically, he placed his napkin by his plate and leaned back in his chair. Claire gulped, realizing that her heart was pounding. “He’s broke.”

Her head started to swim. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some elaborate set up.

“But…but…”

“But what?” Tristan released her and crossed his arms over his chest. He raised one brow in that “continue” manner that unnerved her.

Claire struggled to scrape together the flustered fragments of her composure. If Tristan was broke then maybe…

Maybe he wanted her for her.

“But the bedroom set,” she finally managed. “The big screen TV. This.” She held up her left hand, flashing the diamond that he’d placed there in the wee morning hours. “If you’re broke, then how could you afford this?”

A flush crept into his cheeks, but Claire couldn’t tell if it was chagrin or anger. “It’s only a carat.”

Claire threw up her hands as everyone at the table put down their forks to watch the show unfolding before them. “Only a carat. Only a carat. It’s a perfectly cut, one carat, yellow diamond, Tristan. It had to have cost a fortune.”

He shrugged. “I had a little tucked away for a rainy day.”

Maybe he had seen a weather report that she hadn’t. “How much?”

He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugged again. “A little over five.”

“Five thousand?”

“Five million,” he corrected, his head down.

Claire choked, all of the air leaving her lungs in a painful whoosh. “That’s not broke,” she wheezed.

“For me it is.”

He had a point there, but it would be easy for him to adjust to being poor with five million dollars at his fingertips.

“If you don’t need the money, then why did you give me the ring? Why all of the talk about the future?”

“Don’t you know?”

“No.” Everyone seated at the table spoke in unison, but Claire could only shake her head. All of a sudden her mouth had gone dry and she was unable to speak.

“I love you, Claire.”

A round of applause went up from the table.

“You…you love me?”

Tristan nodded. “More than McFarland Manufacturing. More than my uncle’s fortune. More than anything in the world. I want you to stay here in Dallas. With me. Do whatever it is you want to do most. But do it here.”

“And next Christmas?”

“I want to spend it with you and the new addition to our family.”

“Devin and Esperanza’s baby?”

“No, ours.”

Tears filled Claire’s eyes.

“Will you marry me, Claire McFarland? I can provide for you. Devin and I have decided to start our own company, designing and selling infant and maternity fashions. Please say yes.”

She nodded, rushing into his arms as a cheer rose from the table.

“That’s all well and good,” Masters said as Tristan’s lips descended toward her own. “Now get out of my house.”

 

 

EPILOGUE

 

Masters picked up the papers that his client’s nephew had left and smiled. His family had gone into the living room to drink coffee and have a slice of pecan pie. Tristan and Claire had gone to wherever it was that they were staying now and their holiday dinner had gone on without further interruption.

What a Christmas. He was certain that his old friend Patricia was looking down at them from heaven and smiling a bit herself.

Masters shook his head. Only Pat could manage to get herself a Christmas present after she was dead and gone. She had gotten the very thing she wanted most in life: “her boys” happily married. And from the sound of it, with children soon to follow.

Strange, how it took losing everything for the McFarland brothers to gain what every man really needed from life: love.

Not that the family fortune was a total wash. Oh, no, Patricia McFarland was too shrewd for that. Somehow, she knew how things would turn out. Somehow, she knew the boys would get married, that their wives would walk out, and that children would be born. That’s why the real will was set up the way it was.

He supposed he should tell Tristan and Devin about it soon. But he would give it a couple of months. After all, it wasn’t every day you told a man that his children—however unborn—were multi-billionaires. Not every day indeed.

 

~♥~♥~♥~♥~♥~

 

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status

Claire sighed contently. Over the last few days, life with Esperanza and Tristan had settled into a peaceful pattern. Espie had put up a good front, but Claire knew she cried when she thought no one was looking. Tristan cooked every meal and was growing steadily more irresistible every day—as if that were possible. Gone was the highly driven billionaire and in his place was a blue jean-wearing, lopsided-smile, average Joe. Claire fell deeper in love with him every day.

Just a few more days, she thought to herself. Tomorrow was Christmas and she couldn’t put anyone out around the holidays. But once the New Year arrived she and her two houseguests were going to have a talk. Until then…

She turned off the television, bored with the latest reality drama that was sweeping the nation. Despite the peace that surrounded her, she felt jumpy inside as if a bomb were about to explode and only she knew about it.

She looked across the living room to where Espie sat, silently flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine. She had been so quiet since arriving on Claire’s doorstep. No, quiet wasn’t the word. Closed mouthed was more appropriate.

Claire had tried on several occasions to get Esperanza to talk to her, but the woman seemed content to keep her problems to herself.

And then there was Tristan. He too seemed to have his secrets. Claire had tried numerous times to get him to tell her where he’d gotten the money for her new bedroom furniture, but he wasn’t divulging. Tonight, he was acting mysteriously as well, disappearing after dinner and cryptically stating that he would be back “later.”

A knock sounded at the door. Esperanza didn’t even blink.

“That must be Tristan. I bet he forgot his key.” Claire stood and went to answer the summons.

She was glad that Tristan was home. She needed the conversation.

With a smile on her face, she opened the door.

Devin McFarland, not Tristan, stood on the other side of the threshold.

“Where is she?” He stormed into the duplex, his eyes blazing, cheeks ruddy from the cold night air.

“Hi, Devin. Good to see you too. Come on in.”

Esperanza uttered something in Portuguese that Claire was glad she didn’t understand. Then Espie raced into Claire’s bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

Bruno barked ferociously as Devin ran through the small duplex after his wife. “Esperanza McFarland,” he called. “I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.” His voice took on a beseeching quality that even through Bruno’s bark, Claire could clearly hear.

She was stunned, not just by Espie’s quick departure and Devin’s hot on her trail entrance, but the desperation she heard in his tone. Could it be that Devin had had a change of heart and now cared for his wife?

“Espie,” Devin pounded on the bedroom door as Bruno jumped up and down, barking and snapping at his heels. “Please, come out and talk to me.”

“Hey, Claire.” Just then Tristan arrived back home—or at least an eight foot Douglas fir did. “Did you know there’s a Porsche just like Devin’s parked across the street?” Tristan’s voice wafted out from between the branches of the tree.

“It is Devin’s. What are you doing?” she asked, as Tristan pushed past her into the duplex, tree and all.

And to think, not five minutes ago she would have described her life as peaceful.

“It’s Christmas,” Tristan explained as he dragged the tree through the living room. He set it down on the opposite side from the fireplace. “Well, tomorrow is, anyway.”

“Yes, it is,” Claire agreed. “But what does that—”

“We need a Christmas tree” Tristan said as if that explained everything.

“We—I have a tree.” She pointed to the two and a half foot tabletop decoration.

Tristan scoffed. “That is garland.”

“Espie. Be reasonable,” Devin said, still pounding on the door. His words were punctuated by Bruno’s now hoarse barking.

“It’s a tree,” Claire argued and went to fetch the tiny dog. The way things were going, she needed the touch of his soft fur to help calm her nerves. “Besides,” she said as she scooped the pedigreed pooch into her arms. “I don’t have any decorations.”

“It’s okay. I got those, too.” Before she could say another word, Tristan dashed out the front door, returning only minutes later with five large bags bearing labels from various stores.

“Tristan, I—”

“Now you listen to me, Esperanza. That’s my baby, too.”

“Has he been here long?” Tristan asked, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

Claire shrugged. “That depends on how you look at it.”

“Fair enough,” Tristan quipped and started pulling decorations out of the bags.

Claire was floored at the varying quality of the ornaments. Some came from the local Sac and Save while others were name brand crystal and far too expensive for an out-of-work ex-billionaire to afford.

“Tristan, where did you get the money for all of this?”

Her husband looked up from unpacking the ornaments. “Didn’t your Nanie tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Claire shook her head. “No, but I do recall one about Greeks and their gifts.”

Tristan’s grin widened. “You’re in luck.”

She raised a brow. “How so?”

“I’m not Greek.”

Before she could answer, Devin’s shouts rose a decibel. “Fine,” he screamed at the solid wood of the door. “You can stay in there all you want, but I’m not going anywhere until you come out and talk to me.”

Her head started to pound at the temples. Great, another houseguest. Just where was this one going to sleep?

A loud thump sounded from the hallway followed by what could only be the sound of Devin sliding down the wall and into a sitting position on the floor.

Claire grimaced. Not exactly the best place to rest for the night, but with both beds taken it was about the only spot left.

Tristan shook his head in apparent disbelief. “Don’t quote me on this,” he said. “But I think it’s going to be one long night.”

♥♥♥

He was living on borrowed time. Tristan handed Claire the last of the ornaments for the tree. It was just after midnight, and she hadn’t said a word since they started hanging the decorations.

This Claire that he had been living with for the past couple of weeks was so different from the Claire that he had married, but one thing hadn’t changed: her brow wrinkled when she was annoyed.

Unfortunately, said brow had said wrinkles in it right now.

He supposed she could be annoyed with the fact that his brother and sister-in-law had crashed her house. Or perhaps she was mad about the remark he made about her Christmas tree. But he knew the truth. It was him.

He was no fool. Claire was attracted to him, and she didn’t want to be. Given enough time, she would get used to the idea again, but she didn’t want to. He could tell. She wanted him out. Him and his brother and his sister-in-law. Okay, maybe not Esperanza. But she definitely wanted Tristan out of her house. Not that she had been rude to him. Quite the opposite.

“Are you ready?”

Claire nodded as he went around the tree to where the light cord lay on the floor.

“Your tree, madam,” he said. Then with a sweeping bow, he plugged in the strings of multicolored lights.

Tristan smiled to himself as Claire inhaled sharply.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

She was right, it was beautiful. The most beautiful tree that Tristan had ever seen. Maybe it was because they had decorated it together or maybe it was because the ornaments were mismatched and didn’t coordinate perfectly with the decor of the room. Whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining. He had wanted the tree to be breathtaking. It was all part of his master plan to win over his wife.

“Come sit with me.” He offered a hand to Claire and led her to the foot of the tree. They sank to the floor beneath the fragrant branches.

“When we were little,” he whispered, not wanting his voice to ruin the magic of the moment. “Devin and I used to get up early on Christmas morning. We’d sneak downstairs and sit under the tree just like this and wait on Santa to visit.”

“We used to have a tree every year. We’d go hiking through the woods behind our house and cut one down and drag it home.” Claire’s voice, like his own, was barely above a whisper.

“Did your Nanie help you decorate it?”

Claire shook her head. “My parents. After they died and I went to live with Nanie and Pop, we didn’t have a tree.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

Tristan felt gut-punched. Eleven and no Christmas tree at all was worse than eleven and a tree that you couldn’t touch because the ornaments were made of hand blown glass.

“It doesn’t have to be that way, you know.”

Claire turned her eyes from the tree to study his face. “What way?”

Tristan reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a black velvet box. He opened it, took Claire’s left hand, and slipped a diamond onto her ring finger.

Her mouth fell open as she stared at the twinkling stone. It was beautiful, elegant in its simplicity. And had to have cost a small fortune. She closed her mouth, then opened it again. Opened it a second time, shook her head, and closed it again. “Tristan,” she finally managed.

He placed a finger over her lips. “Don’t say anything. Just hear me out.” He took a deep breath. He had been planning for this moment for days and now that it was here, he felt like a geeky nerd trying to ask the most popular girl at school to the prom. It wasn’t everyday a man told his wife that he loved her. At least not for the first time. But that’s where he found himself: in love with his wife. And it was turning out to be just the place he’d always wanted to be. “I want to spend every Christmas with you. I want to decorate a tree every year. Bake cookies, wrap presents. We would be so good together. I can see that now. Let us be good together.”

He bent closer to her and covered her mouth with his own. She tasted as sweet as he remembered, and he cherished the fact.

He told himself that he wasn’t going to push her, but good intentions were made to be left behind. Especially when she pressed her sweet form to his.

The spark that had been with them since day one fired back to life. It felt so good to kiss her once again.

Claire sighed, loving the feel of Tristan’s warmth so close to her, his heart pounding in rhythm with hers. This was madness, but she had fought him so long she’d grown weary. Yet the battle wasn’t just against him, it was against herself as well.

The Christmas tree lights blinked, sending multicolored twinkles spilling across them both. The night was beautiful and magical, and she should put a stop to the folly of his kiss.

But she didn’t want to; it was as simple as that.

He placed a hand on each side of her face and pulled her mouth from his. “Just think about it,” he whispered.

She could only nod in return. It would be all that she could think about. And it was all she did think about as they pulled the bed out and began to make it.

It had been hard enough to sleep next to him knowing that she loved him and knowing that he didn’t love her back. Now she had a ring. But no explanation of what it meant. There had been no declaration of love. No explanation of feelings.

Yes, they would be good together. They were good together, but was that enough?

Without another word spoken, the two of them settled onto the lumpy mattress. He pulled her to him, violating the strict stay to the left policy and she didn’t protest as long as he didn’t ask from her more than she was willing to give.. Still she knew it would be next to impossible to sleep with his warm form so close to her. But somehow as the snow started to fall outside, Claire drifted off.

 

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status

Claire watched in horror as her friend burst into tears. She gently wound her arm around one of Esperanza’s shoulders and pulled her inside as the woman continued to sob.

“Who is it?” Tristan came around the corner and into the foyer where Espie bawled her eyes out. “What happened?”

Claire shrugged as she led her friend to the couch. “I don’t know. She just said that Devin was a skunk and started crying.”

Espie hiccupped loudly and sniffed as fresh tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “I should never speaked English.”

Tristan caught Claire’s gaze over the top of Esperanza’s dark head. He looked as confused as Claire felt.

“Esperanza,” Claire started gently and in a soft voice. “Do you want to talk about this?”

Espie shook her head, even as the words began. The story of Esperanza’s pregnancy, and Devin’s candid revelation flowed out punctuated by sobs, hiccups, and many more tears.

Claire would have liked to believe that she was shocked, maybe even surprised by Devin’s behavior, but she wasn’t—not in the least. Devin had been a playboy, a ladies’ man and a gambler his whole life, there was no reason to believe that a forced marriage was going to change that. But even as rotten as he had acted, he did deserve one courtesy.

“Have you talked to him since you decided to leave?” Claire asked.

Espie shook her head again.

“You need to call him and let—”

“No,” the dark haired woman exclaimed. “I want not to talk at him.”

“Espie,” Tristan started, but her dark eyes seemed to burn a hole right through him. He took a couple of steps backward and collapsed into a nearby chair, mouth closed, advice apparently forgotten.

“Then let me call him,” Claire suggested.

“Tomorrow,” Esperanza agreed. “Let me be tonight. I call him tomorrow.”

“All right. You’ll have to let me know where you’re staying.”

Esperanza turned those dark, liquid eyes to Claire. “I want to be staying with you.” She shot Claire a watery smile.

“Espie, I—” She couldn’t finish, couldn’t ignore the well of tears in Esperanza’s dark eyes. “Of course you can. It’ll be just like old times.”

Sort of.

♥♥♥

Luckily, Tristan had prepared enough of his celebration dinner to feed Espie and her growing appetite. Claire was concerned about having Esperanza as her new houseguest, given her current houseguest and the limited space in her tiny duplex. Yet she was glad that Esperanza had decided to leave Devin. Espie deserved better than to be married to a man who only wed her for his inheritance.

The thought shot a pang through her belly. It was true that Tristan only married her so that he could get his inheritance as well, but at least she had known what was going on from the beginning. Poor Espie had been so in love with Devin that it had been written all over her pretty face. Now Espie was going to have his baby, all alone.

After their meal the trio settled down in the living room to watch television. It didn’t take long for the effects of a stressful day and a pregnancy to take their toll on Esperanza. Before the first half-hour sit-com was over, she was nodding off.

“Espie.” Claire stood and gently nudged the poor woman awake. “Are you ready to go to bed?”

She nodded sleepily and stretched out on the couch, taking up the space where Claire had been. Almost immediately, she was asleep again.

Claire glanced to Tristan. “We can’t let her sleep there.”

“No,” Tristan said. “That’s my bed.”

“Be serious.” She lightly punched his arm.

He shot her a small frown and rubbed the spot. “I was serious.”

“She can’t sleep there because she’s pregnant.”

“Oh. Right,” Tristan said. “Where’s she going to sleep?”

Claire sighed. “She’ll have to sleep in my new bed.”

“Okay,” Tristan said after a moment’s thought. “Then where are you going to sleep?”

“I guess I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“All right.” Another pause. “Then where am I going to sleep?”

“I know I’m going to regret this,” Claire said. “But here goes: on the couch with me.”

Tristan raised an oh-really brow.

“It’s a sleeper-sofa. It pulls out into a bed,” she explained. “A lumpy bed, but a bed nonetheless.”

The look on Tristan’s face seemed to say, Why didn’t you tell me this before? But he knew the answer. She had been trying to make him uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that he would leave.

“You make the bed,” Claire instructed as she gently shook Esperanza awake. She helped the sleepy woman to her feet and guided her toward the bedroom. “The linens are in the hall closet,” Claire called over her shoulder. “I get the right side. And I expect you to keep to the left.”

♥♥♥

Tristan lay next to Claire in the darkness of the living room and listened to the even rhythm of her breathing. Beside her in a bed, however lumpy, was just where he wanted to be, but Claire had made her wishes clear.

He had his suspicions that if he rolled over, snuggled in next to her, and maybe even kissed her that she would change her mind about him keeping to his side of the bed, but that wasn’t playing fair. He didn’t know why that should concern him now after thirty-five years of playing by his own rules, but it did. He wanted Claire to want him, to come to him and not be seduced. He wanted to make love to her, but he didn’t want her to regret that decision come the morning. He didn’t want to see doubts in those beautiful eyes of hers.

Think of something else. Thinking about her eyes and her taste would only make the night last longer and a long night on a lumpy mattress was the last thing he wanted. Lumpy was actually too kind of a word for the couch bed. Medieval torture device was more apt.

Claire sighed in her sleep, seemingly a bit restless herself.

Tristan smiled in the darkness. It appeared that he wasn’t the only one who was having trouble with the terrible bed. How generous it was of Claire to give up her brand new bed so that Espie could get a good night’s sleep. If nothing else, Claire was generous to a fault. It was just one of the many things he loved about her.

The realization washed over him like a gentle summer rain. He loved Claire. He loved his wife. He loved everything about her. He loved the way she carried Bruno around as if he were part of the national treasure. He loved the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was studying. He loved the way she bit her lip when she wasn’t sure what she should say next.

He loved her, and she was divorcing him.

The papers were in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. The jacket hung in Claire’s hall closet. He’d had the papers long enough to sign them a hundred times, but he hadn’t been able to do it. Perhaps he had been in love with Claire longer than he’d realized. Perhaps he hadn’t signed them all this time because he did love her.

Face it, buddy. You didn’t want to sign them then, you don’t want to sign them now.

No, he wanted a second chance with Claire. They had been getting along so well since he’d moved in with her. She had helped him in so many ways. He was a better person now, and he had her to thank.

Tristan didn’t want it to end.

It didn’t have to.

They could build a brand new life together right here in this very house. She could finish her degree and get a job locally, and he could cook her supper every night. Maybe they could even start a family.

The idea settled over him like a warm fuzzy blanket. A family. Yeah, that would be perfect. A family like the one he never had.

With a smile on his face, Tristan drifted off to sleep and dreamed of blond-haired baby girls with marvelous turquoise eyes.

♥♥♥

“Devin,” Gladys’s voice buzzed through the lines of the intercom and into Devin’s office. “You have Charles from Accounting on line one. He says it’s urgent.”

“I bet it is,” Devin muttered to himself. Everything that had happened since Devin had taken over the company had been urgent. “Tell him I’m in a meeting.”

Gladys paused, and Devin could almost hear her take a reprimanding breath. “As you wish,” was all she said, but Devin caught her unmistakable undertone: You can’t run forever.

True, he couldn’t run forever, but he couldn’t face another problem. Not yet, not today.

He’d hardly slept a wink last night. He jumped at every little sound, hoping that it would be Esperanza coming home. If he wasn’t thinking about her, he was thinking about the baby. He’d tried countless times to envision himself holding an infant. First a boy and then a girl, but the images wouldn’t surface. Perhaps it was a sign.

If that were the case, then his whole life had been nothing but one big sign from God.

“Devin,” Gladys broke into his thoughts by way of the inner-office intercom. “Your wife’s on three.”

Devin fumbled the receiver, certain that he’d never heard sweeter words.

“Espie?” He breathed into the mouthpiece.

“Devin—”

It was her!

“Espie, I—” Devin let his words trail off. He had waited for this moment all night, and now that it was here, he had no idea what he needed to say. Never in his life had he ever been put in a position to ask a woman to come back to him. In his playboy days, women were like buses: once one was gone another would be around shortly.

“Devin, jou leesten to me. I not coming home.”

“But—”

“I stay with Claire. She is my friend.”

“But—”

“This is my baby.”

“But—”

“I take care of thees criança myself. I don’t need jou.”

“But—” Devin started, then realized that Esperanza was actually going to give him a turn to speak. All of his earlier fury and worry and upset over Esperanza’s leaving surfaced, accompanied by the frustration of his aunt’s crazy will and the end of the playboy era of his life. “I don’t need you either!” Who was that yelling into the phone? “I have it all under control. I’m friggin’ Superman!” He slammed down the receiver, his breathing ragged.

He didn’t need her. He didn’t need any woman.

Oh sure, he and Espie had a great time, but he was Devin McFarland. He could have any woman he wanted. He didn’t need a wife and he for sure didn’t need a baby. If she wanted to raise the child without him, more power to her.

“Devin,” Gladys interrupted once again. “Dan Masters is on line two. Should I have him call back?”

“No,” Devin said. “I’ll take it.”

He sat back in his uncle’s chair and took a deep breath. Then it hit him. Without Esperanza, he lost it all. All thirty-six point three billion dollars. No more mahogany desk, no more problems at McFarland.

He picked up the receiver, a grim smile on his face.

♥♥♥

Six days later, Devin was no longer smiling. Masters had been in a generous mood and had given Devin a week to get out of the mansion before he put it on the market.

Devin was glad that he didn’t have to worry about McFarland anymore, the Board had grown too rigid, and he didn’t want to be a part of a company that could not change with the times. And he was glad that he didn’t have to stay married any longer. Marriage was for the birds or at the very least someone else. Someone who didn’t have better things to do. And he did.

Lots of them.

He just couldn’t think of any right now.

He wished Esperanza the best in whatever she did, but a piece of him was a little annoyed that she didn’t stick it out with him. Or at least try a little harder. But this way was for the best. He was on his own again, just the way he liked it. He didn’t have to worry about what time he got home. He didn’t have to interpret Espie’s butchered English, he didn’t have to stare at her pretty face across the dinner table. Yessiree, just the way he liked it.

Except for having to move. The thought of selling the house didn’t set well with Devin. It wasn’t that it was a sign of his failure, but a piece of his childhood that he was losing.

He and Tristan had lived in that big brick mausoleum for most of their lives. When their parents had died, the two boys moved in with their father’s brother. Their aunt and uncle had welcomed them with open arms, treating them no differently than they would have their own children, had they had any.

Devin looked out of the downstairs office to the foyer where his bags were already packed. Like he had anywhere he could go. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

His thoughts flashed back to the holidays of his childhood. The twenty foot tree decorated by the household staff. Expensive presents purchased by the household staff, and Christmas cookies prepared by the household staff.

He supposed it wasn’t all that bad. He and Tristan had had a roof over their heads and everything that money could buy. Everything but their parents. Christmas after Christmas that’s all Devin had wished for: his mom and dad back. Especially his father. There had been something special about Edward McFarland, something inanely legendary. To this very day Devin missed him, terribly.

On days like today, he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like had his parents survived the boating accident. As the younger son of Baron McFarland, Edward wouldn’t have inherited the family fortune. He would have been left with a comfortable sum, a house in the suburbs, a dog—a real dog—and family Christmas like they had on TV. Lopsided trees and homemade ornaments, the works.

Suddenly his mind’s eye could see an olive skinned child with his green eyes crawling across the office floor. A son. His son.

Devin shook his head, sharp tears welling in his eyes at the vivid image.

“No son of mine is going to grow up without a father,” he vowed.

His mind made up, Devin grabbed his coat off the banister and headed out the door. He’d get Espie back one way or another. His son deserved it.

 

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status

Four days, Claire thought as she let herself into her house on Monday afternoon. How had one cup of coffee turned into four days?

She slammed the door behind her in hopes of getting a response out of Tristan. He didn’t even flinch from his prone position on the couch. Her couch.

For the last ninety-six hours he had been there, not showing much interest in anything but TV infomercials and tequila. An interest that was minimal at best. Well, at least where the infomercials were concerned. Under normal circumstances, Claire might have been worried about sharing such close quarters with her soon-to-be-ex-husband. Now she was just worried about how she was going to get rid of him.

She tossed her keys into her purse and dropped her book bag by the door as loudly as she could. Bruno, at last, noticed her entrance and raced toward her, all the while barking out his yappy greeting.

Tristan stirred, rolling over and squinting at her.

“Did I wake you?” Claire asked innocently.

He grunted his reply, then pushed himself into a half-sitting position. “What time is it?”

“After two.”

“In the afternoon?”

“Yes.” Claire shrugged out of her coat, then scooped Bruno into her arms.

He licked her face with doggie glee. At least somebody was happy to see her.

“Oh,” Tristan said.

Not “gee, already?” or “where does the day go?”

He rubbed his eyes and scratched his chin. What used to be five o’clock shadow had turned into a full-fledged beard. His clothing, rain-stained and suffering four days’ worth of wear was beyond rumpled. In fact, Tristan himself, once a well-groomed, powerful businessman was now the poster child for drunk and frayed. Perhaps he needed to join Unkempt Ex-Billionaires Anonymous. And if there wasn’t such an organization, perhaps he should start one. The worst part of it all was that he seemed to have sprouted roots on her couch.

It was more than ironic that once she had made up her mind to get Tristan completely out of her life he popped back into it with a vengeance.

“Uh, Tristan…”

He grunted once again.

Claire bit back a sigh. He looked tired, beat down, sitting on her couch his hands dangling between his knees. His eyes held a hollow look, as if he’d seen it all and then given up.

“We need to talk,” she continued as gently as she could. She hated to bring it up, hated to see Tristan this way. She couldn’t enable him to continue down his current path of self-destruction.

With a frown at the empty bottles of a twelve pack of imported beer, Claire perched on the edge of the rattan chair opposite the couch and formulated her words. “It’s really none of my business if you want to drink your breakfast—”

“I’ll drink to that,” Tristan quipped, searching around him, most likely for an unopened bottle.

“—unless you insist on doing it in my home.”

Tristan stopped and stared at her with weary, bloodshot eyes. Once those very same orbs had burned with an intelligent hazel fire. Now…well, now they didn’t. “Are you kicking me out too?”

Too? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“What’s wrong with everybody?” He jumped to his feet with surprising agility considering the amount of empty bottles scattered about. “Oh, sure,” he ranted as he paced in front of the fireplace. “If you have almost forty billion, everybody wants to be your friend. But lose it all and nobody remembers your name.”

“Tristan,” Claire started, not really knowing what to say next.

“Okay,” he snorted. “My wife remembers my name. Excuse me. Ex-wife.

Claire stood as well, staring him straight in the eye. The implications of his words were clear: if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have lost it all. “You’re not being fair.”

“Tell me one thing that’s happened this year that has been fair.” He collapsed back onto the sofa, barely missing Bruno as he flopped down. With a defeated sigh, Tristan ran his fingers through his already rumpled hair. “I should have stayed in Belize.”

Claire took a deep breath and crossed her arms. She had never seen this side of Tristan before, this half-drunk, angry-at-the-world side. She was a little unsure of how to handle him. But somehow she knew that kid gloves weren’t the answer. “Devin kicked you out?” It was almost a question.

“Self-righteous jerk.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tristan glared at her.

“I can’t say that I blame him.” There. She’d said it. “You’ve been here four days. Four days. All you have done is drink and take up space on my sofa.”

His glare turned into a shocked stare.

Now was the time to tell him to leave. Get out.

Adios.

“And if you continue to act this way, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Not exactly get out of my life forever. But it was a start.

Tristan blinked at her once. Then again. He studied her for a long time, seemingly to determine just how serious she really was. After what seemed to be several minutes of scrutiny, he nodded. “All right,” he said. “It’s a deal.”

He stood and gathered up the trash that littered the area around the couch—the area where he’d camped out—and took it into the kitchen. Moments later he reappeared empty handed. “I’m going to take a shower now.”

It was Claire’s turn to stare. She watched his departing back as he headed down the hallway.

Just how had “I need you to leave” turned into a “deal”?

♥♥♥

Tristan hit the button on the remote and sent the television onto the next channel. Seventy some-odd stations and nothing good to watch. He glanced across the room where Claire sat, her legs curled under her, nose buried in a book.

It had been two days since she had put her foot down with him. Funny, but he was glad that she had set him on a straighter, narrower path. But even though it had been over forty-eight hours since he’d last had a drink, his thinking wasn’t any clearer.

And it was all because of Claire.

The fire crackled and popped, the bright flames shooting amber shadows around the room. Golden lights shone in her hair as she tilted her head and turned the page of her textbook.

“Is the TV bothering you?”

A gentle grunt was her only reply.

“Because I can turn it down if it is.”

“Hmmmm…” She didn’t even lift her head.

Evidently her schoolwork was more interesting than he was. “What are you studying?”

“American history.” Once again she answered without looking up from the page.

“I know that.” Tristan switched off the television. “I mean, what are you studying at school? You know, in general.”

She stuck her finger in the pages of her book as a marker and closed it. “Travel Hospitality.”

Her answer took Tristan by surprise.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Why?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Claire shrugged. She laid her book aside and drew her knees up to her chest. Firelight still kissed her features. “Before Nanie died—”

“Who’s Nanie?” For the first time since he had met her, Tristan was painfully aware of how little he knew about his wife.

“My grandmother. She passed away earlier this year.”

“I’m sorry.”

Claire nodded as tears filled her eyes. “She was the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever had.”

Tristan bit back his question concerning what had happened to her mother. One set of tears was enough. But how had he lived with this woman for months and not known any of this about her?

“Anyway,” Claire continued, wiping her cheeks, then smiling sadly. “She was very ill and…well, I always wanted to travel. Since Nanie needed me to take care of her, I took geography courses at the university—”

“To travel through books,” Tristan finished for her.

“Something like that.”

“I never knew you were interested in travel.”

Claire just shook her head. “There’s a lot about me that you never knew.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “What’s next? After geography, I mean.”

Claire dropped her gaze and picked at a spot on the knee of her jeans. Finally, she raised her head. “I’ve applied with a couple of the major cruise lines to be an entertainment director.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Very serious.”

Who was this woman seated across from him?

Definitely not the shy girl he had married. “So you’re going to just pack up and head out to sea?”

“Take a good look around you, Tristan. There’s not a lot to pack up.”

He supposed there wasn’t, but somehow it always seemed that Claire had everything she needed. Or maybe being with her was all that he really needed.

“Why’d you marry me?”

She shrugged, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was practically homeless, not much money to my name…” She shook her head. “When you’re vulnerable, it’s really easy to…”

“To what?”

She lifted her head and finally met his gaze. “To let yourself get taken advantage of.”

“You feel you were taken advantage of?”

“I feel I let myself get taken advantage of.”

“How so?”

“Oh, Tristan. I was young and naive and new in the big city. I’d just taken a job that might get me enough money to pay my half of the rent. Then in walks the most handsome man I’ve ever seen and he proposes. To me. It’s been a roller coaster ride ever since.”

Pain shot through Tristan’s gut. He’d never looked at it from Claire’s point of view. At the time he just needed a wife and any woman would do. “You were the one who kept raising the stakes.”

She smiled in remembrance. “A fluke, believe me. All I wanted was to know that I was going to eat and have a roof over my head.”

He hadn’t known that things were so bad for her then. Had never even dreamed. And now that he knew, he wanted to make everything better. He stood and made his way over to where she sat. He sank down next to her and took her hands into his own. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

But he knew she was lying. He could see it in her eyes, those wonderful, marvelous turquoise eyes that a man could easily drown in.

Tristan leaned in closer to Claire. He wanted to get lost in those eyes, he wanted it more than almost anything, but not more than kissing her.

Her lips parted beneath his. He had forgotten how sweet her kisses had been. Or maybe he had tried not to remember. He wanted his wife, wanted to scoop her up into his arms and take her to her bedroom and find out if making love to her was as special as he thought it would be.

Claire worked her hands between them and pushed.

“Tristan,” she whispered, her voice thready as she tried to regain her breath.

He smiled to himself. He liked having this effect on Claire. He liked the effect she was having on him.

“I think we should go to bed.”

“I think we should too,” he whispered in return, then pressed a small kiss to her lips.

She shook her head. “Alone.”

Sucker-punched was the only word to describe the feeling in his gut as Claire stood. She ran her hands down the thighs of her jeans and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It was as if she wanted to say something more to him but couldn’t find the words.

“Good night,” was all she managed before making her way down the hall and into her bedroom.

Tristan leaned back on the couch, his mind swimming with images of her, his mouth filled with her taste.

It was going to be one long night.

♥♥♥

It had been one long day. Devin sat back in his borrowed chair and rubbed his eyes. Who was he trying to kid? It had been one long year. So far he’d been forced to get married and move back into the family mansion, he’d taken over the family business and kicked his brother out on his tail. Yessiree, it had been quite a year.

Never in a million years had he imagined that Tristan would take his threat seriously. And that’s what Devin’s demand for Tristan to move out had really been—a threat. Devin had played enough poker in his travels to know that sometimes you had to bluff. He just never expected Tristan to call him on it. But he had. Now it had been almost two weeks since Tristan had walked out and quite frankly, Devin was worried.

He knew his brother had enough money and street smarts to survive, he just figured that he would at least call. Or maybe even drop by the house for supper once or twice a week.

And then there was the Board. Devin had been trying every day to change their collective minds concerning the new children’s line and every day he grew more and more frustrated.

Esperanza’s brainchild was a fresh new look, just what McFarland needed. Instead of the traditional pastels and white for baby, Espie’s cutting edge designs were fashioned out of splashy, fun colors with vivid patterns and a little bit of South of the Border flair. He’d even expanded the idea to include matching outfits for mother and infant, add in some maternity wear and perhaps a limited number of outfits for the new dad and McFarland would be on top in no time. But the old goats wouldn’t hear of it.

If that wasn’t enough, each day was a constant challenge of one thing or another. Problems seemed to crop up like the proverbial bad penny. If it wasn’t the coffee maker in the employee’s lounge, it was the fire marshal citing McFarland for lack of a proper fire lane. Every day it was something new. Sometimes he felt as if he were the only one in the company who could make a decision. Lord, he didn’t know how Tristan had handled it all.

“Devin.”

He looked up as his wife came into his office. Her English was improving thanks to her continued lessons. Why couldn’t all of life’s little problems be so easily solved?

Espie hovered in his doorway like a reprimanded schoolgirl.

“Well, come on in,” Devin said, hating the exasperated sound of his own voice. Just when had he turned into his uncle?

As Devin shifted the files on his desk and wondered what to do about the Board, Espie crept into the room. “I don’t have the words to tell you,” she started, perching on the edge of a nearby chair.

Oh, great. Just what he needed: another problem. “Just tell me.”

She dropped her chin a notch, seemed to think about it long and hard, then inhaled a tremendous breath. Slowly, she let it out. “We have a baby.”

“Where? In the lobby?” Outstanding. Just marvelous. What a way to end a perfectly terrible day: some irresponsible parent had left their child in his lobby.

“No,” Espie said quietly. “Here.” She pointed to her belly.

Evidently her English hadn’t improved as much as he thought. It was close to time to eat and Esperanza was hungry. Just how she managed to confuse baby with dinner time he’d never understand, but at least there wasn’t a tow-headed toddler downstairs terrorizing the potted ferns.

“Go to dinner without me,” he said, relieved that he didn’t have yet another problem to deal with. He had enough on his plate already. “I’ve got too much to do around here.”

Espie’s brow furrowed in obvious confusion. “No,” she finally said. “No dinner. Baby. We have a baby here.” Once again she pointed at herself.

It took three full minutes for what she said to sink in. We have a baby.

Not in the lobby, but one on the way. Baby.

“You’re pregnant?” He hadn’t meant for the words to come out sounding so sharp, but no one had ever told him that he was going to be a father before. He supposed that he would be happy about the news—maybe later. Right now, he was simply stunned.

Espie nodded, her chin quivering.

He supposed he should get up, go to her. He should hold her close and rejoice in the moment, but he felt as if someone had poured a bucket of Superglue in his seat. All he could do was sit and stare.

He watched numbly as his wife stood and smoothed down the folds of her ankle length skirt. She looked skinny enough. Maybe it was a misunderstanding, maybe she was mistaken.

“That is all,” she said, before turning on her heel and slowly walking from the room.

He waited for her to poke her head back in and claim that this was a very late April Fool’s joke, but deep down he knew it wouldn’t happen.

A baby. Now that was a problem. A big problem. Bigger than any he had faced in his short time at McFarland.

“No,” he said, looking skyward. “This wasn’t part of the deal. I only got married to get my money.”

♥♥♥

Devin’s quiet words washed over Esperanza as she made her way out of his office. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Devin didn’t want the baby, and he had only married her to receive his inheritance. Deep down she had suspected as much, her mother had even warned her about marrying a man she had known so briefly. But did she listen? Oh, no. She had believed in fate and kismet and all the other fairy tales her avó had told her about soul mates and love at first sight. She had believed it all. And where had it gotten her? Right back where she started, and this time with a broken heart as a souvenir.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks as she made her way out of the office building and to the waiting car. She should have known. She should have realized. Devin McFarland was a playboy through and through—always had been, always would be.

She had heard the rumors that the brothers had been forced by their aunt’s will to marry in order to inherit what was rightfully theirs, she just never imagined that such a crazy story could be true. She had told herself that the fact that both brothers married within the same year—after enjoying successful careers as bachelors—was merely a coincidence. She had only been fooling herself.

But no longer. She saw the look on Devin’s face as she told him the news. He was shocked, stunned, but not happy, not excited.

Devin might not want their child, but she did. And just because she was married to um burro didn’t mean that she had to live with him. Not at all. She would take herself and her baby away. And they would live happily ever after. They didn’t need Devin or any of the McFarland money. Not one cent.

♥♥♥

“I’m home,” Claire announced as she walked through the front door. It had been a week since Tristan had kissed her, since she had let him kiss her.

And what a week it had been.

“How did you do on your tests?” Tristan came out of the kitchen wearing an apron and wielding a wooden spoon.

He had made many improvements since Devin had kicked him out. The best one—as far as Claire was concerned—was discovering a culinary talent. Every afternoon, he watched cooking shows on cable TV, then prepared the elaborate meals for Claire that evening. It was delicious, but fattening. She had to get him out of her house soon or she would be as big as a house. But she couldn’t ask him to leave yet. So far he had held up his end of their deal plus some.

“I’m pretty sure I passed.”

Tristan smiled. “I knew it. That’s why I made a special supper to celebrate.”

“What is it?” she asked, starting for the kitchen.

Tristan headed her off. “Uh-uh-uh. It’s a surprise.”

“Whatever it is,” Claire said, inhaling deeply, “it smells delicious.”

“You just go sit on the couch and relax. Or better yet, why don’t you go lie down and take a nap before we eat. You deserve it.”

“That’s all right. I’m not tired.”

Tristan put a hand on his chin and studied her face. “You look exhausted.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“You need a nap,” Tristan insisted.

“But—” Claire started but wasn’t allowed to finish. Tristan clasped a hand on either of her shoulders, spun her around, and marched her in the direction of her bedroom.

“I think you need a nap,” he said again, this time with even more conviction.

Claire was a little tired, at least worn-out enough that she didn’t feel like arguing. Without another word, she allowed Tristan to nudge her into the bedroom.

“Oh, my,” she gasped as she took in the sight that greeted her. Every piece of mismatched furniture that she’d bought at various garage sales and flea markets was gone, replaced by a matching suit of honey-colored oak. The quilt that had served as a bedspread had been replaced by the real thing in a satiny, muted green. Now the quilt was lying across a brand new rocking chair. The new linens were pale yellow with tiny checks and flowers intertwined with strands of softly printed ivy. The whole effect was soothing and it felt as if she had stepped into the pages of Better Homes and Gardens.

But it wasn’t her room. Or at least not the room she had left that morning.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” she said turning to face him even though she only wanted to drink in the gorgeous room. “Where’d it come from?”

“O’Neal’s” Tristan replied with a smile. “It’s a furniture store about a mile from—”

“I know where it is. I want to know where the money came from.”

He seemed to think about it long and hard. Just as he opened his mouth to answer her, the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably Jodie,” Claire said.

Tristan smiled. “Saved by the bell.”

Claire started toward the door. “This isn’t over.”

“It’s a present, Claire. Just say thank you.”

“Thank you,” she said with a slight nod of her head. “But it goes back tomorrow. Neither one of us have the money for that.”

The expression on Tristan’s face was mysterious at best.

“What did you do? Win the lottery?” she asked.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No,” he finally said.

There was no reasoning with him when he was in this kind of mood, so Claire just shook her head. No matter what he said, she couldn’t accept such a large gift from him. In the past few days they had developed a kind of friendship, and she wouldn’t let her friend go into debt on her account.

“Jodie,” Claire greeted as she opened the door.

But it wasn’t Jodie on her doorstep.

It was Esperanza. Red cheeks, watery eyes.

“Claire,” the woman greeted, then immediately burst into tears. “I leave Devin,” she managed between her sobs. “He is…how do you say?…smells. No, he is a skunk.”

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status

“Claire. Claire. It’s your turn.”

Claire jerked back to the real world and tried to focus on what her friend was saying. It was her turn. Oh, yes, Scrabble. They were playing Scrabble. And it was her turn. Unfortunately, she’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts of Tristan that she hadn’t even looked at her letters, much less formed them into an acceptable word for play.

“You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?”

Claire looked from the wooden game tiles to her new friend and neighbor. Jodie was a tall girl. Six feet of long, lanky volleyball center with a heart of gold. She rented the other half of Claire’s duplex. The two of them met when Claire moved in and had become fast friends almost immediately. Jodie was fun, energetic if not a bit on the nosy side. The young university sophomore studied to be a doctor, but Claire felt she was more suited to be a psychic. At least she seemed to always know what was on Claire’s mind.

“Honestly, Jodie, you sound like a jealous lover.”

She shook her long auburn ponytail from side to side. “Just a concerned friend.”

Claire tossed a couple of tiles onto the game board. “Bull.”

“I am,” Jodie said defensively.

“No, bull. That’s my word. Double point space gives me fourteen points.”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“I’m playing the game.”

“That’s my point exactly. You need to be doing more than sitting home playing Scrabble.”

Claire lifted one brow as if to say, you’re here with me.

“Go out with us tomorrow night. The team is having one last shebang before training starts.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Jodie asked.

“For starters, I’ll be the shortest one there.”

“Come on, Claire, it’ll be fun.”

“I can’t, Jodie, I have a test on Monday and—”

“You’re just making excuses.”

“I can’t go clubbing. I’m married.”

“Now I’m glad you brought that up.”

“Don’t start, Jodie.”

“Claire, you’re my friend, and in the few months that I’ve known you, we’ve grown close, right?”

Claire nodded. Since the first time she had seen Jodie, they had clicked, like long lost sisters finally reunited.

“Then as your friend I’m telling you that it’s time to let him go.”

Claire stood and walked over to the counter under the pretense of pouring herself another glass of tea. She wasn’t particularly thirsty, but it gave her hands something to do. “I want to, but—”

“No, buts. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you. You’ve started a new life without him, but you keep hanging on. If you really want to live your life, then live it.”

“Divorce him, you mean.”

Jodie pressed her lips together in a grim smile. “It’s the only way. You’ve got to cut him out of your new life before he takes control of it, too.”

As much as Claire hated to admit it, Jodie was right. “Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll call an attorney on Monday.”

Jodie clapped her hands. “Fabulous.”

“You don’t have to be so excited about it.”

But Jodie continued to smile. “No, silly. That’s my word. Fabulous.” She placed her tiles on the board. “Let’s see that’s a double score there and an extra fifty points for using all my letters—”

Claire shook her head as Jodie continued to total her points. Maybe with Tristan out of her life she could better concentrate. Who knew? Maybe once the divorce was final she could actually beat Jodie the whiz at Scrabble.

It wasn’t much of a goal, but it was a start.

♥♥♥

Esperanza stared at the test strip, waiting the required minute. She shifted from one foot to the other as the seconds dragged by like a centipede wearing ill-fitting shoes.

Finally, the timer dinged. Hesitantly, she peeked at the pregnancy test. Blue. The strip had turned blue. It didn’t seem possible, but in approximately nine months, she was going to be a mother.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She didn’t have the words to tell Devin. Oh, she knew the English words, but she didn’t know how her husband would take the news. They had never discussed children. In the entire course of their relationship, they had never discussed much of anything.

She could only hope that Devin would be as pleased with the news as she was. And she was pleased. Ever since she was a little girl, she had dreamed of the family she would have one day.

Ever so gently, she splayed her hand across her still flat abdomen. A little boy or little girl lay nestled there, heart beating, all physical traits already determined. She couldn’t help but wonder at the magic of it all. Would this little bundle of joy have dark eyes like her or electric green like its father? Would he or she be tall or short? Skinny or fat?

Espie smiled then let herself out of the private restroom. It didn’t matter. The baby could be purple and she would love it just the same. She only hoped that Devin would be as excited as she was. Half as excited would even work.

But how was she going to tell him? She supposed she could just blurt out the news, but that method didn’t seem special enough.

She sat back at the draft table, glancing down at the designs she had been working on all morning. Never in a million years would she have ever believed that she would be designing quality women’s clothing. After all, she had been a chambermaid since she was fourteen. Still, here she was in her very own office, pretending that she had been formally trained in the field of women’s fashions.

She sighed to herself and doodled on the corner of the design, unable to gain back her enthusiasm for finishing it. Perhaps she was struggling because all she could think about was the life growing inside of her. Maybe if she were designing infant sleepers she would be more into her work.

That was it! She would design a few children’s garments to rid herself of this baby fever. Then she would give the drawings to Devin. It was the perfect way to tell him about the baby.

A baby. It was a wonderful gift from God. A blessing.

Now, if she could only convince Devin it was true.

♥♥♥

Claire took a deep breath, sighed heavily, then signed her name to the papers. Somehow she thought it would be different than this. Somehow she thought that freedom from Tristan would make her feel better. But there was only empty. She had hoped against hope that he would change his mind about the two of them, that he would realize that he wanted her to be a part of his life. But Jodie was right. Claire had started a new life without him and she needed to sever all ties. And that included their marriage.

Claire braved a smile as she handed the batch of papers back to her attorney. He was a short man, stout and round and jolly. He looked like Santa Claus in a power tie.

How ironic, she thought. That a man who was credited for giving so much was giving her freedom—and just in time for the holidays. Thanksgiving was less than two weeks away.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Jodie said from behind her. Claire had brought her next door neighbor along for moral support, but she had a feeling that Jodie had agreed to make sure that Claire didn’t back out.

Claire nodded and looked to her lawyer. “When will he get the papers?”

Mr. Barron shrugged his rounded shoulders. “It’s hard to say, exactly. Depends on the Sheriff’s Office. Should be sometime before the holiday.”

“And then?” she asked, wishing her voice didn’t crack. It was crazy. She was crazy for loving a man who didn’t love her back. She needed to let Tristan go before he destroyed the new life she had created for herself.

“We set a date and go to court. It shouldn’t be overly complicated. Given the situation with the will and the fact that you aren’t asking for any alimony or share of Mr. McFarland’s personal holdings, the proceedings should go very smoothly and very quickly.”

“And then you’ll be free.” Jodie smiled encouragingly.

“Free,” Claire repeated. Free to get on with her life. Free to be Claire Campbell McFarland—or at the very least discover who she was. Free to pursue her newly found dreams, her new mission in life. Free.

“Free,” Claire said again, this time with more feeling. Finally, she was going to be free. It was just what she needed.

♥♥♥

Devin rubbed his fingers across his tired eyes and leaned back in his uncle’s chair. There was no way he could think of it as his chair, even if it did belong to him now, along with all the problems that McFarland Manufacturing encountered on a daily basis. And, man, did he have problems. The latest involved the employee’s restroom and sixteen bolts of sample fabric from Mexico. Someone had stuffed a wad of paper towels into the washroom’s sink and left the water running. Naturally, it overflowed and the water—clean as it was—ran under walls and spilled onto the material in the storage room next door. The bolts were ruined. Devin supposed that he should be thankful. At least now he knew that the material didn’t do well in water. Not only did it shrink, the bright colors of the plaids ran together leaving him with sixteen bolts of drawn-up, mottled brown mess.

Absently, he rubbed his chest and retrieved a small amber-colored pharmacy bottle from the top drawer of his desk. Who knew that his life would come to this? Only a few short months ago he had been lying on the beach and gambling away his family’s money in some of the most famous casinos in the world. Now he was married with a prescription for Zantac.

Chronic heartburn, the doctor had said. It was allegedly caused from too much stress. Stress with his job, stress at home. Devin didn’t know how Tristan did it.

Of course, his brother didn’t have to watch everything he said in front of his newly bilingual wife like Devin did. Oh, no, Tristan had taken the easy way out and flown to Belize. They’d probably never see him again. After all, his watch alone would bring him enough money to live on for years down there. So Tristan had headed south, leaving Devin to take care of all of these problems by himself.

Devin did as best he could. As soon as one crisis was solved, another popped up, and always looming in the distance was the biggest problem of them all. McFarland Manufacturing needed something new, something spectacular, something that they had never had before. He knew this; it was obvious even to his untrained business eye. He even knew that McFarland needed to grow or it would die. Discovering solutions for washroom plumbing problems and the like was just rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

He just didn’t know what direction it needed to grow in. But Tristan did. He’d bet his entire inheritance that his brother knew—

“Dev-in.”

He glanced up, shaken from his thoughts by his wife’s heavily accented voice. He tried to smile, tried to keep pretending that everything was fine, but he couldn’t help but feel that Esperanza only added to the number of stresses that he faced each day. It wasn’t enough that he was saddled with the company with no knowledge of how to take care of it, he had a wife too.

“Yes?”

“May I…may I speak at you for minutes?”

Devin nodded at tried not to cringe at his wife’s English or her subservient attitude. “What’s on your mind?”

She seemed to think about it, tilting her dark head this way and that. “I want to sh-show something.”

“To me?” Devin asked, for the first time noticing that she held a folder in her hands.

She nodded.

“What is it?”

Esperanza dropped one hand to her belly, and Devin bit back the urge to offer her an antacid.

“It is designs.”

“New ones?” Lord, he felt like he was playing twenty questions in reverse.

She hesitated for a moment, the hand clasping the folder tightening until her knuckles were white.

“Show me.” Show me the designs. Show me something good. Please, God, show me something that will turn this ship around. Or, at the very least, keep it from sinking.

Like a child being forced to hand over a favorite toy, Espie handed Devin the folder. His fingers brushed against hers, and she jumped back as if she had been burned. Or perhaps it was the ringing of the phone which startled her.

“McFarland,” he snapped into the receiver. “No, this is Devin. Devin McFarland. No, Tristan’s not here. No, I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Devin listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. “Quite frankly, Mr. Williams, I doubt very seriously that Tristan is ever coming back to McFarland Manufacturing.”

Frustrated, he tossed the file onto his desk. “Well, I understand that you worked exclusively with my brother in the past, but I’m running the company now.”

He talked to the man another fifteen minutes before finally convincing him that he was as capable as his brother of handling his accounts. Now if he could just convince himself.

Once he finally hung up the phone, his wife had vanished. His stomach burned when he realized that he hadn’t even noticed her leave.

Whatever it was that she wanted to show him couldn’t have been that spectacular, or she would have hung around to see him look at it.

He sighed, rubbed his eyes again, and reached for the folder that Esperanza had brought him.

♥♥♥

Tristan gazed out over turquoise water the exact shade of his wife’s eyes. It was times like these when he missed her most of all. The times when he was awake. He sighed and rattled the melting ice in his glass.

“Problem?”

He turned to the man behind the bar in the tiny thatched-roof beach pub. “No, there’s no problem. Why should there be a problem?”

The bartender shrugged. “Just asking.”

“I know a lot of people tell their problems to bartenders, but really, man, nothing’s wrong.”

The man wiped up a wet ring off the scarred wooden bar, then tossed the towel onto his shoulder. “So you say.”

“Can I get another one of these?” Tristan lifted his glass.

The bartender grabbed a fresh glass off the rack and started mixing.

“A little less mai and a lot more tai,” Tristan quipped, draining what was left in his glass. “Yeah, this is just what I needed. A whole lot of sunshine and a little bit of rum.”

“Well, that we have. But I have to tell you, you won’t find the solution to your non-problems in the bottom of a bottle.”

Tristan narrowed his eyes at the man. “What are you? Some kind of shrink?”

“I used to be.” He slid the new drink in front of Tristan.

“What happened?”

“Too much pressure. Helping people with their problems, having them always asking me for advice.”

Tristan laughed and took a sip of his new drink. “Isn’t that what you do now?”

The bartender smiled. “Yeah. But here I don’t get paid for it. Twisted, huh?”

“Nah,” Tristan said. “Twisted is having to get married to get your inheritance then having your wife walk out on you.”

The bartender whistled low and under his breath. “Sounds like something out of a movie.”

Tristan nodded. “Yeah, I guess it does.” A horror flick.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any problems.”

“I don’t.” Tristan took a long drink and tried not to think of Dallas, Claire, and everything else he’d left behind. The problem was, the further he got away, the more all those things came to mind. Why, just yesterday, he imagined that he saw Claire, Bruno tucked under one arm walking down the beach. It turned out to be just a blonde haired woman with a rolled up beach towel, but for a minute there… “I no longer have to worry about getting the Board’s approval. I don’t have to worry about getting up every day of the week and going to work. And I absolutely don’t think about what I would have done with my share of 36.3 billion dollars.”

The bartender stopped polishing the glass in his hands and stared at Tristan.

“Nope,” Tristan continued. “I don’t have to worry about anything now but drinking mai tais. And that’s the way I want it.”

The bartender turned knowing eyes to Tristan. “You keep telling yourself that and you just might start to believe it.”

Sounded like a good plan to him. Now if he could just forget about Claire…

♥♥♥

Devin released a frustrated sigh and leaned back in his uncle’s leather chair. It seemed like that was all he could do of late. That and butt heads with the Board.

He’d pitched them Espie’s idea of an infant’s and children’s line, even showed them all the wonderful sample drawings she had given him, but they’d shot him down cold.

“McFarland is a women’s clothier. We’ve always been a women’s clothier and we’ll always be a women’s clothier,” one senior member had emphatically stated.

“Now that’s thinking outside the box,” Devin mumbled in retrospect. He’d tried every way he could, but he couldn’t convince the stagnant members that this was the way to go. If Tristan had presented the idea, the old geezers would have probably jumped at the chance to set up a new line. But Tristan had flown the coop.

“Mr. McFarland, your brother’s on the phone.”

Devin looked up from the file as Gladys, his brother’s old secretary, summoned him from the door to his office. Along with the mantle of McFarland Manufacturing, Devin had inherited his brother’s assistant. And why not? His brother had left everything else to him.

“What did Tristan do? Call collect?” Devin asked.

Gladys shook her iron-gray head and smiled. “No sir. He called from the mansion. Isn’t it wonderful? Tristan’s come home.”

Devin smiled and picked up the phone. He was saved.

♥♥♥

Tristan looked around him in disgust at the people milling around wearing their tuxedos like badges. It was the third biggest party of the year. After the Christmas Cotillion and the New Year’s Bash, Cherry Holiday’s Thanksgiving Celebration was the hit of the holiday season. Why had he come here?

Moreover, the question was, why had he come back? He’d been happy in Belize. Really happy. He stared down into the depths of his cocktail glass. The mai tais had been a  sight better too. Robert—the bartender he’d befriended—had made them just like he liked them, strong. He made a face at his drink that was little more than a splash of rum in powdery-tasting lime juice and made his way over to the bar.

He handed the glass back to the barkeep. “Shot of tequila,” he ordered. “Double.”

As the man did as he asked, Tristan turned to survey the ballroom full of elegantly dressed people. Everyone strutted about, danced and chatted, like every move they made was of the greatest importance, and yet what did it all mean? What was it all for? Surely there was something more out there.

But whatever it was, he hadn’t found it in Belize.

“You look like crap.”

Tristan turned at the sound of the familiar voice.

“Hello, to you too, Ian. Yes, it is a fine evening, thank you.”

Ian shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, my friend. It’s good to see you again. It just looks like you slept in your tux.”

Tristan smoothed at the wrinkles in the fine cloth of his jacket. He supposed it was a little unkempt, but he hadn’t had much use for it down south. “Only on Tuesdays,” he quipped.

“Is that the day you shave as well?”

“Not exactly,” Tristan said slowly as he ran a hand across his extreme five o’clock shadow. Okay, so it had been a day or four since he’d last used a razor. What was the big deal, anyhow? He’d bathed before coming to this party. Wasn’t that good enough?

Tristan tossed back his drink and swallowed with barely a grimace. “I’ve been busy.”

“How was Belize?” Ian asked in a tone that sounded more like his friend.

“Sunny and seventy degrees.” Yet another reason he should have stayed. Why had he come back anyway?

“We found Claire.”

Tristan tried to pretend that his heart didn’t skip a beat. “Great,” he said without any conviction. “She’s still here in Dallas.”

Tristan nodded.

“Going to school at one of those trade colleges.”

“That’s real nice, Ian.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded like hardened steel.

“And here are the divorce papers.” He held a thick fold of papers toward Tristan.

So that was what this was all about.

He stared at the papers not wanting to touch them. But Ian wasn’t relenting. Reluctantly Tristan accepted them, tucking the fold into an interior pocket of his tux jacket.

“You can sign them whenever.”

Tristan clenched and unclenched his jaw. Yeah, he should have stayed in Belize. He turned back to the bar. “Hey, pal, what’s a guy gotta do around here to get another drink?”

“Tristan, I don’t think you should have another.”

Tristan sneered at his friend. “Today, the part of Tristan’s mother will be played by Ian Anderson.”

“Tristan, brother. Cherry Holiday told me you were here.”

Tristan turned as Devin greeted him, pressed and shaved like all of the other guests at the holiday shindig. Funny, but his brother seemed almost happy to see him. “Leave it to Cherry to be the spreader of good news.”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“As long as I can drink while you do it.” He shot Ian a killer look.

Ian glared back. “Come by when you’re sober enough to sign them,” he said, then walked away blending instantly into the crowd of neatly pressed tuxedos.

“Sure,” Devin agreed. “You see, I have this really great idea for McFarland. Well, Esperanza did, and I need your help. The Board won’t give me the go ahead and—”

“No.”

Devin faltered. “No?”

“No.”

“But you haven’t heard the idea yet.”

“I don’t work for McFarland any longer.”

As Tristan watched, Devin turned red. His face tightened, and his fists clenched. He looked shocked, almost angry, which was really strange. Devin never got angry. Even when he was forced into the holy bonds of matrimony, he just laughed it off. “I beg your pardon?” he gritted through his teeth.

“I don’t work for McFarland any longer,” Tristan repeated.

“I see.”

“Good.” Tristan nodded agreeably.

“I expect you to get your things out of the mansion immediately.”

It was Tristan’s turn to look shocked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, yes, my hearing is fine, I just didn’t understand you.”

“Well, brother dear, I’m kicking you out. You’re on your own.”

“No problem,” Tristan said. “I’ll have my things out tomorrow.”

“Tonight,” Devin countered. “I want you out of my house tonight.”

♥♥♥

Claire eased her tired body into her old claw-footed tub and sank into the warm, bubbly water. The bath was more for her soul than anything. After a hard week of studying, she needed to nurture her spirit. Mid-terms were over and in just a few short weeks, her first semester as a full time college student would be complete.

She leaned her head back against the tub’s rim, sighing contently as she listened to the rain beat against her roof. The weatherman had called for a chance of early snow, but it seemed Mother Nature didn’t have Dallas scheduled for a white Thanksgiving.

Snow or no snow, tomorrow everyone would be carving their turkeys. Christmas loomed in the not so distant future, then once again the ball would drop in Times Square. Claire could hardly believe another year had passed. But this time, she wouldn’t be depressed. This year she had finally gotten her life together, and she was proud of herself.

After next semester she would graduate with a degree in hospitality management. She had already applied to several cruise lines. Jodie was right. It was time for her to move on, and she had decided to travel. She had always wanted to see the world. She had no one to answer to, now was her chance.

In the last couple of months, she had learned to look at things in a different light. She had lost her grandmother, the woman who raised her. She had lost Tristan, the only man she would ever love. But she couldn’t look at these events as tragedies any longer. Now they were opportunities. New doors were opening to her, and she was going to take full advantage of her newly found freedom.

A sharp knock sounded on her front door.

Claire jerked up straight in the tub, sloshing water over the sides.

“Claire! Open up. I know you’re in there.”

It couldn’t be!

“Claire.” The words were slurred, but the voice was unmistakable. “Claire!”

She sank back down in the tub and squinched her eyes shut. Maybe if she stayed really quiet he would think no one was home.

“Claire.” Tristan continued to pound on her front door, his voice growing even louder.

“Blast it,” she muttered, stepping out of the tub. She quickly toweled herself halfway dry and slipped her arms into her red silk robe. Her bare feet padded across the hard wood floors as she hurried to the door. With any luck, she would get there before Tristan woke the entire neighborhood.

“Claire!”

“All right. All right,” she said, opening the door with the chain still in place.

She could only see a small part of him through the four inch crack, and that small part looked worn and tired. His hair was plastered to his head and dripping rainwater into his eyes. He was in bad need of a shave, and his tuxedo was soaked through to his skin.

“Claire.” Her name resounded like a prayer.

“What are you doing here, Tristan?” She steeled herself against his answer. She had just gotten her life in order and she didn’t need him coming around with pitiful pleas to help him gain back his inheritance to louse everything up for her.

He smiled, his lips crooking up in a lopsided grin. “Bruno missed you.”

For the first time since opening the door, Claire noticed the tiny black poodle Tristan held in his arms. The poor pooch was wet and shivering, from fear or cold she didn’t know which, but her heart melted a little at seeing her one-time, faithful canine companion.

“Can we come in?”

Claire pulled her robe a little tighter around her. “Bruno can.”

“What about me?”

She closed her eyes, counted to ten, then slowly opened them again. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No,” he said quickly, a little too quickly. “Well, maybe just a little.”

But Claire noticed that his alcohol intake was not enough to insulate him from the cold. Like Bruno, Tristan was shivering from the chilly winter rain.

Against her better judgment, she closed the door, then slid the chain open. “You can come in. But only long enough to get warm,” she quickly added.

Tristan smiled that heart-stopping smile of his and stepped into her duplex.

“The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right. The towels are in the cabinet under the sink.”

Tristan nodded and started off in the direction she had indicated.

While he was gone, Claire piled logs into the fireplace and lit them. Soon a cheery fire snapped and crackled and cast dancing golden shadows around the room.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

Claire turned as Tristan re-entered the room wearing her oversized pink fuzzy robe. Gone were the wet garments that he had been wearing. “I hung my things on the curtain rod to dry.”

Claire dumbly nodded as Tristan settled down on her secondhand sofa as if he truly belonged there. Bruno nestled in his lap and heaved a great doggie sigh of his own.

The sight unnerved Claire. “I…I’ll just go make some coffee,” she said and hastened to the kitchen. Just one cup, she told herself, then he was outta there. She would run his clothes through the spin cycle, toss them into a very hot dryer and then he was on his way.

“I got the papers,” he called as the coffee gurgled and chugged.

“Papers?”

“The divorce,” he returned, his voice sounding a little quieter, a little more distant.

So that was what this was all about. She should have known.

Quickly, she poured them both a steaming mug of coffee, grabbed a piece of last night’s leftover pot roast for Bruno, and headed out of the kitchen.

One cup of coffee, she chanted to herself and no matter what else he said, he was gone.

She rounded the corner into the living room and stopped short. Tristan was sprawled across her couch, his head tilted at an uncomfortable-looking angle. His eyes were shut, mouth open.

“Great,” she muttered to herself as Bruno watched her with those big brown puppy dog eyes. “Just great.”

She set down the tray and approached Tristan, fully intending to wake him and send him packing, wet clothes and all, but her resolve slipped as she neared his side. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and she could afford to be a little more charitable.

With a shake of her head at her own weak foolishness, she covered Tristan with an afghan, scooped up Bruno, and went to bed herself. She would deal with Tristan and whatever he wanted in the morning.

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status

“So you’re telling me there’s no way out of this?” Tristan looked to his friend, the irony of the situation not lost on either of them.

It had been two months since Claire had left, taking with her Tristan’s fortune—figuratively speaking.

“Basically, yes. There’s no way out. The board will convene today to vote, then the company will belong to Devin.”

“But I don’t understand. I mean, technically we’re still married.”

Ian shook his head. “You’re lucky you got away with this marriage farce for as long as you did. Cut your losses and be grateful.”

“Grateful? Did you say grateful?”

“Tristan—”

“What’s there to be grateful for? I was forced into a sham of a marriage, my make-believe wife walked out on me, and now I’m losing 36.5 billion dollars.”

“Point three,” Ian corrected.

Tristan shot him a scathing look.

“I know you have assets stashed away. Cash them. Take a trip down to Mexico. Let Devin worry about the company for a while.”

“Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I thought I did.”

“I’ve spent the past fifteen years of my life worrying about McFarland Manufacturing, and now you’re telling me to just forget it all and go drink mai tais on the beach?”

Ian pretended to think about it for a second. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

Ian shook his head.

“What about the private investigator? Hasn’t he turned up something? Anything?”

“Nada.”

“I don’t understand it. How could she just up and disappear?”

“Did it ever occur to you that she might not want to be found?”

Tristan rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Regardless, the woman left me driving a hot pink Mercedes—which belonged to me I might add.”

“According to your pre-nup, the car rightfully belongs to her.”

Tristan ran agitated fingers through his hair. “How hard could it be to track down a fuchsia luxury import?”

“It’s over, Tristan. Let it go.”

“This town isn’t that big. How could he not find her?”

“This chapter of your life is closed,” Ian countered. “The best thing for you to do is get on with something else. Drinking mai tais seems like a pretty good idea to me.”

“And then what? Just wait for Claire to file for a divorce?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t think you have much choice in the matter.”

Tristan sadly nodded in agreement. “That, my friend, has been the problem all along.”

♥♥♥

Claire tied the paint-splattered laces of her walking shoes and headed out the door of her newly rented duplex.

It had been two months since she had left Tristan. Two months, one week, and four days. Not that she was counting. It was just that she had had two months, one week, and four days to discover that she still didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life.

She felt a little better, having struck out on her own. The first two weeks she had stayed with Cherry Holiday. Cherry had been sworn to such secrecy of Claire’s whereabouts that even her husband Jerry didn’t know that Claire was staying at their house. It helped that Congress was in session and Jerry was at the state capitol, but Claire felt bad at having her one and only friend deceive her husband. So, as much as it broke her heart, Claire sold the pink Mercedes that Tristan had given her and used the money to get on her feet.

She inhaled deeply, sucking in the muggy July air. Despite the record-breaking temperatures during the day, Claire found it relaxing to take an evening walk. Every day she headed off in a different direction, every day hoping that something would strike her. Something would speak to her and let her know where she should go from here.

She started off down the street, careful to walk facing the traffic. Not that there were many cars driving around in her neighborhood. So many of the residents in this part of town were college students who either walked or rode their bicycles to class every day.

Claire liked the unpretentious quality of her neighborhood. The houses were old with creaky screen doors and mellowed hardwood floors. The people were friendly and hard working. And if anyone recognized her, they never mentioned it. All in all, her life had settled into a definite pattern of tranquility, except for—of course—what exactly to do with it.

She had gotten a fair price for her car and didn’t have to go to work right away, but she had a yearning deep inside, a part of her that knew that she had more to offer. The frustrating part was that she didn’t know what it was. She tried to be patient where this longing was concerned, but it was hard. It became more difficult every day to distinguish between the yearning to make something of herself and the yearning she had for Tristan.

All right, she admitted to herself, her heart was broken in two solid pieces. She wasn’t sure if it would ever be the same again, but she had to face facts. Tristan never loved her, he never would. Facts were facts, no matter how badly they hurt.

Claire blew out a breath and turned the corner, striding down yet another new street on her never ending search.

If only, she thought to herself, knowing that if onlys were useless. If only she hadn’t married Tristan to start with, if only she had been smarter, not let her heart get involved. If only…

Nanie always said that everything happened for a reason, maybe that was why Claire had to marry Tristan, to show someone else a better way. Maybe someone else was learning from her mistakes right now.

If only he had shipped her out to Paris like he had planned to do. She could still be on the Riviera right now drinking pink daiquiris and soaking up the sun.

Claire lifted her face to the overcast sky. An early-season tropical depression had chased away the sun. That’s what she needed. Sunshine. Maybe she should go down to the coast. Or Florida.

She should. There was nothing keeping her here. No reason why she shouldn’t pack up all her things and head out toward tropical weather.

♥♥♥

Devin leaned back in the big leather chair that had belonged to his uncle Dick and bit the end off his cigar. He didn’t light the foul thing, only chewed on it a bit the way his uncle had. Somehow the rolled tobacco leaves gave Devin a sense of power and prestige, a sense of having “made it.”

Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined that he would be running McFarland Manufacturing. Truthfully, when he was growing up, they barely let him in the doors. Now it was his—all his.

Sure, he had to get married to a woman he didn’t know and had to strong arm his brother for control, but the end justifies the means and all’s fair and a dozen other sayings that ruthless businessmen had invented to help them sleep at night.

A flash at the door caught Devin’s attention, and he looked up as his brother passed by in the hallway.

“Tristan,” he called.

Tristan stopped, seemed to hesitate, then entered carrying a cardboard box filled with miscellaneous office supplies. “Yeah?”

“You leaving?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Devin felt a stab of sympathy for his brother. Never in all their years together had he felt sorry for Tristan. Tristan had always gotten everything, or at least that’s how it seemed to Devin. It was Tristan who won all the baseball and track trophies, Tristan who took first place at the science fair, and Tristan who Aunt Patricia always favored.

In his entire life, the words that Devin recalled being said the most were, “Why can’t you be more like your brother Tristan?”

“You don’t have to, you know.”

Tristan just stared at him.

“Leave, I mean. You don’t. Have to leave. You can stay and—”

“No. Ian seems to think I need to be drinking mai tais.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

Tristan shrugged. “I had one last night. It wasn’t bad.”

“If you change your mind—”

Tristan shook his head. “I won’t.” He started toward the door but paused before exiting. Slowly, he turned back to face Devin. “She’s all yours now. Enjoy.”

Devin sat for a long time and stared at the spot where his brother had been, for some reason feeling lonelier than he ever had in his life.

♥♥♥

“This is your office.”

Esperanza winced at her husband’s over-loud tone. For some reason he insisted on yelling every single syllable at her as if volume alone would better help her understand. As it was, she could comprehend most of what he was saying, thanks to Javier and Claire.

Espie bit back a sigh. She missed Claire. She hoped that her newfound friend was doing fine and wished that she would call, even though she knew it wasn’t going to happen. If Claire called, then Tristan would find out where she was and force her to come back to the McFarland mansion. Claire wasn’t going to call.

“This is where you’ll do all of your work,” Devin continued. “You know, designing.” He made a motion like he was writing on an invisible sheet of paper.

Esperanza just nodded. She couldn’t believe that they wanted her—her—to design clothing for a world famous label such as McFarland. The very thought made her nervous. What if she couldn’t do it? What if she actually drew some designs of her own instead of sprucing up the work of others and they hated them?

What if…?

“Esperanza.”

She jerked out of her almost trance-like state and stared wide-eyed at her husband.

“Will you be comfortable here?”

“Com-fort-ta-ble?” She supposed so. “Y-yes,” she stammered.

Devin nodded. “Good,” he said. Then added under his breath in a voice that was almost unintelligible, “because I really don’t need any more problems.”

Esperanza watched her husband leave what was now her office. She felt sorry for him. He was under a lot of pressure, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. Not that she didn’t have the English words to do so, but Tristan hadn’t left the country as everyone had speculated. She knew because she saw the lonely yellow glow of a lamp seeping from under his bedroom door each night.

Tristan hadn’t gone to Cancun like he claimed was his plan. He had gone into mourning for his lost love. Espie knew that Tristan would never admit to his love for Claire. He had too much pride, but she could see it as plain as the nose on his face. She had a talent for such things. She only wished that one day soon, she could make her husband look at her the same way. Then she would be comfortable. No, that wasn’t the word. Happy. Yes, that was it. Then and only then would she be happy.

 

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status

Tristan sat back in his chair and gave up trying to concentrate on the contracts in front of him. His mind was going in confusing circles.

He’d never considered himself lacking when it came to women and their feelings, but Claire… She was so different than all the other women he knew. One thing was certain: he’d surely enjoyed holding her in his arms. But strangely enough, he found himself never wanting to let her go. And yet he had. He just didn’t know what to make of it all.

The other women he had known in his life, he knew how to handle. He knew the score, he knew the game. Women like Anna he had grown up with, but Claire….

Claire was in a different league altogether, and he wasn’t sure of the rules.

He jerked upright as a soft knock sounded on his door.

“Mr. McFarland?” Gladys popped her head inside and smiled apologetically. “You have a visitor.”

Tristan nodded. “Send them in.”

Gladys had canceled all of his appointments for the day, so he knew he had no one on the books. Still, he’d take anything to distract him from his thoughts of Claire—even an unwanted drop-in. Spending the afternoon trying to figure out their relationship was giving him a pounding headache.

“Yes, sir. Then I’m going to run these files down the hall to your brother’s office.”

Tristan nodded. “Very well.”

Gladys disappeared only to be replaced by a face from his past.

“Tristan, darling.” Anna Riveria swept through his office door, leaving the dark mahogany open behind her.

“Anna.” Tristan stood, walked around his desk, and allowed his ex-girlfriend to kiss him on the cheek in greeting. “Long time, no see. How was Africa?”

Her face curled up into a petulant pout. Funny, at one time he’d actually thought that look to be sexy, now she just looked like a spoiled brat. “Dreadful. Just dreadful.” She slumped down into a nearby chair and crossed one slim leg over the other.

“I see,” he said, though he didn’t at all.

“The heat and the humidity down there. It was unbearable. And the mosquitoes.” She did that pouty thing with her lips again. “Daddy owes me big time for this one. But you know Daddy…”

“Uh-huh.” Tristan reclined back in his office chair and tried to concentrate on what Anna was saying. Only he had no interest in her trip to Africa and what it meant to her father’s campaign. He wanted to…he wanted to go home and see his wife. Spend time with her in the middle of the afternoon. For the rest of the afternoon.

He didn’t want to be here with predictable Anna. He wanted to be home with his unpredictable bride.

Even more strange. Maybe it was a virus.

“Tristan?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Sure, I am.” Surely it was just a virus, and this obsession he was experiencing with his wife would soon pass, just like the common cold.

“You’re not.” Anna swayed across the room toward him.

Tristan focused his gaze and all he could muster of his attention onto his ex-lover. “Of course, I am,” he repeated.

“Then you know how much I’ve missed you.” Anna plopped down onto his lap.

“Anna, I—”

“Oh, Tristan. It’s been so long,” she purred, her lips drawing closer and closer to his.

“A lot has changed.” He grasped her upper arms in his hands to push her aside. Definitely a virus.

Anna shrugged. “So you got married. Everyone in Dallas and Fort Worth knows that you only did it to get your inheritance. I don’t blame you. But it doesn’t mean that we can’t be together now, does it?”

Two months ago, he would have agreed, but it seemed that even he was one of the things that had changed.

Before he could answer and tell Anna that yes, being married did mean that they couldn’t be together, and before he could lift her from his lap, Anna covered his mouth with her own.

♥♥♥

The drive from the mansion to downtown seemed to take forever. It took years to walk across the parking lot and at least a millennium before the elevator arrived at Tristan’s office. But finally the bell dinged, the doors opened, and Claire stepped out into the carpeted hallway.

It was impetuous, impulsive, to just show up at his office without calling first, but she wanted to surprise him. Last night after their close call, she had realized something about herself that shocked her to the core. She was in love with her husband. And for some strange reason she felt compelled to tell him so.

She didn’t know exactly what she was going to say, only that she needed to say it. She needed to come clean, lay her cards on the table and all those other clichés that had to do with honesty.

The door to Tristan’s outer office was open. She made her way toward it, her steps alternating between a light jog and the crawl of a snail. She wanted to be there, wanted to talk to him, yet at the same time, she had never been so scared in her life, had never dreaded a chore so much. What if he laughed at her? What if he told her they could never be?

What if he said that he loved her in return?

Quietly Claire eased into Tristan’s office, but his secretary was nowhere to be seen. She would have liked the chance to talk to Gladys again, maybe even use the secretary to stall for time, but not today. Claire knew that Tristan was in his office, or at least somewhere close; his car was still in the parking lot.

Like the door to the outer office, the door to the inner office was open, though not a sound emerged from within.

On trembling legs, she approached and without knocking, peeked inside.

The sight that greeted her was not what she had expected. Anna Riveria in all of her blond glory was sitting on Tristan’s lap, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

Her heart broke in two even as her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the sob that threatened to alert them to the fact that they were not alone.

She might not have much, but she would hold onto her dignity.

Choking back a gasp, she turned on silent feet and fled back down the carpeted hallway to the elevators.

♥♥♥

Tristan was totally unprepared for Anna’s kiss. It took a second for the action to register and another for him to bring his hands to Anna’s waist and lift her away from him.

She smiled sexily, her lipstick smeared, and brushed the hair back from Tristan’s forehead.

He caught her hand in his own. “Anna,” he said, his voice sounding more impatient than he had intended. “I’m a married man.”

“But darling—”

Tristan shook his head. “There are no buts. I’m married, and we can no longer be a ‘we’. I’d thought I’d made that perfectly clear.”

Anna stared at him for a solid minute, her face registering first shock, then anger. “I see,” she said, her voice blowing in from the North Pole. Her back stiffened as she smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her linen suit. “Well, let me make something perfectly clear to you.” Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in close to him, a tactic he was sure that she employed so that he could smell the expensive perfume she favored. Funny, but there was a time when he had found the scent alluring. Now it was simply coy. “When your…infatuation with married life runs out, don’t expect to come crying to me.”

She waited for his response, shoulders taut, lips pressed firmly together. Receiving none, she turned on her heel and with a flash of her long blond hair, marched to the door.

She was almost to the hallway when he finally answered. “Good-bye, Anna.”

♥♥♥

Claire couldn’t remember the drive back to the mansion. The scenery flashed by in the blur of her tears. How stupid had she been. How incredibly stupid. And naive and innocent and unsophisticated. How could she have ever imagined that Tristan McFarland could care for her? And how could she have been so crazy as to lay her heart on the line where he could walk all over it without a second thought?

She slammed the car into park and left it in the middle of the circular drive.

It was over, she acknowledged as she numbly made her way inside the house. It was all over. There was no way she could stay here in Tristan’s house, face him day after day, knowing what she did. Knowing that he was sleeping with Anna behind her back, knowing that he didn’t care for her and never would. She simply couldn’t stay. That left her only one recourse.

She tripped twice on her way up the staircase. On wobbly legs, she stumbled into the bedroom. Tears streamed down her face.

“Crying will get you nowhere,” she heard Nanie’s voice clear as a bell in her mind. Her grandmother was right of course. But Claire wasn’t sure what she could do. She felt alone and sad, more alone and sad than she ever had in her entire life—even more than when her parents died. Even more than when Nanie passed on. For this time, Claire was truly alone after she had experienced the joy of family—however dysfunctional it may have been.

As if her actions were controlled by an outside force, Claire walked to the closet she shared with Tristan and pulled out her tapestry tote bag. With calm precision, she placed the bag on the bed and began filling it with her things.

She could no longer stay at the McFarland mansion; she could no longer stay with Tristan. She wasn’t sure where she would go or what she would do, but she had the rest of her life to figure that out. Right now, the only thing that was certain was that she had to leave.

It took only minutes to fill the bag with her new clothes. How sad that her life could be stuffed into one single, worn bag. She lifted the case from the bed, gave the room one last look, then climbed back down the stairs.

She should leave a note, she supposed as she made her way across the foyer, but she wasn’t ready for that. She would give Tristan a couple of days to realize that she was gone, then she would call and break the news to him over the phone. It was the coward’s way, she knew, but it was the best she could do right then.

“Claire.”

Startled, she jerked her gaze up to meet the confused hazel eyes of her husband.

“T-Tristan,” she stammered, her heart breaking all over again at the mere sight of him.

“Are you going somewhere?”

So much for breaking the news over the telephone.

Fighting back the fresh tears that threatened, Claire stiffened her backbone. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I’m going somewhere.”

“Where?”

Claire had to hand it to him, it was a legitimate question. “I…I don’t know.”

“I see.”

“No, Tristan, I don’t think you do.”

A heavy moment hung suspended between them as Tristan waited for what Claire would say next, and Claire waited to hear herself say it.

“I’m leaving you.”

“Leaving me?” He blinked once, but otherwise his expression remained unchanged. He merely stared at her as if he knew deep down that she didn’t have the guts to carry through with her threat.

Well, that might have been the old Claire but the new Claire, the one who wore makeup and had a sassy new hairdo was different. She stood up for herself and would never remain in a loveless relationship that was headed south.

“I saw you today with Anna. It’s over. I’m leaving.” She started toward the door.

Unfortunately, Tristan blocked her path.

“Claire, really. Think about what you’re saying. If you leave, I don’t get my share of the inheritance, which means you don’t get paid either.”

Not ‘Claire, please don’t leave me.’ Not ‘It’s not what you think.’ Not ‘Anna means nothing to me.’ Only money. With Tristan it had always been about money.

“Move out of my way, Tristan.” Some strong force deep inside of her helped her lift her chin and meet his gaze. Turquoise clashed with hazel as they shared a moment of simply staring the other down.

Finally, it was Tristan who turned his gaze away. “Claire, you can’t do this.”

“Oh, but I can.”

“Guess what?”

Both Claire and Tristan turned as Devin strode into the foyer, Esperanza hot on his heels. “I’ve discovered who doctored the designs. It wasn’t Claire after all, but Esperanza the whole time. Our new designer has been right under our noses all along. Isn’t that marvelous?”

“Marvelous,” Tristan dryly agreed.

But Claire only felt her heart sink a little lower. She didn’t know where she was going, she was tossing away a fortune, and she had no skills to get her through. She was happy for Esperanza and the discovery of her new talent, but it only made Claire feel that much more worthless.

“And I’ve got marvelous news for you, Devin” she said. “You’ve won.”

“Come again?”

“Don’t listen to her, Dev.”

“I’m leaving,” Claire baldly stated. With more aplomb than she truly felt, she pulled Tristan’s ring from her finger and extended it toward him.

“No, she’s not,” Tristan countered, refusing to take the plain gold band from her.

“Leaving?” Devin asked.

“Leaving,” Claire repeated. She handed the ring to Devin, then turned back to face her husband. “And neither of you can stop me.”

Chin held high, Claire pushed her way past Tristan and walked out the front door.

 

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status

What was she doing?

Claire hastily pulled away from Tristan and tugged on the hem of her pale blue Michael Kors sweater. “Thank you.”

“But you like it?” Tristan pressed.

Claire nodded, struggling to gain back both her composure and her facade. “It’s fantastic.”

She shouldn’t have thrown her arms around Tristan just because he’d bought her a present. But no one—no one—had ever bought her a present such as this. A new car. A special car. A pink car.

“Here are the keys.” Tristan held them out in the palm of his hand.

Claire tucked them into the pocket of her silver gray skirt. She tossed back her hair, but couldn’t meet his gaze.

“You really like it?” he asked. “Because if you don’t I can—”

His words were interrupted as Javier pulled up in his imported convertible and honked the horn of the tiny car.

“Bela,” he called, jumping out without opening the door.

Claire and Tristan turned in his direction, and Claire could only wonder at what Tristan was thinking. Javier, if anything, did not look like a pool boy.

Crisp white tennis sweater slung across broad shoulders, pale yellow tennis shorts and a tan to rival Devin’s, Javier looked very much like a boy toy— Janis Freeman’s boy toy. But despite his gigolo appearance, he had helped Esperanza and Claire learn to communicate. They were by no means Chatty Cathy dolls, but at least now they could talk—a little.

Claire felt Tristan tense as Javier leaned down and kissed her on each cheek in turn. “You are happy for the lesson today, yes?”

“Sure,” she replied with a smile, though all of a sudden she didn’t feel very happy. In fact, she felt a little sad, as if she had lost something that she didn’t realize she’d had.

“Lesson?” Tristan asked.

Claire faced her husband feeling guiltier by the second. It wasn’t her fault that Tristan didn’t know about Javier. After all, it had been Tristan who had been ignoring her for the last few weeks, but Claire couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit deceitful.

“Yes, well, you see, Javier has been coming over and teaching us—me and Espie—Portuguese.”

“I see.”

But Claire didn’t understand how he could see anything with his eyes all scooched up like that.

“Well, he’s not teaching Espie Portuguese,” Claire hastily corrected. “Only me. He’s teaching her English.”

A muscle twitched in Tristan’s firm jaw.

“It was Cherry’s idea,” she rambled on, while Tristan looked as if he was about to blow his temper. “He’s Janis Freeman’s pool…man and well, he speaks Portuguese. Janis was nice enough to loan him to us a couple of days a week so that we—Espie and I, that is—could learn to talk to one another.” She took a deep fortifying breath, trying to dispel the dizzy feeling in her head.

“I see,” Tristan repeated, looking Javier up and down with a scrutiny that could only be described as rude.

“You are ready now?” Javier asked, shifting from one docksider covered foot to the other.

Claire looked to Tristan.

He nodded. “Go right ahead. I think I’ll go to the office.”

“I thought you were going to take the day off,” Claire protested.

“Things change.” Tristan shrugged, his eyes never leaving Javier. “Enjoy your…lesson,” he said, then turned toward the garage.

Claire watched him walk away, baffled by what had just taken place. Why, if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought that Tristan was jealous. And over her. But that was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

♥♥♥

Claire felt bad, guilty, horrible, so incredibly low by the time Javier left that she was nearly wringing her hands in shame. She couldn’t say that they had a good session. Though Esperanza’s English was coming along nicely, Claire couldn’t concentrate enough on the foreign language to learn even one new word.

Add to that, the excitement over the new car and her focus was shot.

But more than anything she wanted to take a drive in the zippy little convertible. Take a drive with her husband.

It was after six, but who knew when Tristan would come home? He worked such crazy hours.

But she wanted to see him. Wanted to share this special gift with him, wanted to apologize.

Mind made up, she palmed her keys and slid inside the sweet pink car.

She was certain she garnered more than her fair share of attention as she sped down the highway headed toward the McFarland offices. Could be the shocking color of the Mercedes, but more likely it was the fact that she was all alone in the car and smiling like an idiot. She didn’t care, because she knew. Tristan had to care for her—even if only just a little bit—in order to buy her such a fabulous present.

She zipped into the parking lot, then fairly skipped toward the McFarland lobby. She buzzed through the lobby, breezed past the front counter, and brushed past his secretary’s unoccupied desk to knock on his office door.

“Come in.” His voice was muffled and distant and Claire was glad that she had made the decision to come to him. It sounded like he’d been working extremely hard all afternoon. It was only right that he test out the car with her.

“Hi.” Her confidence suddenly fled as she stepped into the room. What if he didn’t want to go with her? She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She just wouldn’t.

Tristan whirled his chair around to face her. Had he been sitting there staring out the window?

“Claire.” He stood and came around the desk. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” She stopped, then straightened her shoulders. “I came to pick you up from work.”

He angled his head and stared at her for a second. Although she couldn’t read his expression, she had to fight the urge to shift from one foot to the other as she had on the rare occasions when she had been called in front of the principal in school. That’s how she felt: uncomfortable, trepidatious, and terribly unsure of herself.

“You came to pick me up?”

Claire nodded. “And to apologize for this afternoon. I—” But he held up one hand to stop her words.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I do. You did something so special for me and I—” She stopped again.

“Apology accepted.”

Claire smiled to match Tristan’s own. “You are making this very easy on me.”

“I have my reasons.”

Was he flirting with her? “And what might those be?”

His lone dimple deepened. “See, I’ve never driven a pink car before.”

He was flirting with her. Claire dangled the keys. “What makes you think you get to now?” And with a quick jingle, she raced him to the parking lot.

♥♥♥

“Tell me again why you have a boathouse in the heart of Texas?”

The sun was starting to set, splashing pink and gold across the Texas sky. Claire shifted from one foot to the other wondering how long this magical evening could last.

Tristan rattled the lock, wiggled the key again, then pushed open the heavy wooden door. “Well, back in the day, there was a lake on the property. Something happened, I don’t know what, and now the lake is gone.”

“But the boathouse is still here.”

He motioned for her to step inside. Claire inched forward, not sure what to expect from an abandoned boathouse.

Except it didn’t look like she imagined a boathouse would look, nor did it appear abandoned. “It’s beautiful.” She turned in a full circle, taking in the cypress walls hung with wooden oars and old fashioned life preservers. A large aluminum canoe hung overhead and cypress cabinets lined the far wall.

“You like it?”

Claire nodded. There was something quiet and private about the space even though it sat almost smack in the middle of the McFarland grounds.

“Devin and I used it as a clubhouse when we were growing up.”

“I take it that was before Cindy Lou Ferrill?” She pointed to the large “No Girls Allowed” sign hanging on the back of the door.

He shot her an uncomfortable smile and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “You can’t believe everything Devin says.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, but her tone revealed her disbelief. What did it matter to her? She hadn’t known him then, and they surely didn’t have a normal marriage. But she was enjoying watching him squirm. “You know what I think? I think you put that up there and brought girls here anyway. Those pour naïve souls would take one look at that and think that you were so smitten you would break your own rules. Am I right?”

“Maybe.”

“I think I’m dead on.” She started toward the line of cabinets. “I bet if I started digging around I’d find some blankets, maybe some candles, empty wine bottles…”

She opened the first set to reveal exactly that: a romance kit for the ages. She turned to face him.

When had he gotten so close to her?

“W-well?” she stuttered.

“Well, what?” He took another step, bringing him within touching distance.

All she had to do was reach out and she could trace the pattern in his tie…the line of buttons down the front of his shirt…the curve of his lips.

She cleared her throat, intending to ask what he had to say for himself. “Do you always stay so buttoned up?” Who said that?

“Not always.”

Now why did that sound suggestive? And when did it get so hot in here?

Her hands lifted and tugged on the knot of silk at his throat.

“Is this your way of saying that I should loosen up?”

“Maybe.” She lifted her gaze to his. Where had this flirty Claire come from? She hadn’t even known this part of herself existed and here she stood, flirting with her husband, removing his tie and all but inviting him to kiss her.

“Kiss me,” she commanded.

Tristan closed his eyes for a brief moment then opened them again with a groan. “Claire…” her name was both prayer and curse.

“You don’t want to kiss me?”

He shook his head. “That’s not it.”

She knew that. She may have only been around the block once or twice, but he wanted to kiss her. Of that much she was certain. And she wanted to kiss him. They had shared such a wonderful time together. It seemed only natural.

“Tristan?”

“Ask me again.”

“Kiss me,” she said, her confidence slipping a notch.

Then his lips were on hers and all doubts fled.

His kiss was confident, and searching, his tongue invading asking hers to dance. She returned the caress, her confidence growing.

He leaned in, bracing his arms on the other side of her, effectively pinning her between the counter behind her and him in the front. Like she was going anywhere.

She had been waiting for his kiss since the first one in the courthouse.

Then it had been all about chemistry, white hot desire that sparked like tinder in a lightning storm. But this was different. There was more between them now, weeks of living in the same house, sharing a bed, however platonically. This was about…more.

Until it wasn’t. Because it never would be. The kiss was the stuff of her dreams—literally. He was amazing and handsome and not really hers.

She worked her hands between them and gently pushed back. He lifted his head, confusion, concern in his hazel eyes.

She shook her head. She had been playing with fire and if she wasn’t careful she was sure to get burned.

He paused a moment and then nodded. He knew. This was a marriage about money. Not about kissing and loving or even fabulous gifts. And they needed to remember that. She needed to remember it.

Because when the time came for them to part ways, she would be the one left hurting and they both knew it.

 

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status

You wanted to see me?”

Tristan nodded as Devin stepped into his office. He threw back a handful of chalky antacid tablets and chewed with a grimace. It seemed that ever since the night of Cherry Holiday’s party, heartburn had been his constant companion. And it had nothing to do with the fact that Claire had kicked him out of his own bedroom. Nothing at all. “Sit down, Dev.”

As his brother sat back in the leather chair in front of Tristan’s desk, Tristan pushed a file folder full of designs in his direction. “Did you do this?”

Devin picked up the file and quickly thumbed through it. “Do what?”

“The changes.”

Devin just stared at him blankly.

“I took that file home a few days ago. I didn’t have time to go through it thoroughly, but I glanced at the designs. They were mediocre at best.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with your eyesight, but these are fabulous.”

“My point exactly. Between the time I took the designs home and brought them back, somebody played Project Runway with them.”

“You mean someone at the house?”

Tristan shrugged. “You’ve always shown a great eye for form and color. I thought perhaps…” He trailed off as Devin shook his head.

“It wasn’t me, brother. Even as much as I’d like to take credit for it. These are great.”

“They are,” Tristan agreed. “But who redesigned them?”

Devin shrugged. “We have a staff of twenty on hand. Any of them I suppose. Maybe even Claire.”

Tristan made a face. “Claire?” He couldn’t imagine his mousey little wife—uh correction, hot-to-trot wife designing more than last night’s menu. But then again, she was turning out to be more of an enigma than he had ever anticipated.

“Why don’t you ask her?”

Ask her? She’d barely looked at him in the two days since he had given her the bracelet. Since he had called her a mouse. Dangit. It was a compliment, couldn’t she see that?

He rubbed at his chest again.

Devin stood to leave, but only made it as far as the door before turning and eyeing him cautiously. “You okay?”

Tristan nodded. “I will be.” Just as soon as he could figure out who changed the designs and what in the heck happened to his docile wife.

Devin let himself out and Tristan sat back in his seat willing the last dose of Tums to work quickly.

The perfect idea flashed through his mind and without a second thought, he picked up the phone, punching the number to connect him with Gladys.

“Yes, Mr. McFarland?”

“Get me the Mercedes dealership on the phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

He clicked off and waited while Gladys did as he bade. A faint smile played at his lips. Buying Claire a new car should set his conscience straight and make Claire happy to boot. With any luck it would also ease the burning in his chest.

♥♥♥

“No need, sweetie. I’ll show myself in.”

Claire turned just as the owner of the familiar voice entered the study where she and Esperanza were reading.

“Cherry! How nice to see you again.” Claire stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her worn shorts. She hadn’t been expecting anyone today and certainly no drop-in visitors.

Cherry Holiday waved away her greeting and kissed the air near both of Claire’s cheeks. “Oh, sweetie,” she gushed, giving the startled Esperanza the same greeting. “After last night, I just had to make a social call. You don’t mind, do you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not at all,” Claire said graciously. She might not really know Cherry, but she did throw a marvelous party, and Claire could certainly use the company this afternoon. Sitting across the study from the non English-speaking Esperanza was not proving to be the distraction that she needed to keep her mind off of last night and Tristan and what almost happened between them.

“Since we didn’t get a chance to chat last night, I thought today would be a perfect time to get to know one another.” Cherry folded her hands in her lap and looked from Claire to Esperanza, an expectant light in her eyes.

“Uum, Espie only speaks Portuguese,” Claire said, hoping to sidetrack Cherry long enough to get her wits about her. Somehow she knew that if she weren’t careful, Cherry could drag out the entire story surrounding her marriage to Tristan, and she was certain that he would be none too happy about that.

“Well, my goodness, sweetie.” She patted Espie on the leg. “This will never do. She’s in America now and simply must learn the language. I know. We’ll hire an interpreter.”

“We will?” Claire asked.

“Of course. That’s just what you need. After all, the two of you are here together most days. It’s the perfect solution. And I know just the man.”

“You do?”

“Janis Freeman’s pool boy, Javier. He’s from…well, somewhere down there, and I just know he speaks Portuguese. I’ll call Janis later and have her send him over a couple of days a week. What a perfect solution.”

“Cherry, I don’t think—”

“Uh-uh-uh. Don’t even try to argue with me.” She gave Claire a hundred-watt, beauty pageant smile. “I won’t listen at all. Once my mind’s made up, it’s made up.”

“But—”

“Now,” Cherry interrupted, clearly going on to other business. “Tell me about you and Tristan.”

“Well,” Claire hedged. “There’s really not much to tell.”

“Pooh.” Cherry smacked her lightly on the hand. “I saw the two of you together last night.”

“Uh-huh,” Claire murmured, not sure of what else to say. Half of Dallas saw them together last night.

“It’s just so obvious.”

“It is?”

“Sweetie, any fool can tell that you are crazy in love with that man.”

“I’m not,” Claire blurted before she could think about the admission. “I mean—”

Cherry smiled. “It’s all right. You don’t have to pretend with me. Anyone who knows Tristan knows that he doesn’t believe in love.” She leaned in closer as if telling Claire a secret, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “That’s really why I came over today.”

“It is?”

Cherry straightened and patted Claire on the hand once again. “Everyone knows about the will—”

“They do?”

“—and everyone knows that Tristan didn’t want to get married—”

“They do?”

“—then after last night…” She let her voice trail off. “Well, I just felt it was my duty to come over here and…well, coach you a bit.”

“Coach me?”

Cherry nodded. “My grandmother and Tristan’s aunt were dear friends, so I know first-hand what Patricia McFarland was trying to accomplish with her crazy will.”

“Oh?” Really, what else could she say?

“Dear old Pat wanted her nephews to get married and fall in love. Now, don’t get me wrong. Normally I wouldn’t put my nose where it doesn’t belong, but after watching you last night…well, I figure since you’re already in love—”

“But I’m not—”

“—what harm would there be in making Tristan fall in love as well.” She clapped her hands together as if she’d just solved world hunger.

“Cherry, wait a minute. I—”

“Don’t fret sweetie, my plan is really simple. All you have to do is pretend like you don’t care about Tristan, and the rest will fall into place.”

“But I—”

“You’ll just have to trust me on this.” She pointed to herself regally. “I know first-hand that men like Tristan are accustomed to having women fall all over themselves in order to get them to notice. It’s only natural that if you act like you don’t care at all, then you’ll pique his interest.”

“But I don’t—”

“It’s how I snagged my Jerry.”

“Cherry, this is really sweet of you, but—”

“Now the first lesson is shopping. Don’t feel guilty about going two or three times a week. He expects you to go, and he expects you to look nice.” She grimaced at Claire’s worn and faded outfit then shrugged her slim shoulders. “So go. And go often. But remember, always act as if it’s not a big thing.”

“What?”

“Everything. Act as if everything is teeny-weeny in importance. Pout a lot and dote on the dog.” She pointed to Bruno who had curled up in Claire’s lap as if it were his God given right. “Remember, ignore him as much as possible. Tristan, that is. It’s the key to a man’s heart.” She checked her watch and abruptly stood. “Oh, look at the time. I really must go.”

In that same flitty manner, Cherry kissed the air by their cheeks once again and breezed to the door. “No need to see me out. I know the way. We’ll do lunch sometime next week. You can give me an update then.”

“But—” Claire started, but Cherry was already gone.

Claire sank back down on the couch, breathing slowly in and out. Being in the same room with Cherry Holiday was like trying to suck the air out of a tornado. It was just one of those things you should avoid like a plague.

Bruno crawled back into her lap, and Claire scratched him behind his ears.

The only problem with Cherry was that she was right even though Claire hadn’t wanted to face up to the facts until now. She was in love with Tristan McFarland. How stupid could she be to fall in love with her husband?

“Now, what am I going to do?”

Bruno looked up at her with those big dark eyes of his and just blinked. Espie stared at her blankly. No help here.

She supposed she could take Cherry’s advice, but it seemed so superficial. Of course she wanted Tristan to care about her, but she wanted him on her terms, not the other way around.

♥♥♥

Claire sighed heavily and blew her recently feathered bangs out of her face. For the third time in the last ten minutes, she tried to focus on what Javier was saying. True to her word, Cherry had sent Janis Freeman’s pool boy over to help Claire and Esperanza communicate, but so far, Claire was having trouble deciphering what he was saying in English versus what he was saying in Portuguese. However, the miscommunication wasn’t the fault of the tan and gorgeous dark-haired Javier; it lay with Claire. She just couldn’t concentrate.

She had wanted to show Tristan how much she cared and hopefully entice him to care for her. She knew that he was a little interested in her—at least physically. But the deeper she found herself in love with him, the more she wanted him to notice her. Sure, he noticed her after she’d had a makeover, but she didn’t want him merely attracted to clothes and cosmetics. She wanted him attracted to her. She sighed again. She might as well wish for the moon.

♥♥♥

“Claire? Is that you?”

She turned around just as Tristan came out of his office. His hair was pleasantly tousled as if some lucky lady had recently run loving fingers through it. His tie was askew and his suit coat missing.

Claire transferred all of her packages to one hand and turned to face her husband. “Did you want something?”

He nodded. “Can I talk to you for a second?” Yes!

Claire shrugged. “Sure.” She dropped her bags on the bottom stair and followed Tristan into his office.

Once inside, Claire sank down into one of the leather chairs in front of his desk.

Tristan handed her a file. “Did you do that?” he asked.

Claire flipped through the papers, all covered with what looked like clothing designs, most of them even better than the clothes she had recently bought. “Did I what?”

“Do that. Draw them. Alter them.”

“Of course not.”

“I knew it.” Tristan smacked the fist of one hand into the palm of the other. “I told Devin that it had to be someone else.”

Claire’s confusion rose. “You thought that I’d drawn these designs? That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Well, we thought perhaps that you re-designed them, so to speak. You see, I brought this file home with me and someone here altered them.”

“And you thought I did it?” She stood.

Tristan blinked and somehow managed to look sheepish. “Well, yeah.”

She thrust the papers back at him. “I would never harm your business.”

Tristan shook his head. “I don’t think you understand. I love the designs. I’m planning on putting them in production for next spring, and I want to bring on board whoever drew them. They’re brilliant.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t me.” And in her heart of hearts, she wished that it had been.

She started for the door, turning once to glance at him as he sat back down at his desk, head bent over the file as if it contained the answers to all the world’s problems.

Then again, maybe not.

♥♥♥

It took exactly ten days for Claire’s car to arrive from the dealership. Tristan was so excited that he could hardly keep the news to himself. He wasn’t sure why this was so important to him. It just was. He had never before thought about a woman’s happiness or how she felt about him or the world that he lived in. He’d never before wondered if she was happy or getting along. He simply knew that they were and that was enough. But Claire was different. As soon as he thought he had her figured out, she changed on him again. If nothing else, she intrigued him.

But it was the look on her face when he asked her about the designs that haunted him. Ever since the night of Cherry Holiday’s party he had been sleeping in his office downstairs. It seemed he had a lot to learn where his wife was concerned. But kissing her, holding her close, then trying to sleep a mere few feet from her was next to impossible. At least downstairs he could pretend that she wasn’t driving him slowly out of his mind.

The day the car was scheduled to arrive, despite the confused and curious looks that he received from Claire, Tristan feigned a headache and stayed home from work. He knew deep down that he should be at the office, trying to get the design team to get together a decent line for next spring. Or at the very least, he should be trying to figure out just who had altered the designs that he’d brought home with him that day.

It could wait until tomorrow, he told himself. He wanted to see Claire’s face when her car arrived. With any luck it would put that sweet smile back on her lips.

A loud knock sounded on the front door, followed by the chime of the doorbell. Tristan closed the file he’d been going through and jumped to his feet. “It’s here,” he called, rushing out of his home office and into the foyer. “Claire! It’s here.”

His summons brought up half of the household staff, who looked at him with matching bemused expressions, but no Claire.

Tristan turned to Sarah, the downstairs maid. “Where is she?”

Sarah blinked at him once, but didn’t speak.

“My wife,” Tristan said slowly. “You know, cute. Blond hair. Where is she?”

“I believe she’s out by the pool, sir.” Holmes stepped forward as the doorbell rang again, sending its summons echoing through the foyer. “Shall I go and fetch her for you?”

Tristan nodded. “And hurry.” He turned to his downstairs maid. “Tell the man at the front door to keep his shirt on, we’ll be there in a minute.”

She nodded and went to do as Tristan had instructed.

“What’s the matter?” Seconds later, Claire burst through the French doors, out of breath. Bruno was tucked securely under one arm.

Tristan smiled. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

He slung one arm around her shoulders and led her and the dog toward the front door. “A surprise.” With a flourish worthy of any daytime game show host, he flung open the door. “Ta-da.”

“Oh. My. Gosh,” Claire whispered.

“Do you like it?” Tristan asked, studying her to decipher her expression.

“I’ve never seen anything like it in my entire life.”

Not the reaction he’d expected, but good nonetheless. “I wanted you to have something special.”

“I’m not sure special even comes close to describing this. This…this is too much.”

Something was wrong. She didn’t like the car. “But I—” He felt his hopes fall as he glanced from Claire to the car, then did a double take.

The Mercedes parked in the drive was not the pale metallic blue that he’d ordered, but a sparkly, shocking pink. The exact color of the dress Claire had worn to their wedding celebration.

Words tumbled around inside his head, but none found their way into sentences. All he could do was mock Claire and simply stare at the car.

“You Tristan McFarland?” a gruff voice asked.

Tristan nodded.

“Then sign here please.” The man handed him a tablet and a stylus. “Don’t press too hard. Danged thang has been giving me fits today.”

Numbly Tristan took the tablet. Then looked to his wife. “Will you excuse me a moment?”

She nodded, her gaze still glued on the pink Mercedes.

Tristan took the delivery driver by the arm and led him a few feet away from Claire. “This isn’t the car I ordered.”

Sal—the man’s name was stitched on a badge just above the pocket of his shirt—took the tablet back and scrolled up the screen. “Is this your name?” he asked, flashing the tablet’s screen back to Tristan.

Tristan nodded.

“Then this is your car.”

Tristan opened his mouth to protest, but Sal continued.

“Says right here one Sparkling Raspberry Mercedes SLK 250 Roadster. If you’re Tristan McFarland, then that there is your Sparkling Raspberry Mercedes SLK 250 Roadster.”

“But I wanted a blue one.” A nice, Claire conservative, sky-blue Mercedes for his wife. That wasn’t too much to ask for.

“Listen, buddy, I don’t paint ‘em. I just deliver ‘em. Sign here, please.” He pushed the tablet back toward Tristan.

With no other recourse, Tristan penned his name on the line indicated and handed the invoice back to Sal. “I really didn’t order this.”

The man started toward the car that was to take him back into the city, then suddenly turned to look thoughtfully at Tristan. “You know, maybe you had something else on your mind when you ordered the car.”

Claire’s skimpy, sexy, un-Claire-like pink dress flashed through his mind. “Yeah, maybe,” he said with a wave and walked back to where she was standing.

“I, uh, wanted you to have a way around town and…” He let his words fade. How could he explain this situation to her when he didn’t quite understand it himself? Should he say something like, Don’t worry, dear. We’ll donate this car to charity, and I’ll buy you that blue one I’ve been dreaming about?

He needed to say something. It was so obvious that Claire didn’t like the car. She’d been just standing there staring at it since he’d opened the front door to the house to show her his big surprise. Lord knew, Anna would have a fit if he had presented her with a fine car cast in such a gaudy color.

“Uh, Claire?”

She turned to face him, tears glistening in her big sea-colored eyes. Heaven help him, this was going to be worse than he had originally thought.

“You bought this for me?” she asked, one tear breaking lose and sliding down her cheek.

“Well, I uh…” He’d best tell her the truth. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Tristan,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him close. “It’s the best present I’ve ever received.”

“You like it?”

“I love it!” She pulled back and kissed him on the cheek, then drew him close to her once again.

Tristan didn’t know what to do, so he just wrapped his arms around her and held her close, relishing the fact that she was in his embrace.

 

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status