My Only Wish

  Dream Cache Publishing

  MY ONLY WISH

  Dream Cache Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  www.janelledaniels.com

  Copyright © 2013 Janelle Daniels

  Cover Art © 2013 Creative Book Covers

  All rights 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 or reviews.

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  JANELLE DANIELS ANNOUNCEMENT LIST!

  To my sisters.

  You make writing too much fun.

  “This is so stupid,” Abby muttered to herself as she pulled into a parking space in the empty lot. But she was not turning back. The letter was already written.

  Gravel crunched beneath her battered sneakers. Sand from the beach trailed out to the lot, concealing most of the white parking lines. The beach wasn’t as scrupulously maintained in the off season.

  She walked around her car, opening the passenger door with a determined yank. As soon as she sent the letter, she would forget it. It would be out there. Somewhere in the Universe where Santa or whatever other wish grantor would know of it.

  Who was she kidding? Santa, really?

  She rolled the letter, carefully placing the crisp page in the clear bottle, making sure to screw the lid on tight. It would likely sink immediately, not bothering to travel more than several yards, but did it matter?

  What harm could it do?

  With December lurking around the corner, the air was frigid as icy winds rolled in off the water. Not one other person dared to leave the comfort of their home to embrace the natural beauty of the turbulent winter ocean.

  She huddled in the hood of her oversized blue sweatshirt, tugging the material forward to protect her ears.

  With only the steady sound of the tide for company, Abby walked to the waterfront, standing directly in front of Lifeguard Tower 1. Sheltered by the nearby bluffs, Tower 1 seemed to be in a world of its own.

  Perhaps it was that loneliness that called to her now.

  Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, making one last wish before she threw the bottle into the greedy sea. The ocean lapped at it, carrying it out into its hungry bowels. The salt spray stung her eyes, but she held them open to see the bottle as long as she could. Unable to stop the watering, she shut her eyes on a fresh wave of tears.

  “So did you do it?”

  Abby glanced up from her laptop, zeroing in on her roommate who hovered in the doorway. “Do what?” Abby smiled knowingly. “And welcome back, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Ashley skipped into the room, stopping at the foot of Abby’s bed. “Oh, come on. You know I’ll just keep asking.”

  It was true. Ashley was as determined as a dog after a bone. Tucking a stray blond curl behind her ear, Abby glanced at her computer again. “All right. Yes. I wrote it and threw it in the ocean. And I’d rather not have to hear you laugh about it.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t laugh.” Ashley sunk to the bed, her sable hair brushing the duvet. “I know how much this means to you.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know why I let it bother me.” Giving up, she put her computer aside. “There are tons of people our age that don’t have anyone and they’re happy.”

  Ashley’s brow arched. “Our age? Like we’re old or something?” She laughed. “Come on, Abby. I wouldn’t say we’re over the hill at twenty-seven. We’re in our prime.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Abby’s lips pursed ruefully. “I’m just sick of being alone. Especially this time of year. I’m sick of going to the parties by myself, sick of watching everyone else enjoy the season with someone at their side.”

  “Maybe you’re just trying too hard.” Ashley held up her hands for silence. “Wait. Just hear me out. I know what you want, but maybe it isn’t all you think it is.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, you only see them out shopping, having fun at parties. The good times. I’m sure it’s not all hearts and rainbows.”

  “Of course not. And I don’t expect anything so unrealistic.”

  “All I’m saying is that maybe you should loosen up. Why not have some fun and stop being so serious about the whole thing? You should come dancing with me on Friday. It may not be a place where you will find your white knight, but you might find some hotty to dance with that will take your mind off of it all.”

  “Clubbing isn’t really my thing.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why I think it will be great for you.”

  Abby laughed at the absurdity of going to a dark, smoky club and picking up some guy. It wasn’t her style at all. But something stopped her from passing on the offer.

  Why shouldn’t she go? Just because it wasn’t her normal thing didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy it. She couldn’t sit around and wait for Mr. Right to show up, and while she seriously doubted any Mr. Right of hers would be hanging out in the club scene, it might be fun.

  “All right. Why not?”

  With a squeal, Ashley launched forward to embrace Abby. “I promise you’ll have fun. The music is great, we’ll get a couple drinks in you, and who knows what will happen?”

  Laughing at her friend’s excitement, she felt a thrill from doing something so out of the ordinary for her.

  Perhaps it was just what she needed.

  Dylan could taste the crisp salt air as it rushed forcefully in and out of his lungs. It was gray out, as much from the salt spray as from the clouds that perpetually hung around this time of year.

  There was nothing new to his morning jog along the beach. His muscles flexed and responded to the uneven ground beneath him as the sand shifted, his heart pumped blood throughout his body faster when he picked up speed, and the movements heated his skin. It was something dependable, something constant.

  Usually, he woke up and began putting on his jogging clothes before it registered he was doing so. It was engrained.

  But not today.

  He knew what waited back at his home atop the bluffs. One pissed-off, five-foot-seven, redhead who swore she wore a size two.

  Charisse.

  She was the right kind of girl, the kind that he normally went after. Smooth, cultured, with enough sass to keep him interested. If only it could have stayed that way.

  Unwilling to head back to the stairs that would lead to an argument he wasn’t ready to have, he plunked down on the sand, staring out at the murky water.

  The ocean had always fascinated him, with its untamed beauty and its ever-changing moods. It could be clear as glass one day, then spitting blue fire the next. It was another constant that he found comfort in. No matter what happened in the world or his life, the tide still rolled in, the waves still crashed.

  His eyes narrowed as something glinted off one of the waves. Watching the water move, he saw the glimmer again.

  A bottle.

  Heaving a sigh, he rose to collect the garbage from the incoming wave. It was a shame that so many people believed that the ocean was their personal dumping ground.

  Washing in to land at his feet, it looked like it was being delivered to him. In any case, he was grateful he wouldn’t have to chase after it.

  His tanned hand wrapped around the neck, carelessly holding it as he would a beer that had gone flat. It wasn’t anything but luck that had him glancing at the bottle again, noticing that it wasn’t empty as he had first thought.

  “A message in a bottle?” The thought amused him enough to have his lips quirk
ing. Glancing up at the house he wasn’t in any hurry to enter, he sat back on the beach, quickly divesting the bottle of its cap, and fished out a rolled note.

  Dear Santa,

  I know it’s been some time since I’ve written you my wish list. In truth, I haven’t believed in you for years. But this year, I want to believe in your magic. I want to believe, even for a few minutes, that this Christmas wish will find its way to you.

  As I sit with my family at Thanksgiving, I feel a hollowness that they can’t fill.

  For Christmas, I want someone to love. Someone who will love me in return. Is this too much to ask for?

  My heart aches as I think of going through another set of holidays in which people will be kissing, holding hands, celebrating their love and good fortune, only to find that I have no one to share that with.

  Please Santa, please send me someone that will make my heart race, someone who will enflame my passions, someone I can laugh and be myself with, and especially someone I will never want to let go.

  Sincerely,

  Abby Carter

  PS. I’ve been nice all year. In fact, I can’t even think of a time I was truly naughty.

  His face slowly lost its amusement as he read the heart-wrenching letter.

  To want someone to love so fiercely was something he never let himself think about. And if he were being honest with himself, it wasn’t something he wanted to think about now.

  After brushing off his sweatpants, he carefully replaced the note in the bottle, resigned to the scene he was about to endure.

  He climbed the wooden staircase to his private residence, not with the trudge of someone fearing their execution, but as a man ready to face the storm.

  Stepping onto the travertine floor, he entered the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water off of the deep blue granite countertop. It took only a moment before he felt her presence in the doorway.

  Finishing with a deep gulp, he turned to her, his posture deceptively relaxed against the counter. “Good morning, Charisse.”

  “Is that all you have to say to me?” Her lips formed into a slicked red pout. “I thought I made myself clear last night.”

  “You did.” He capped and placed the bottle down. “Perfectly clear before you passed out.”

  Red mottled her cheeks. “I had a little too much to drink before coming over, but I meant every word. Where is this going, Dylan?”

  “Why does it have to go anywhere? I thought we were friends who were having a good time. You knew nothing else would come out of it.”

  “You can’t mean that.” Her hips swayed in the tight satin dress she had worn the previous evening. “I know you’ve enjoyed our time together,” she purred seductively.

  He didn’t move as her hand climbed into his hair, her body molding against his. Her eyes gleamed with a hint of desperation that he never found attractive. “I have enjoyed it. And I had hoped to enjoy more time with you.”

  “And you can. I just want to know that our time isn’t being wasted. I want to make sure that we are headed somewhere before I invest my feelings further.” She lowered her lashes coyly.

  In other words, she wanted some type of assurance that she would get her hands on his money. She wasn’t the first to try to wrestle for his fortune, but he found it distasteful. Reaching behind his neck, he pulled her arms away from him. “As I’ve mentioned before, I have no intention of getting serious. My business keeps me busy and I have no desire of getting more involved than we already are.”

  “You jerk!” She jumped back as if burned. “You led me on. You made me believe you cared about me.” The false tears that sprang into her eyes did little to sway him.

  He sighed. If he thought that she was even remotely sincere, he would have been more gentle. He didn’t want to hurt her. He just wanted her to know where he stood.

  “I need some time,” she said, sniffling. “I need to think about what I want.”

  “I understand. Take whatever time you need.”

  Her tears dried quickly as her mouth dropped. “I’m serious, Dylan. I’m leaving for the holidays and won’t be back until after the New Year. You’ll have to do without me for the Governor’s benefit.”

  His brow quirked at her threat. If she thought bailing on him would make him reconsider his matrimonial hesitations she was wrong. “I’ll make other arrangements. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Fine.” She gathered her emotions, delicately clearing her throat. “Merry Christmas, Dylan. I hope you enjoy it.” She didn’t need to add the word alone. He heard it ringing in the air for hours after she stomped out of the door.

  Keeping himself busy, he put in more hours at the office than was necessary, but he still had no desire to head home.

  Besides, when did a company not need the CEO overseeing its operation?

  “Mr. Thane, I’ll be leaving for the evening. Is there anything you need before I go?” his middle-aged assistant asked, waiting patiently in the doorway.

  “Tina, how many times do I need to ask you to call me Dylan?”

  Her lips curved. “I’m not sure.”

  He laughed, scrubbing his face. He hadn’t noticed that the sun had set in the windows to his back. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was past seven. “You’re leaving late today. I’m not working you too hard, am I?”

  “No, Mr. Thane.” The woman gave him a full smile. “I was just finishing up a few things. I’ll be sure to leave on time the rest of the week.”

  “Good. I can’t afford to lose you.”

  “I know.”

  “All right, then.” He chuckled, waving her on. “Head on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” For a woman who wouldn’t call him by his first name she certainly gave him enough cheek.

  And he wouldn’t change her a bit. While reserved on the outside, he knew Tina was ruthless when dealing with contracts, and it was often her sly sense of humor that made a deal stick.

  She had been with the company since its inception, not leaving when things had gotten tight. She’d believed in his dream of turning a small private investigator’s office into a high-profile security firm.

  And he cherished her loyalty. Having no family of his own, she was the closest thing he had to it.

  After packing his laptop, he made sure to lock his office before heading to the parking garage. In reality, the lock on his door was just a formality after the comprehensive security system he had installed on their floor.

  But some habits couldn’t be broken.

  Throwing his keys on the kitchen table after he’d entered the house, he went straight to the fridge for a cold beer. Not bothering with a glass, he headed up to the second story and into his office, glancing out at the ocean through thick panels of glass.

  It was quiet, but not eerie. He had spent a portion of his life far too cramped while being shuffled in and out of foster homes, and he was grateful for the space. And the silence.

  If it got lonely at times, he blocked it out with work. You couldn’t be lonely if you were busy.

  Sliding into his leather office chair, he booted up his laptop, thinking over his conversation with Charisse that morning.

  It was a shame that she decided to be demanding at this time of year. It was a season that begged to be spent with someone, but he wouldn’t bargain his freedom for that companionship. Charisse was quite a package, and no doubt many men would be willing to give her what she wanted, but he wasn’t one of them.

  Alone. The word haunted him. But it had never bothered him so much before. Why now?

  His eyes locked onto the bottle he had pulled from the ocean.

  Was that the reason for his unease? The letter had struck him, made him feel a depth of loneliness that he hadn’t experienced in years. Made him feel what the woman had felt when writing the letter.

  Setting aside his drink, he pulled the paper out of the bottle again, reading the curvy feminine script. He chuckled at the final sentence that lightened the mood of the overall letter, but the sadness r
emained.

  Abby Carter. Who was she?

  He clicked on the necessary software, not bothering to feel any remorse over running a background check on the unknown woman.

  Invasion of a person’s privacy didn’t concern him anymore. He was only interested in gathering information.

  Within thirty minutes, he knew the basics of her life. She grew up twenty minutes away from his house, was twenty-seven, lived in her own apartment not far from her parents, was employed as a nanny for a family with twins, and had excellent credit.

  Lips twitching, he didn’t think he’d ever researched anyone so clean cut. It seemed like a faked history but he knew it wasn’t. He wasn’t jaded enough to think that decent people were extinct. They were out there. There was just never a reason to research them.

  Her background was unspoiled, uncorrupted.

  He should have stopped then, but he needed to see her picture. Had to put a face to her background.

  In two clicks, a picture of Abby Carter filled his screen, pulling the breath from his lungs. Gone from his mind was any image of a woman with mouse-brown hair, plain features, and too-padded body, the usual kind that would lead such an unblemished life.

  Pulling in ragged breaths, he took a quick gulp of his beer. Abby Carter was breathtaking. Her feathery blond hair cascaded over her petite shoulders, showcasing a voluptuous body that a man only dreamed of. She wasn’t a reed-thin mannequin that models and movie stars aspired to. She was old Hollywood. With her hair color and translucent green eyes that twinkled with the laughter that passed her full, ripe lips, she rivaled any pin-up girl he’d ever seen.

  He swiftly cataloged her other features: straight, white teeth, most likely from the help of an orthodontist, dimple in left cheek, one piercing in each ear, no visible tattoos, and the longest legs he’d ever had the pleasure of looking at.

  An image of those legs slowly wrapping around him, his hands on her waist, while she moaned in his ear, had him adjusting in his chair. He was a man after all. A full blooded male who was looking at one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. And he wanted more. Need to know more about her.