Loved by Beauty (Harper's Mill Book 4)

  Loved by Beauty

  By Summer Donnelly

  For C, L, and S… thank you for teaching me what love is.

  S. Donnelly, High Point, NC

  © Summer Donnelly, 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement

  Chapter One

  The air was thick with adrenaline, aggression, and the sound of men smack-talking to each other for comfort and support. Too many tours did that to a man. What didn’t kill him only gave him a sick sense of humor. Wilson had taken some kind of caffeine drink and had a bad case of the jitters. Nick opened his mouth to say something. Something smart or funny or clever in response to Wilson’s jab about his divorce being final. He was sure it would be scathing or at the very least witty.

  But at the moment Nick opened his mouth, their point man Jones hit an IED and Nick learned how to fly.

  Nick Fox woke with a start, sweat pouring down his body and took in his surroundings. He was home. In Harper’s Mill. He was safe. He stood and stretched his six foot four inch frame, working out the sleep related kinks. He padded naked to his window and stared into the moonlit night. His second story bedroom put him slightly higher than anyone else on the quiet cul-de-sac. Tall enough, certainly, to see that someone had the light on in Isabelle’s old room.

  She was home for the wedding.

  His throat caught at the idea of seeing her after all these years and he ran nervous hands through his sleep-tousled chestnut brown hair and down his beard. What was he going to do?

  A honey bee bounced into the window screen, seeking escape.

  “Take a wrong turn, little guy?” he asked, before unlatching the screen and letting the small bee find his hive.

  *****

  The hot August sun beat down on Isabelle Decker and her best friend Sloane Harper, washing away the worries of the day. Heaven was in the details. Best friend. Sun warmed skin. She sighed with happiness in a cloud of coconut lotion and the dancing notes from her mom’s garden club roses. The cul-de-sac was quiet except for the soft drone from a bumble bee .

  Isabelle hated her life away from her hometown. Missed her friends and family. Even missed the village of Harper’s Mill, but there hadn’t been many job opportunities after college, so she had packed up and moved away.

  But at twenty-four she was beginning to rethink her decision. Her roommate was a slob. Her job felt more like a chore than a way to earn a living. But worst of all, she missed her friends. Her family. Her tribe.

  Isabelle sipped on a glass of white wine and stared at the house just over the tree line. Nick Fox, boy billionaire, was in residence. Oh, he wasn’t a boy anymore. But he’d inherited a small fortune when his parents died and had worked very hard to turn a small fortune into a large one.

  Harper’s Mill was a tiny village located in the Kittatinny Valley section of the Great Appalachian Valley in the northwestern corner of New Jersey but some days, especially days like this, it felt a million miles from anywhere.

  “Are you listening to me, Isabelle,” Sloane asked, tilting her sunglasses into her honey blonde hair to take a better look at her friend. She took a healthy swallow from her water bottle and reapplied a generous coating of sunscreen to her neck and shoulders. A fresh surge of coconut and pineapple released into the late summer air. “Are we making any dent in our tan lines? Leave it to Di to plan an end-of-summer wedding with strapless bridesmaid gowns.”

  “Hmm? Oh, sorry, Sloane. Guess I was woolgathering,” Isabelle replied. Her haunted blue gaze returned again to Nick’s estate, Fox Den. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what. And I thought you had some wonder product that will help even out our skin?”

  “Oh, I do. This was just an excuse to have a day to myself,” Sloane said with a giggle.

  They had all been best friends once, Isabelle thought with regret. At first, it had just been she, Diana, and her brothers, Miles and Braden. Then Nick had come to live with his uncle after the death of his parents. Then Sloane’s parents had bought the house at the center of the cul-de-sac.

  It had been good. It had been the best, really. But it was over now. Had been for a long time.

  She was back but only for her best friend’s wedding. Otherwise, she’d never consider coming face to face with her biggest regret. Her biggest failure.

  Nick Fox.

  Isabelle set down her wine and checked her own tan lines in the strapless bikini she wore. She really wasn’t built for bikinis, strapless or otherwise, but Sloane had insisted it was the only way to even out the tan lines left by her usual one piece.

  Sloane rolled her hazel eyes at her best friend for the last decade. “He won’t come out,” she said softly. “At least, not for me. Have you tried?”

  Isabelle ran her fingers through her shoulder length sandy curls. “No. Haven’t even tried. I think having him turn me away would break my heart. Again. He meant so much to me, Sloane. And yeah, I was hurt when he got married right out of boot camp, but I figured, you know, if he’s happy. You know?” Her words were garbled but the wonderful thing about friends was they listened with their heart, not their brain.

  Tears caught in Isabelle’s voice. Sloane was polite enough not to mention them.

  Sloane closed her eyes, remembering getting the news of Nick’s impending marriage. “She was a cold piece of work. She married him for the paycheck and the benefits, I’m sure. It blows my mind that she left him to deal with his injuries when he came home. Apparently, not even access to his money could convince her to stay.”

  Isabelle closed her eyes. “I don’t think that’s the only reason they got married,” she said, bitterly remembering how they had been all over each other on his first visit home to introduce his wife to his friends.

  “She was a stripper,” Sloane said, as though that explained everything. And maybe it did. She had exuded an easy sexuality which pulled men into her thrall. “And yeah, I am fairly sure even Nick knew he’d made a mistake by the time the ink was dry on the marriage certificate.”

  “But he still did it,” Isabelle pointed out.

  “For a while, but he had already filed for divorce before he left on his last deployment.”

  That was news to Isabelle.

  “And then the explosion. The injury.” Isabelle closed her eyes, remembering the way Sloane had described Nick’s injuries when he’d first come home.

  Sloane shrugged. “If it helps, I don’t think it destroyed him to lose her. It was obviously embarrassing when the tabloids got a hold of the story, but she wound up much worse in the PR battle.”

  “And she got a hefty settlement,” Isabelle said, looking down at her thighs.

  “You marry for money, you earn every penny,” Sloane predicted.

  Isabelle’s eyes returned to Fox Den, looming over her parent’s snug little bungalow.

  “I’m sure he looks much better now,” Sloane said, testing each word. “But Miss Tyler turns me away every time I go up to visit.”

  “At least he has Miss Tyler,” Isabelle said. Miss Tyler had been Nicholas Fox’s personal assistant and had transferred her allegiance to his nephew when Nick took over the family business.

  “And his work,” Sloane commented.

  “How is the Fox Holding Company doing these days?”

  “According to the New Yo
rk papers, very well. I believe the last headline was something like ‘Disfigured Heir to the Fox Fortune Eyes up Harper Industrial.’”

  “Disgusting headline,” Isabelle said.

  Sloane smiled at her. “I’m pretty sure he and Father had quite the laugh over it. He’d like Nick to take over running Harper Industrial so he and Mother can travel more.”

  “You don’t want the job?”

  Sloane shook her head. “Good grief, no,” she said. “Have you seen how hard my father works? I’m not even sure I still want to be a lawyer but I feel trapped in it. It’s what Father wanted. And he and Nick work so well together. Nick is amazing with real estate deals, even though he does everything via phone. I keep hoping one day they’ll merge companies and Nick can be a bigger player but so far, Nick has been resistant.”

  “Resistant? You mean stubborn, right?”

  Sloane shrugged and smiled. “I’ve heard he has a temper, too.”

  Isabelle snorted and turned around in order to get some color on her back. “Another half hour and we’ll head in. Di will kill us if we burn.”

  The sound of Di’s little convertible pulling into the driveway distracted them. They waved to their friend and waited for her to join them.

  “How’s work going?” Sloane asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said softly “Something seems like is missing and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I don’t hate being a bank manager. It’s a good use of my degree, but I was glad to take these two weeks off to relax and spend time with you guys.”

  “You should move back,” Sloane said. “Open the bookstore you always wanted. There’s a perfect spot on High Street available.”

  “Bookstores are so last century,” Isabelle said with a sigh.

  “Harper magic has rubbed off on you,” Sloane said, referring to the mysterious family histories lifelong residents of the town shared. “You have a gift,” she continued said, nodding her head towards a book that had simply appeared out of nowhere.

  Weird things happened in Harper’s Mill all the time.

  Isabelle dismissed the offering. The book Love to Friendship and Back Again had been appearing with alarming frequency. This was her tenth copy.

  “I can’t believe him,” Di said, joining her best friends, dark blue eyes blazing with fury. “Nick isn’t going to come to the wedding,” she wailed, thrusting an RSVP card at Isabelle. “How can I possibly get married if my childhood friends aren’t all together?”

  “Nick’s invite?” Isabelle asked, lifting her glasses to perch in her pale blonde hair.

  “Yes,” Di hissed, going into full bridezilla mode. “But he is going to absolutely mess up everything! I have an entire table of honor for my friends and he simply has to come! I’ll just die if we don’t have all of us there!”

  “Okay, calm down,” Isabelle said, standing up and pacing around her parent’s back yard. The urge to fix the situation overwhelmed her. These was her brother’s wedding to one of her best friends. How dare Nick Fox mess that up?

  “Calm down!” Di shouted. “When in the history of being angry has that phrase ever worked? On anyone? Ever? Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Isabelle Decker! My wedding to your brother is going to be ruined because of him,” Di pointed to Fox Den. Di’s blue eyes narrowed and she turned to Sloane. “This is all your fault, Sloane Harper. Everyone knows you have a magical touch. If you had only talked to him when I asked you to, he’d have come. I know it!”

  To Isabelle’s amazement, Sloane burst into tears.

  “Oh, Di, I’m so sorry. How can I ever make this up to you?”

  “I don’t think you can,” Di said, evenly. “In fact, maybe it would be best if you joined him in exile. “

  “Wait. What? You can’t mean that! Okay. Let me think,” Isabelle said, stepping between her two best friends before they came to blows. “Okay. Sloane. You said Nick is home, right?”

  Between tears, Sloane nodded. “Miss Tyler said he had a physical therapy appointment at noon today,” she said with a hiccough.

  “I will fix this. I swear.” Isabelle paced a moment before slipping into her flip flops. “Let me see if I can make this right.” She hugged Di. “Let me go talk to him, okay? Di? Please?” Isabelle shot a worried look at Sloane. “Are you two going to be okay? Seriously, no fighting. The wedding is in a week. No black eyes, okay?”

  Di sniffed and looked away from her.

  Defeated, Isabelle grabbed the large shirt she had been using as a cover up and began the hike up to Fox Den.

  As soon as she was out of earshot, Di smiled and sat down in Isabelle’s chair. Slone handed her the bottle of sunscreen and Di applied it to her arms and legs. “And Miles says my acting lessons were a waste of money.”

  Sloane snorted with laughter and handed her a bottle of water out of the cooler as they waited to see what magic Isabelle could concoct in the house on the hill.

  ~*~*~*~

  Still muttering about too small bathing suits and bridezillas, Isabelle approached the intricately designed cast iron door with some trepidation. She raised her hand to knock but changed her mind. She had been coming in and out of Fox Den since she was twelve years old. She wasn’t resorting to being a stranger now.

  Friends didn’t knock. And, by God! She was certainly not about to let Miss Tyler play bodyguard to the man who was threatening to ruin Di’s wedding to her brother Miles.

  Barging in, she found Miss Tyler coming out of one of the sitting rooms. Still holding her T-shirt, Isabelle waved the RSVP card and said, “Where is he?”

  Miss Tyler was a woman of indeterminate years with perfectly smooth alabaster skin and a short bob of white hair. Normally, Isabelle would have cut off her tongue before talking to Nick’s assistant in such a tone, but she was angry. Furious. Out for blood.

  Nick Fox’s blood.

  Miss Tyler only grinned and pointed upstairs. “Library. Second door on the left.”

  “Stupid shoes,” she muttered, cursing the ridiculous footwear that kept her from pounding up the stairs.

  She found Nick standing in the shadows of the door. “Isabelle?” he said, his voice a bit huskier than she had remembered.

  “You,” she said, standing far enough back not to be intimidated by his near-towering height. “You have some explaining to do, Nicholas Riordan Fox.”

  “Go home, Isabelle,” Nick said, reverting back to the shadows. He sat down in a plush leather chair in one corner. “I don’t have time for this.” Large hands stroked his hair and beard in obvious agitation.

  His words set a flame to Isabelle’s simmering temper. “Oh, I think you have nothing but time, Nick. And you’re going to listen to me, for once.”

  She heard him sigh in resignation and took it as a sign for her to continue. “And don’t you dare patronize me. We are all sick and tired of your behavior.”

  One chestnut brow lifted. “My behavior? And here I thought I’d been pretty good at minding my own business these last few years.”

  Seeing red, Isabelle threw her T-shirt at him, hoping to knock some sense into him. “Oh, is that what you’ve been doing up here, turning into the Hermit of Harper’s Mill?”

  She marched up to him so she could use the full power of her glare. “You made Di and Sloane cry,” she accused.

  Nicholas Riordan Fox had been through a lot in his twenty-seven years. The death of his parents. Coming to live with his Uncle Nicholas when he was fifteen. Years of adventures living next door to a certain spitfire with china blue eyes and beautiful blonde curls. Four deployments to the Sandbox. A marriage and relatively simple divorce. The destruction of most of the left side of his body and the ensuing agony of repeated surgeries, healing, and physical therapy.

  But nothing had ever prepared him for the short, curvy blonde in a bikini assaulting him with his own clothing. Nothing could have prepared him for the billowing cloud of coconut oil and deliciously sun-warmed woman. Nothing had ever prepared him for his Belle.

  “My
shirt,” he said, dumbly, looking at the Marine green shirt.

  “That’s all you can say?” Isabelle’s voice rose and for a moment, Nick was sure she was going to bust out of the barely-there bathing suit she was wearing. The gentleman part of his brain knew she should be covered.

  But the hungry male part wanted to see every delectable curve.

  “What would you like me to say?” Resignation wore at him. Of all his friends, her opinion had always mattered the most to him. She and Sloane were his first real friends and he missed them. Terribly.

  Nick watched, fascinated, as Isabelle almost shook with anger. “I want you to accept the invite to Miles’ and Di’s wedding. I want you to be you again. I want you to be my friend, again.”

  “If I attended the wedding, the day would become about me and my injuries. People will stare. I didn’t want to do that to Di and Miles.” Involuntarily his hand reached out to play with one of Isabelle’s stray curls. That had been his curl when they’d been younger. Memory and pain assaulted him with equal measure. “And I had hoped I would always be your friend, Isabelle. Forever.”

  Anger left in a giant vacuum to be replaced with overwhelming sadness. “I thought we’d be friends forever, too, Nick.” She wasn’t going to cry. Nope, nope, nope. She’d shed gallons of tears over this man. No more.

  Nick sighed and gave Isabelle his old Marine Corp T-shirt. “Put this on. You look cold.”

  Isabelle gripped the shirt for a long moment before jamming her arms through the arm holes and putting it on. All while glaring at him.

  Something hit Nick – something strong and visceral – as he watched her cover herself in a shirt that he had once worn. Possession? Ownership? Whatever it was, he had the overwhelming desire to kiss Isabelle. Claim her as his. Make sure no one else ever looked at her nearly naked body. He shook it off. If there was ever a time for that, this was not it.

  “I want you to rejoin the living,” Isabelle said, curling up in the twin to his chair and tucking her feet under her. Nick squirmed, realizing she was on his left side. He fought the urge to retreat further into the shadows in order to salvage his pride. As it was, she had to have seen some of his marred features.