Nothing Else Matters (Romance on the Go Book 0) Read online

  When he came, his heartfelt groan echoed on the heels of Claire’s sigh of completion as she milked him dry, and he never wanted to leave that place in time.

  Chapter Six

  She lay quietly in his loose embrace, listening to him sleep, his deep, sonorous breathing that bordered on a snore. That hadn’t changed either and had always lulled her to sleep.

  It was as if he’d never left her, hadn’t vanished for over three months and ripped her life apart. There remained no need in her to castigate him for that, and it should have been vastly troubling. She’d lose her feminist card for sure.

  But what good would it have done to lose it on him? Punish him? Was it possible to make him feel any worse than he did? Would it make her feel better? Or would they both go their separate ways, alone? Maybe forever. She suspected she was a one-man woman.

  The truth was her meltdown in his arms had been the best form of therapy, followed by makeup sex and soul-deep intimacy. Life was short, and it made no sense to languish in all that negativity and waste time. Not when Liam wanted to try again—as did she.

  “You’re awake,” he murmured, his thick thigh shifting against her hip. “Second thoughts?”

  Detecting a thread of uncertainty in his voice, she replied, “No second thoughts, Liam. I was just thinking about how I’m able to just let things … go.”

  “You’re different than other women, Claire, at least women I’ve known. So I hoped…”

  She smiled, the first real one she’d made in a long time. It hurt her face, working seldom used muscles and she laughed at the paltry discomfort. “We should try again. I’m willing to take the chance.”

  His chest rose and fell on a huge intake of air, pulling her tight. “Goddamn lucky guy here. I can hardly believe it. I’ll be an idiot at times, I know, but I’ll never deliberately hurt you again.”

  She believed him, heart and head. “I love you and trust you, despite everything. And nothing else matters.”

  Epilogue

  “I’ve got the specs for the next mission.” Noah brandished a sheaf of paper. “Gather ’round, children.”

  Respecting the bounds of confidentiality—and security—Claire stood on her toes to kiss Liam, who obligingly leaned down to find her mouth. As usual, her heart rate ramped up, and she clung to him, wanting more.

  When he released her, she managed a smile and said, “I’ll leave you to it.”

  He looped an arm around her shoulders and walked her to the door. “I’ll see you at home, sweetheart. Probably in a couple of hours.”

  Noah, Clint, Michael, and the new guy, Brad, were already moving into position around the big board table where the papers were being laid out. She threw them a wave and stepped out of the office.

  Liam followed and drew the door partly closed behind them. He dropped to his knees and pressed his face against her swollen belly. She felt his lips right through the material of her dress.

  Looking up, he winked. “I’m still too macho to be seen doing this—and I don’t want to share the experience, either.”

  They’d been back together for just over a year, and she was eight months pregnant. They hadn’t discussed a baby but mutually eschewed birth control and therefore weren’t surprised. She’d been anxious at first, but with Liam present and accounted for, she’d dealt.

  Dr. Salinger was delighted, Claire having moved back to the smaller center to her boss’s chagrin, and he’d renewed her faith in him as well—he’d found his footing in the practice and was fitting in. He was the first to assure her that her mental health wasn’t a concern, going as far to remind her of her innate strength.

  “He’s busy today,” she said, laying her hand on Liam’s head and stroking his hair. “Watch he doesn’t kick you.”

  “She’s busy. And she’d never kick her daddy.”

  “We’ll see.” She was sure they were having a boy, but they’d declined the reveal at the ultrasound.

  He gave her belly another kiss and a little pat, and then rose to his considerable height. “I’d better get in there. I might not be wheels up with them, but they need my not-so-gentle guidance.”

  “Old man,” she teased. “Sharing all that experience.”

  He’d been deadly serious in re-establishing their relationship, packing in the ‘boots on the ground’ side of the contract work, securing jobs and planning them—from stateside. He was never away from her for more than an overnight and those were rare.

  “Experienced. Exactly.” He stood and slipped a hand around to cup her bottom. “And I don’t hear you complaining.”

  “No complaints. Not one. See you soon. Don’t forget we’re having dinner with Jo and Sid tonight.”

  “I won’t. It’s time for my monthly dissection.”

  Joanne was still protective and cautious, and Liam accepted it, almost welcomed it. Claire harbored no concerns. Not one. “Hurry home.”

  She made her way to the elevator, feeling the heat of his stare on her back as she put a little extra effort into the swing of her hips. Let the anticipation build.

  “Two hours!” he called.

  Smiling, she stepped inside the car. After getting through those ninety days, a paltry two-hour wait for him was entirely doable.

  The End

  www.perielizabethscott.com

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  BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER

  THE TATTERED BRIDE

  Peri Elizabeth Scott

  Copyright © 2016

  Chapter One

  4:00 PM

  “Baby, I know the timing sucks. I couldn’t have chosen a worse time. I know that. But…”

  “What’s wrong, Logan? What is it?” The cold chill of dreadful premonition traced its icy finger along her spine. Her own hands clenched around her bouquet, despite her need to touch him.

  He winced. The fit of his tuxedo was impeccable, and she watched the jacket tighten as his big body tensed. “There’s no other way to say it. I’m sorry. I’m calling off the wedding. We aren’t getting married.”

  The world narrowed to him and her, and a little slice of churning emotions she couldn’t decipher. “You’re calling off the wedding. Our wedding. Now.” Just in case she hadn’t heard him correctly. This had the makings of a horrible, sick joke…

  Shoving a hand through his hair, he obviously struggled to meet her stare. His tawny eyes were turbulent. “I am. I … just decided. It’s—”

  “What?” Victoria tumbled to it, falling into the abyss of her history. Deep down, she knew why. Too bad he’d only just decided. Now. At this inopportune time. All her issues and stupid insecurities washed over her from wherever they’d been banished to, banished by Logan’s resolute pursuit and sincere belief in her. He’d addressed her fears, made her whole—and now? Now her tender underbelly was exposed—without a shred of armor—for the deathblow. The sublime lovemaking of a mere few hours earlier faded in the face of it.

  “I—” Real pain and misery now seemed to burn in his eyes, and despite her terrified anticipation, she wanted to soothe him. Through set lips, he continued, “I don’t have the words to tell you why Victoria. I’m sorry. But the wedding is off.”

  Still, she waited, believing he would somehow embellish, give her an explanation that wouldn’t make this about her, but he stood there mutely, now staring someplace over her shoulder. She checked out the direction of that gaze—maybe there was an answer there, but she saw only a watercolor of a pastoral scene. Please.

  She let her pride crumble and begged. “Logan. This doesn’t make any sense. We… Only this morning…”

  He shook his head and straightened to his full height. “It’s off.”

  Deep inside there was an utter certainty that it did indeed make sense. He’d figur
ed her out. Seen to the core of her the way others had. In despair, she gave up the fight to believe in him and their love in response to his firm declaration. The Victoria of her childhood emerged, in blind response, lashing out to hide from the truth.

  “Was it the thrill of the chase? And then when you caught me, you became afraid you were settling? That there’s something better around the corner?”

  She didn’t want to wait for a response. She had to leave. Now. What would get her past the sideways looks and the knowing stares? The church was full of family and friends—and others who had probably predicted this very moment…

  “Victoria. You need to calm down. It’s not like that.”

  “Calm. Down?” She was aware her voice was climbing as she talked over him, and the small room, the one where she and Logan would have been closeted to sign the papers finalizing their marriage, wasn’t soundproof. She modulated her tone the very best she could, humiliation and pain squeezing her very being. “What is it like, then, exactly?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Tell me.”

  He looked away. “I can’t.”

  Dropping her beautiful bouquet of red roses, entwined with baby’s breath and white, embossed ribbon on the desk, the air currents disturbed the uncompleted marriage papers. They fluttered, mocking her. She stared up at the face of the man she loved. And faced the realization that she indeed still loved him. That part, at least, hadn’t changed despite the mortification of being dumped at the freaking altar. Love. She thought it was love. Too bad it wasn’t real.

  “And I’m supposed to take that and be calm!”

  “Yes, calm down.” His face was set in grim determination, his eyes hot. “We’ll … we’ll get through this.”

  She narrowed her eyes and leaned into him. What couldn’t she be one of those classy women who took this kind of thing in stride and walked away without making a scene? Maybe she could be. Drawing on a reserve of strength she wasn’t aware she possessed, she said, “I’m calm. Dead calm. So shut up now. I never want to hear your voice again, let alone set eyes on you.”

  Squaring her shoulders, she closed off his next attempt to speak. She avoided his outstretched hand and ignored the sudden abject despair written across his handsome features. Was he embarrassed? If he didn’t want a scene, why in hell had he chosen this public place to dump her? Flinging the door open to the main part of the church, she surveyed the people filling the pews. Those congregated there stilled into silence, with only an occasional murmur marring the quiet. Dozens of pairs of eyes looked in their direction. Victoria stepped forward. Classy. She could do this.

  Logan was behind her—close enough to feel his heat—and the familiarity of it made her falter. Probably that very familiarity was what had palled. For him. The thought of losing him… She dug deep. The time to fall apart was later. Much later. If ever. Resolutely, she faced forward and spoke, projecting her voice into the corners of the vast space.

  “I’m sorry you all came out today. There will be no wedding. I’ll see to it that your generous and thoughtful gifts are returned. Thank you.”

  A swell of whispers and a few louder voices echoed and battered her ears, and she flinched. Logan placed a hand low on her back, but the touch no longer felt supportive or possessive, two sensations that had always thrilled her. Instead, it burned her very soul, because it was a mockery—and a reminder—of what they’d had.

  She jerked away, and marched, as best as a woman swathed in the wedding dress of her dreams could march, past the altar, where her four bridesmaids waited, and the worried-looking minister. Past the groom’s family, vaguely marking the snide twist on old man Doherty’s lips and the tears on Logan’s mom’s face. Past her horrified family, sans her father, of course, her mother scrambling up to follow. Her sisters abandoned their posts beside the minister to contain their children who were squealing with delight to see her, and her brothers-in-law frowned thunderclouds of destruction toward Logan.

  “Auntie!” Little Patricia struggled in her mom’s arms, her flower girl’s finery awry. “Come see me.”

  Victoria forced a smile and a wave before hustling to the door. If Logan trailed her, she didn’t care to know, holding it together with the last of her composure. She focused straight ahead and somehow managed not to view the sea of faces lining the aisle.

  “Tori.” Her mother’s anguished tone had her slowing to let her mom catch up. Together, they walked, side by side, not at all in the way Victoria had moved with her mom toward Logan, who’d been waiting for her beside the minister, flanked by his best friends, David and Patrick, and her brothers-in-law, Robert and Michael. Was that only a few minutes ago? The recollection of that hope, the anticipation and breath-stealing euphoria sucked the life from her as they crashed and burned forever.

  “I need to get out of here. Is there a car we can use?” She discounted the limo at the curb, its tasteful ‘Just Married’ sign surrounded by more red roses and ribbon.

  “Frank’s is over there. He never locks it and hides a key. We’ll take it.”

  Bless the woman beside her, in that she didn’t pepper Victoria with questions, giving her the immediate privacy she so badly needed to get to those four wheels denoting her escape. Although where would she go that she wouldn’t take herself?

  When had she suspected the instant her future was in shambles? It had been Logan’s inscrutable—blank—face, she decided, as he took her hand from her mom’s, his fingers curling so firmly. There had been a dire warning there, belied by the warmth of his touch. Not the proud, soon-to-be-groom she expected, with appreciation and admiration—and love—written large across his gorgeous features. And then he’d escorted her into that little room, the entire church speculating. So why had she even allowed herself a smidgen of hope?

  He’d swept her off her feet from the first, tearing down her defensive walls, softening her heart, gaining her trust, making her believe she could love him with all of her soul. He was such an amazing man. She’d opened herself up to him…

  Her heart skipped a beat as the air squeezed from her lungs, and it wasn’t the tight corset impeding her breathing. How far was the damn car? When she spotted the silver sedan drawn tight against the curb, she shuddered. Stumbling the last several feet, she sprawled into the passenger seat. Her mom shut the door, after making a half-hearted attempt to shove the material of Victoria’s wedding dress inside. Her veil tugged, caught in something, and she worked it out of her hair, squishing the netting with its beautifully applied pearls into an ungainly wad of fabric.

  Her mother slipped into the driver’s seat and fumbled at the visor. A key fob dropped and a small hand, tipped with pink varnish caught it, and then rammed it into the ignition. The motor caught and with a slam of the shifter, the vehicle rolled away. Victoria let down the window and tossed out her veil, watching in the side mirror as it unfurled, catching an updraft before drifting to settle on the street. Ruined and so defenseless.

  She supposed it would get run over by countless vehicles, torn and trashed beneath unrelenting tires until it was unrecognizable. Kind of like her heart. Leaning back on the head rest, she reached up to free the remaining pins securing her fancy up-do. Her long hair tumbled down, easing the massive headache settling in to grind against her temples. She let it swing forward to screen her face.

  “What happened?” There was a limit to her mother’s patience, and it occurred that maybe people thought Victoria had derailed the wedding. He hadn’t added his voice to hers when she made the announcement, and for an instant, she clung to the idea that she could put it about that she had stopped the proceedings. But her innate honesty put a stop to that. She wasn’t going to be responsible for concocting a story.

  Maybe using some succinct words would wrap it up and give her the opportunity to practice what she’d say to everyone else who asked. “Logan told me he couldn’t go through with the marriage.”

  “Why?”

  “He didn’t say.” I couldn’t b
ear to hear his excuses, anyhow, that it was about him, not me. Because that was what he’d have come up with, had she stayed. She knew it. He might have hurt her terribly with his rejection, but the Logan she knew wouldn’t have made it about her. Except she knew the truth, and why should he have to lie? It wouldn’t have changed anything or made her feel better.

  Victoria recognized the unvarnished truth about herself despite what other people said. The trauma of early years scarred deep, and for her, obviously lasted a lifetime. She’d been stupid to believe anything Logan said. Nothing was forever, except for maybe the survivors’ bond within her family.

  The tires whirred against the uneven pavement and some country and western tune on the radio whined quietly in the background. Why couldn’t they sing about trucks and horses instead of hearts? Broken ones. With shredded souls.

  “He didn’t say. O … kay. You weren’t curious to know why?” Despite her calm tone, Victoria could hear her mother’s pain, once she’d processed the information.

  “Sorry, he wouldn’t say. But whatever. I already know. What’s the point in him skirting the issue? And … I was overwhelmed. I mean, he couldn’t have told me before? Someplace a little less public? I was right there, Mom! Right fucking there, fifteen minutes away from being married. In front of everyone, like the worst kind of movie. You’d just given me to him. G … given me.” She swallowed against nausea, pretending the loss wasn’t real. Better she found out ahead of time, right?

  “I’d like to kill him. Slowly.” Her mom was always in her corner.