Valentine's Dream

Valentine’s Day can be a time of wonderful surprises, even for those who aren’t looking for love. Delight in these charming classic stories of unexpected romance, passion and desire.

Love Changes Everything by Sandra Kitt

Carter Morrison is a changed man. Grace Haley never imagined that her late husband’s best friend would turn into the improved man she now sees. And when he asks her for a little Valentine’s Day advice, she’ll discover a longing deep in her heart.…

Sweet Sensation by Carmen Green

Nessie Claiborne only wants to make her firm’s annual Valentine’s Day charity extravaganza a success. But the moment she tries to work with handsome, sensible executive Craig DuPont, she finds her impractical ideas and his hidden longings are producing a love affair neither expected.

Made in Heaven by Felicia Mason

Val Sanders doesn’t believe in romance or love at first sight. Then she receives a gift certificate for a dating service and meets Eric Fitzgerald, the sexy bachelor owner. Has Eros loosed an arrow…one headed straight for Val’s heart?

Valentine’s Dream

Sandra Kitt

Carmen Green

Felicia Mason

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

CONTENTS

LOVE CHANGES EVERYTHING

SWEET SENSATION

MADE IN HEAVEN

Love Changes Everything

Sandra Kitt

To my late father, Archie Benjamin Kitt,

who gave me my first box of Valentine candy,

taught me to dance as I stood on his feet,

and nicknamed me Lady.

Thanks and gratitude to my agent, Lisa Erbach Vance,

for her amazing support and guidance.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Prologue

“We’re taking off, bro.”

Carter Morrison, who’d been quietly observing the poised woman in conversation on the other side of the room, turned at the announcement to find two men and a woman waiting to say goodbye. He’d met them before, years earlier, and knew them by name. They were colleagues of his best friend, Benson Haley.

“Gotta get back to work,” the second man said apologetically.

“Hey, glad you could make it. Sorry we had to meet up again under these circumstances,” Carter said, shaking the hands offered to him by the two men.

“This is rough, but Grace seems to be holding up,” the first man observed.

“She’ll be fine,” Carter said confidently.

“Benson was a great guy,” the second man added. “I didn’t know what to say. Wish her well. You know.”

“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” said the woman, shaking her head in disbelief. “One minute he’s making all kinds of plans for the mayor this fall, and then he just—”

“It’s a tough thing to say, but the mayor is going to fill Benson’s spot and move right on,” Carter cut in quietly, not wanting to hear again the blunt way in which his friend’s sudden death was being described.

Benson Haley had dropped dead at the feet of three reporters while making a statement on behalf of his boss, the mayor.

“I know you’re right, my man, but it’s not going to be so easy for Grace. She’s got two young kids, a house, a mother-in-law. Damn,” the first man muttered and then looked shame-faced at his blasphemy. “They hadn’t been married all that long, right?”

“Five years,” Carter replied.

“Well, at least they had that. Hardly anyone stays together that long anymore,” the woman commented. She then caught the gaze of one of her companions, who silently signaled her not to go there.

Carter didn’t have to watch the exchange to know where the remark was coming from. The innuendo was not unreasonable, but it was off base. He’d heard some of the rumors that the deceased had stepped out once or twice on his wife but didn’t know if they were true or not. Nonetheless, the thought caused Carter to shift his attention and covertly scan the room. He spotted the object of their discussion, Benson’s widow, Grace, standing near an occasional table that was top heavy with an extravagant floral arrangement from the mayor himself. Appearing serene, if a bit tired, she was listening and smiling benignly at the emotional testimony of her late husband’s assistant.

“Benson said something recently about you moving back to New York from...”

“Chicago,” Carter responded, bringing his gaze around to the trio, watching as they searched for and found the tickets to retrieve their coats on their way out of the midtown club. “Not just yet. I’m doing some important work there, for the moment.”

The first man chortled. “Chicago? Too damn cold,” he said, once again catching his irreverence too late.

“Maybe he has family there,” the woman suggested to her companion.

“I don’t,” Carter corrected. “I just can’t make a move right now.”

“Give me a call when you come back,” said the woman, smiling at Carter coyly. “Let’s get together.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” one of the men added.

Carter watched until all three had left the salon before turning to look for Grace once more, Benson’s former coworkers immediately forgotten.

She was shaking the hand of a relative from Benson’s side of the family and kissing another, who was also preparing to leave. Then a couple, neighbors from the Westchester enclave where Grace and Benson lived, approached, waiting for Grace’s attention. Carter silently monitored the interaction and her response. While Grace appeared sad and pensive—even numb with grief, which was perfectly understandable—it was hard for him to tell how she was really doing under the strain of the past week.

He tried to imagine what it must have been like getting the call that notified Grace of her husband’s collapse while at work and then rushing to the hospital an hour later, only to be told he was already gone. Carter wondered how she’d felt learning that Benson had died almost instantly, felled by an aneurysm, even before the call to her had been placed. Afterward, she would have had the terrible task of calling her mother-in-law, Marjorie, to tell her that her only child, her beloved, handsome and brilliant son, was dead. And there was Grace herself. How was she doing?

Carter looked at the time and checked out the remaining guests. He saw Grace’s father, Ward Mathison, chatting and laughing with several former classmates of both Benson and Grace from NYU, where they’d gotten their undergraduate degrees, and where they’d met. Ward caught his gaze and nodded briefly, continuing with his conversation. Carter paced along the side of the room, thinking that he should leave as well. He guessed that after a week of ceremony, testimony, tears and the prevailing shock that hovered over everyone, Grace probably just wanted to be alone.

Grace’s simple two-piece black ensemble made her look elegant and slender, and offset her tan complexion. Her only makeup, lipstick, had worn off during the past few hours. Her hair, which was as long as when he’d first met her five years earlier, was brushed back from her face and rolled into a neat twisted knot at the back of her head. She wore no other jewelry besides her engagement and wedding rings, and both sparkled on her left hand, an ever-present reminder. She had been appropriately named, Carter thought, as she gracefully handled everyone else’s surprise, grief and memories. What would she do with her own?

Carter raised his gaze to Grace’s face to find her studying him as well. He looked for signs of distress but saw only wide-eyed bewilderment, a kind of stunned appeal. Their mutual regard narrowed the distance between them across the salon, but only for a few seconds as someone else claimed her. He watched as Grace sat with the guest, patiently attentive while they expressed their condolences about her husband.

Carter stood alone. He knew he should be leaving. He wasn’t sure what more he could do here now that the memorial service was over. But something kept him slowly circulating around the room, reluctant to say goodbye. He looked around for Benson’s mother, Marjorie. Not seeing her, he was sure that she was sitting alone somewhere, closeted with her pain. He’d always liked Marjorie. Perhaps she was a little too devoted and maternal, a bit too much the stage mother to an ambitious son, but Carter admired what she’d managed as a single parent. She’d raised a son and kept him out of the seductive clutches of street life and away from other bad influences.

Suddenly, Carter saw Marjorie emerge through a door that he thought led to a small library in the vast complex of the club. She was blowing her nose in a wad of tissues balled in her hand. A stout woman of average height and in her sixties, Marjorie was considered a pretty and curvaceous woman in her youth. She had given her life to nurturing her only child and with him gone, Carter knew Marjorie had aged virtually overnight. She straightened her back, but her shoulders were still curved from the weight of her loss. The perfect hairdo of her stylish wig was the only thing about Marjorie that was not in disarray.

“Can I get you anything?” Carter asked, placing a solicitous hand on Marjorie’s back and bending slightly toward her.

“All that food going to waste. It’s a shame, but I really couldn’t eat a thing,” Marjorie said, looking distressed at the very idea.

“Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you something to drink. How about hot tea?”

Marjorie nodded and gave her consent with an absent gesture of her hand.

Carter walked silently across the carpeted floor. The room seemed so much bigger now that most of the guests had left. On his way, he once again searched out Grace. Finding her, he could see the first signs that the long afternoon, indeed the past ten days, was taking its toll. He could detect strain between her eyes and a tightening of her mouth, which prohibited a natural smile. She was absently twisting her wedding ring round and round her finger, sliding it up to the knuckle before pushing it back into place. Halfway across the room, Carter hesitated a moment before continuing. At the console table, which was laden with light refreshments, Carter poured hot water and made a cup of tea for Marjorie Haley. He carefully carried it back to her. After a moment’s hesitation, he took a seat by her side.

“Thank you, Carter,” she murmured. Her voice was hoarse and deep from crying. “I appreciate that you stayed to help with everything.”

Carter took her hand. “Benson was my best friend. He knew I’d do anything for him. I’m sorry that it came down to this.”

“Yes,” Marjorie said, her voice warbling and her hand trembling around the cup of tea.

“You’re going to be fine,” he soothed.

Marjorie raised her head proudly, her eyes red and watery and filled with despair. “The good Lord willing. He saw fit to take my child, but I’m blessed to have Madison and Becca. I don’t know what I’d do without my grandbabies.”

“And Grace,” Carter added, watching the older woman. “You know she’ll be there for you always.”

“We’ll see,” Marjorie said cryptically.

“I wish there was something more I could say to you besides I’m sorry. Benson was a good man, and he did you proud.”

“He could have become a judge one day,” Marjorie prophesied. “Maybe a senator.”

“Maybe.” He glanced around. There were only a handful of people left, but Grace was nowhere in sight. He stood up. “Will you be all right for a while? I’m going to check to make sure that everything’s taken care of.”

Marjorie silently nodded as she sipped her tea.

Carter headed to the same room that Marjorie had appeared from, but it was empty, as were the two small alcoves next to the fireplace. He proceeded through a passageway leading to a series of rooms. One was being used as a staging area for the preparation of the refreshments for Benson’s memorial service. A second room housed a photocopier, fax machine and several cartons of paper. The door of the third room opened, and a man stepped out, closing it behind him. He was carrying a sheaf of documents as he walked toward Carter.

“Yes?” the man inquired, raising his brows and blocking Carter’s way.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Haley,” Carter responded.

“She’s in my office, but I don’t think she wants to see anyone just now. It’s been an emotional day.”

“Yes, it has. I’m a close friend of the family. I want to make sure she’s all right.”

“She seemed a little weary so I gave her my office for some privacy. Can I help you with anything?”

Carter was amused that the man, in his own way, was being protective of Grace by running interference. “I’m just going to let her know I’m leaving.”

The man finally acquiesced and stepped aside. Carter waited until he had gone before reaching for the door. From within the room came the low but distinct sound of Grace crying. For a moment Carter considered leaving, weighed down with the feelings of loss, even his own. But as the sounds became more plaintive and heartbreaking, he went against what was perhaps the best thing to do under the circumstances. He opened the door and quietly slipped inside.

Grace was sitting, ironically, on a love seat positioned next to the door. She was hunched forward with her elbows on her knees, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed into a tissue. It was pressed against her mouth, held in place by both hands. Her eyes were closed, but tears leaked beneath the lids to trail down her cheeks and through her fingers. For a moment Carter could do nothing but watch helplessly, mesmerized and miserable as he bore witness to what she was going through.

His jaw and throat tightened, and he felt a sudden anger that took him by surprise. He stood in front of Grace and squatted down on his haunches. He was so close to her that he could see the veins in her temple, filled with the coursing blood of stress and emotion. He could smell the faint but fragrant scent of her perfume. The tissue she held was sodden. Carter looked around for a box of Kleenex and placed it next to her on the sofa. He pulled several fresh ones from the top and carefully touched Grace’s hand to give them to her.

She jumped, her crying abruptly cut off as she opened her eyes, startled to find him there. Carter put his hands on her arms, gently rubbing them to calm her. She stared at him, her eyes wide, slightly red, and watery.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Carter said softly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Grace suddenly got up from the sofa, stumbling away to stand next to a massive oak desk. Her chin trembled, and her eyes filled with fresh tears. “I’m not okay,” she said tightly.

Carter stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling foolish. She began crying again. “I know this is hard for you, Grace. Benson was a great guy....” She turned away from him. “I wish there was something I could do....”

With a great wrenching sob, Grace turned and looked at Carter. The expression on her face was more than he could stand. He barely had time to think about what he was doing before he opened his arms. Grace stepped into them and allowed him to hold her. Her crying was quiet now, but just as intense and poignant. Carter applied everything he could think of to comfort her. He slowly rocked back and forth. He softly murmured sympathetic but unintelligible words. He rubbed a comforting circle on her back. He closed his eyes, fully experiencing the weight of her in his arms. He pressed her face to his chest, absorbing her anguish as he fought his own.

“You loved him very much, didn’t you?” he found himself asking, holding his breath as he awaited an answer.

There was no response from Grace beyond her turning her head to rest a cheek against his jaw. The warm fanning of her breath was against his neck. That was, oddly, enough for Carter.

Neither of them heard the office door quietly open and then close a moment later.

Chapter 1

“Grace, it’s Brian. Come in.”

“Yes, Brian. I’m here.”

“I thought I’d let you know what’s going on. We have a few problems.”

Grace Haley moved slowly and unnoticed on the periphery of the crowded party as she answered the call on her walkie-talkie. She was on duty at the evening gala, overseeing the arrangements and details, while three hundred formally dressed guests were occupied with boisterous conversation and laughter. Their collective joie de vivre was fueled by several open bar stations, as well as unlimited glasses of champagne being served by a circulating waitstaff. The din was so loud that the music of the quartet playing at one end of the hall could barely be heard. Grace pressed her earphone tightly to hear above the noise.

“Go ahead,” she said, talking as discreetly as she could, hoping not to draw attention to herself.

“The ladies’ room outside the hall is out. I’ll have to close it off until maintenance can deal with a malfunctioning stall.”

“Get a sign up as soon as you can. We’ll reassign the men’s room to the ladies for the rest of the night and direct the men to the lower-level restrooms.”

“Okay.”

“And let the attendants on duty know ASAP about the change so they can inform guests looking for the facilities.”

“I’ve already notified the supervisor...”

Grace positioned herself in the shadow of the Ionic pillars just inside the entranceway to the hall, where a meet-and-greet reception was being held for employees and guests of a large financial institution. She’d passed by several times, checking out the arriving guests. She was familiar with the sponsoring company and knew one of the employees from an affiliate office.

From where she stood, she could also take in most of the main hall and the attendees. Her gaze roamed absently over the gathering. In a brief parting of several people across the open space, she suddenly caught a fleeting glimpse of a tall black male guest and did a double take. A sudden stomach spasm signaled recognition. Then she lost sight of him.

“...arranged beforehand.”

“Sorry, Brian. Say that again,” Grace instructed, searching for that face that had stirred to life part of her past, giving rise to disturbing and conflicting feelings within her.

“I said one of the corporate bigwigs wanted to know if the guests could walk through the exhibits on the main floor. I told them it wasn’t possible because there wasn’t adequate security on duty to cover those areas.”

“Good response, but tell the attendants to keep an eye out, anyway. So far, everything seems to be going well,” Grace commented while she began her slow patrol again. She observed the guests intently, even as she wondered if she’d imagined what she thought she’d seen.

“We’ve had the usual stuff happen. Spilt drinks and squashed canapés, glasses and plates left all over the place. Somebody got sick near the corridor to Gallery 3, but it’s been cleaned up.”

“Thanks,” Grace said, giving up her search. She’d made a mistake. “I’ll be outside the rotunda as the guests are directed to dinner. I’ll notify the caterers to begin breaking down the bar as soon as the hall is empty. Is that everything?”

“Caught a couple who’d sneaked into one of the exhibition halls.”

“Nothing embarrassing, I hope.”

Grace watched as a tuxedoed staffer from the communications office maneuvered his way to her, silently indicating a need to talk with her.

“I’m told it was limited to kissing and hugging...”

“Brian, hold on a minute. What is it?” she asked the staffer.

“Sorry to interrupt. There’s someone who says he’d like to speak with you. He’s over there.”

He pointed, but all Grace could see was a densely packed group of people engaged in their own conversations.

“What about?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Did he give you his name?”

“No, but I think I can take you to him.”

Grace shook her head. If it was important, if it was who she thought, he’d find her again. She held up her hand to the staffer.

“I can’t leave now. If you see the gentleman again, give him my apologies. Maybe Steve Milton can help him. Steve should be with the caterers.”

“I’ll go check,” the staffer said as he walked away. At that moment she could hear a gong being sounded to signal to the guests that they were to proceed to another hall for the formal sit-down dinner.

Grace spoke again into her walkie-talkie. “Brian, I have to go.”

“One more thing. Security has calculated that there are probably fifty to seventy-five more attendees than the guest list allowed for. I had two of my staff using counters as people checked in.”

“Review the numbers, and give the development office a head count in the morning. Let them decide what to do about any added expense.”

When Grace finished relaying instructions, she was already in motion, hurrying off to make sure the guests were being properly ushered into dinner. She tried not to let her attention wander.

She stood to the side as the main hall emptied and the guests filed past her into the rotunda. She allowed herself a few moments to study the beautifully dressed women while indulging in a private game of picking out the dresses she liked the best. She smiled to herself as she also realized that she no longer had occasion to wear anything so elegant. While she was nicely dressed in a simple, black, cocktail-length dress appropriate for the event, she certainly couldn’t compete with the glamorous women guests decked out in expensive designer gowns.

It took almost twenty minutes for everyone to find their table and then covertly switch places with one another as invariably happened. The caterers then served the first course, offering each guest a choice of red or white wine with dinner. The noise dropped to a low hum, and Grace breathed a sign of relief. She’d managed to keep things moving through half the evening without any serious mishap or griping by the sponsors.

Part of Grace went into a new alert mode as she took in the seated guests. She resisted the urge to try and identify any one person. Ten minutes into the first course, she signaled for the attention of a technician, waiting discreetly behind a screen with the audio-visual equipment to make sure the microphones were ready for use.

At one of three main tables where the corporate higher-ups and their wives were prominently seated, one man suddenly stood up. Grace automatically turned her attention to him. The lights were very low, and the room was softly illuminated by cleverly designed centerpiece candles on each table. She could not see his features clearly but didn’t need to. She experienced instant recognition and a feeling that was akin to fight or flight. Grace was quickly able to overcome the surprise factor and had time to compose herself before she heard him call out her name.

Someone else did the same from several feet away. Grace turned around as the catering supervisor approached to request instructions on what to do with the leftover food and the extra bottles of liquor. When she’d finished conversing with him, she pivoted slowly and found herself face-to-face with the man who’d called from across the dinner hall.

She lost her sense of time and place. She remained controlled, but her smile was stiff, her hands cold. She rested her gazed upon him, cold and distant.