The Demise (31 page)

“Brilliant!” he’d said.

She’d addressed a new envelope and given it a fresh seal. Jim returned it to the yacht’s safe along with the red duffel bag. Later, he watched as Matt went through the contents of the bag. When the young agent refused to break the seal on the will, Jim had to suppress his smile.

Like taking candy from a baby.

Then, as Braxton’s biggest drama unfolded, Donella and Jim simply sat back and watched it play out. They hadn’t expected Smithe to fire her, of course. That night, while nursing her bruised ego with one too many margaritas, she’d come dangerously close to spilling the beans when Julie stopped by. But even later, when Matt Bryson joined them, she’d carefully concealed her long relationship with Jim and the secret plan they’d put in motion.

That same night, long after Julie and Matt had left, Jim stopped by to pick up the broken pieces of her heart. “I’ve waited all these years,” he’d said, kneeling beside her. “You’re free now, Donella. Peter’s gone, and you’re finally
free
. Marry me, and make me the happiest man in the world. Let me take care of you for the rest of your life.”

They’d married in a small chapel on their way to the airport.

Now, as the music played on under the Tuscan sky, Donella took a deep breath and relaxed, laying her head on her husband’s shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her cheek.

“We’re together now, happily in love as husband and wife. We’re wealthy. What more could you ask for?”

“Not a thing, Jim. Not a thing.”

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For your reading pleasure, we’ve included the prologue and first chapter of the best-selling novel,
The Runaway Pastor’s Wife
afte
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Acknowledgments

To my readers . . . and to all those who take the time to write me, share my books in their book clubs, and keep asking for more. Thank you for joining me on these journeys and making my work so much fun!

A thousand thanks to my stellar team of proofreaders: Sally Wilson, Cyndi Hollman, and Glenn Hale. A thousand more to Bev Harrison, my editor extraordinaire and favorite Aussie. I could never do what I do without your combined efforts to clean up my messy manuscripts. Thanks for always making my literary babies shine.

With a heart overflowing with love and gratitude, I give thanks to God for allowing me to pursue my passion; and to see my dreams come true in Your perfect timing. I’m forever astounded by Your unconditional love, forever humbled by the gift of Your Son, Jesus Christ, and forever blessed by Your presence in my life.

About the Author

Born in Texas and raised in Oklahoma, Diane Hale Moody is a graduate of Oklahoma State University. She lives with her husband Ken in the rolling hills just outside of Nashville. They are the proud parents of two grown and extraordinary children, Hannah and Ben.

Just after moving to Tennessee in 1999, Diane felt the tug of a long-neglected passion to write again. Since then, she’s written a column for her local newspaper, feature articles for various magazines and curriculum, and several novels with a dozen more stories eagerly vying for her attention.

When she’s not reading or writing, Diane enjoys an eclectic taste in music and movies, great coffee, the company of good friends, and the adoration of a peculiar little pooch named Darby.

Visit Diane's website at
www.dianemoody.net
and her blog, “just sayin’” at
www.dianemoody.blogspot.com

DIANE MOODY

Prologue

Stillwater, Oklahoma 

Seventeen years ago

“I don’t have a clue.”

“He’s your best friend—what do you mean you don’t have a clue?”

“Correction.
You
are my best friend.” Michael Dean leaned across the plaid-covered table to plant a pizza kiss on his girlfriend’s lips.

“Michael!” Annie Franklin snatched a napkin to wipe her mouth.

“What?”

“Look at this,” she flipped the napkin smeared with pizza sauce. “You can sweet talk me any day, but lose the grease first, okay?”

He watched his girlfriend, enjoying her reprimand. He drank in the sight of her long brown hair, curled and shining even in the dim candlelight of their favorite pizza dive. Her sparkling eyes, a rich shade of deep sable, danced as if hiding some delicious secret—eyes that never failed to mesmerize him.

And her smile . . . he could lose himself in that smile. Any time, any day. He reached for another slice of pizza, folded it in half, and took a huge bite. “You’re beautiful when you get mad,” he mumbled. “Did you know that?” He locked gazes with her as she finished wiping her mouth.

A reluctant smile spread across her face. “Stop changing the subject. Why is Grady so upset?”

He knew Annie wasn’t afraid to plow through his evasiveness. After three and a half years together, she knew his every nuance. He could hide nothing from her. Inseparable since meeting the first week of their freshman year at Oklahoma State University, he enjoyed the honesty and openness between them—a trait he knew she cherished. And while they didn’t always agree on every subject, there was nothing they wouldn’t or couldn’t discuss.

He took a long gulp from his frosted glass of root beer and wiped the foam off his mouth with the back of his hand. “He’s ticked off at Coach for benching him the last five games. Can’t say as I blame him.”

“Me neither. You’d be climbing the dugout walls if it was you.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow.
“No kidding. I mean, think about it, Annie—it’s our senior year. This is
it
. The stands are crawling with scouts, and there’s Grady—parked on his keister.
Look, I feel for him, but what am I supposed to do?”

Annie pushed her plate aside.
“I’m sure it doesn’t help that those same scouts are swarming all over
you
.” She reached for his hand.

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Can I help it if I’m incredibly awesome?”

“Not to mention arrogant, cocky—” She pulled her hand back, grabbing a napkin to wipe off his pizza lip print.

“Seriously, I’m sorry it’s happened to him, but at this point I can’t carry him anymore.” Michael leaned back in the booth. “The stakes are too high. If I’m gonna go in the first or second round of the draft, I’ve got to concentrate on my own game. Grady’s got to look out for himself.”

“I know, but I hate to see him so depressed. Grady’s like family to us. We can’t just let him suffer. I wish there was—”

Wham!

A pile of textbooks slammed onto their table. “Hi guys! Oooh . . . pepperoni! My favorite! Scoot over, Annie.” The spirited blonde plopped down in the booth next to Annie, making herself at home. “Hey Brandon?” she yelled over her shoulder. “Bring me a plate and a Diet Coke, okay?” The waiter nodded his reply as she reached for a slice of pizza. “So what’s going on?”

“Christine, nice of you to join us,” Michael laughed. “Please—don’t be shy. Have some pizza.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she answered, missing his sarcasm. “Michael, what’d you get on that Business Finance exam?” She popped a piece of pepperoni into her mouth. “That one ate my lunch. I’ll be lucky if I even passed it.”

“I doubt that.” He winked at Annie. “But I don’t know what I got on it. I was out of town for a game and haven’t checked the grade postings yet.”  He took another drink, watching his two favorite girls. Best friends since middle school, Annie and Christine Benson were as different as day and night but closer than sisters. Their friendship was something to behold. A genuine work of art.

“Whatever. Hey, Annie? Can I borrow your black dress?” Christine took a sip from Annie’s glass. “I have a date tonight.”

“The last time you wore it you got salsa on it and didn’t bother to have it cleaned. Tell me one good reason I should loan it to you again.”

“Because I’m your best friend? Because I know all your juicy little secrets?”

“You’re reaching, girlfriend.”

“Because my date has two extra tickets to see James Taylor next week?”

Michael slapped his open palms on the table. “Loan her the dress! Just make sure she hands over the tickets first. All
right,
Tumbleweed!” He stretched across the table to give Christine a playful kiss on the cheek.

“Stop it!” She pulled away. “You know I hate that stupid name. Grady says it all the time, and it annoys me to death.”

He ignored her as usual. “Hey, Annie. You ’n me and James Taylor. How about it?” His eyebrows danced as he crooned the opening lyrics of
Something in the Way She Moves.

“Sing it, sweet baby James,” Annie swooned.

Michael continued, his pitch perfect as he sang the familiar, romantic words of the song they’d long ago dubbed “their” song.

“That’s real nice, but what’s the big deal?” Christine complained. “I was kind of disappointed Seth had these tickets. I’d rather see Springsteen. Or Michael Jackson. James Taylor is just too, I don’t know,
sedate
for me.”

Michael’s serenade continued, the lyrics echoing in his glass when he took a sip of root beer. He wiped his mouth again. “Because James Taylor is a classic. He’s the hands-down, all-time best singer-songwriter there is. You should feel blessed—your date has excellent taste in music. Just like us. We like the real deal, the main man, the true blue, Sweet Baby James. Don’t we, Annie?” He reached for her hand across the table.

“We do, that we do.” She smiled back at him with a wink. “Christine, the dress is yours. But this time, don’t bring it back until you get it dry cleaned, got it? Tickets or no tickets.”

“Sure. Whatever,” Christine dismissed. “But while we’re at it, there are more important things to discuss here. Like shoes. I need your black stilettos to go with the dress.”

“Yes, Annie. She simply MUST have those stilettos.” Michael batted his eyes, swishing his dangling wrist across the table. “Though personally, I’d prefer the strappy rhinestone sandals. But that’s just me.”

Annie flicked a packet of sugar, hitting him square on the nose. “Enough! I don’t wear your cleats, sweet thing, so you stay away from my shoes. Got it?”

She gazed across the table at Michael who was still laughing at his own joke. He rolled his head back, then finally caught his breath and leveled his eyes back toward her.

And there it was. That lopsided, boy-next-door grin that melted her every time. How could a smile say so much? As if every emotion in his body was expressed in that one simple gesture. Dimples as deep as the Grand Canyon set in a golden tan. Perfect white teeth. The sun-kissed highlights in his shaggy brown hair, still wet from his after-practice shower. Annie sighed, taking it all in. She rested her chin on her hand and lost herself in his warm brown eyes.

Oblivious to Christine or the other patrons of Hideaway Pizza, Annie felt a surge wash over her like she’d never known before. In that single moment, she knew without a shadow of doubt, she would spend the rest of her life with this man who meant more to her than life itself.

I love you,
she mouthed silently.

He winked again.
I love you more.