Still looking at their daughter, Andrew murmured, “She’s a lucky little girl to have so many people who love her.”
Hannah glanced up at him. “She’s not the only lucky one.”
Andrew grinned and brushed a kiss over her mouth, heedless of anyone who might see the show of affection. “No,” he agreed, “she’s not.”
Sighing lightly, Hannah rested her head against his shoulder and beamed at the family milling through the room. She had never been this happy, she realized. Marrying Andrew had been the wisest decision she had ever made—for all the right reasons.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Her New Year’s Fortune by Allison Leigh
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Chapter One
New Year’s Eve. A night of mystery.
Just like she was mysterious. Beautiful. Exotic. And definitely mysterious.
Dark, auburn hair spilled in waves down her back, kissing the golden spine revealed by the cut-down-to-there black cocktail dress that clung to her lithe figure. Her companion’s dark blue gaze was focused intently on her face...dropping to her lips as she took a small sip of her martini. Slightly dirty, just the way she’d ordered. She lowered the cocktail and leaned a little closer to him, feeling more than slightly naughty. Beneath the table, she slipped her foot out of her sinfully high black heels and subtly slid her toes along his ankle...
“Excuse me, miss. Miss? Miss?”
The fantasy spinning inside Sarah-Jane Early’s head popped like a bubble of spent soap and she focused on the tuxedo-clad man standing in front of the hostess station she was manning at Red, looking none too patient. She was there not to daydream, but to help see to the needs of every guest of the wedding reception that had commandeered the popular Mexican restaurant for the night, and she quickly smiled. “Yes, sir, how can I help you?”
The man tugged at his skewed bow tie, casting a glance off to one side. “How do I get to the Red Rock Inn?” His question was hurried, and muttered half under his breath. She could have told him he needn’t have bothered trying to be so quiet. For the past three hours, the music from the reception had made conversations nearly impossible. She leaned a little closer to give him the directions to the hotel. He nodded, and took time to thank her before moving away to hold out his hand to the woman he’d obviously been waiting for.
In seconds, they were hurrying out the front door of the restaurant, the man’s arm wrapped possessively around the woman’s hips. It was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that the couple couldn’t wait to be alone.
She knew there was no point in envying a couple in love...or even a couple in lust, or she’d be spending her life in a constant state of envy. Still, Sarah-Jane sighed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Fantasizing about wearing killer heels was one thing. Actually doing it was another. She wished she’d have just worn a pair of shoes from her own closet. She had a pair of black pumps. Admittedly they were nearly ten years old, purchased by her mother who had insisted that Sarah-Jane needed to wear the modestly-heeled things for her high school graduation. But they were leather and having been worn only a few times since, were still in good condition.
She glanced down at the shoes she was currently wearing. If she were honest, the only thing in common these shoes had with the old ones in her closet were that they were black. She twisted one foot this way and that, and sighed ag
ain, a little wistfully. The shoes that Maria Mendoza had insisted she wear were beautiful. The velvety suede was as black as midnight and certainly suited the clinging black cocktail dress she was wearing better than her sensible old pumps.
Just thinking about the dress had Sarah-Jane’s fingertips twitching at the hem of it, as if she could eke out another few inches of cloth where there was none. The hem of the dress stayed midway down her thighs, where it had been since she’d donned the garment earlier that day. She couldn’t do anything about the hem anymore than she could do something about the diagonally-slashed cutout neckline that exposed much more of Sarah-Jane’s cleavage than she liked. If she weren’t positively devoted to Maria, who not only owned the restaurant along with her husband but also owned the knitting shop where Sarah-Jane really worked as an assistant manager, there’s no way she’d have worn something so unsuitable out in public. She was a lot more comfortable in the pullover shirts and khaki pants that she wore at The Stocking Stitch. She wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but at least she didn’t have to worry that people might think she believed she could carry off such a look.
Her gaze drifted from the empty lobby area of the restaurant back toward the bar where many of the wedding guests had migrated. Most of the wedding party remained, though Emily Fortune and her brand-new husband, Max Allen, had already departed. As had many of the older guests, leaving the younger crowd to stay on and party into the night.