Read The Night Before Christian Online
Authors: Joy Avery
The Night Before Christian
Sometimes…love is the only thing that can free you!
When Emory Chambers asked Santa for someone
to warm her cold nights, she hadn’t expected him to actually deliver. But he
does. The only problem… He delivers the wrong man. Her ex is the last person
she expects to see stroll into her floral design shop. The second their eyes
meet old feelings rush back, and their connection sparks as potent as ever. But
she has to ignore the fact that she still loves him. Especially since he’s
engaged to be married.
Christian St. Claire is a man lost. That’s
until a floral consultation for his upcoming wedding brings him face-to-face
with Emory—the only woman he’s ever truly loved. He refuses to allow himself to
fall under her spell again. But despite how hard he’s trying, he can’t shake
his feelings for the woman who shattered him. Reconnecting with Emory forces
him to question himself. Can he vow his life to another when his heart still
pounds for the one who got away?
THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTIAN
JOY AVERY
THE NIGHT BEFORE
CHRISTIAN
Copyright© 2015 by
Joy Avery
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No parts of this book
may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form
without permission, except for brief quotes used for the purpose of review or
promotion. Any trademarks, service marks, or product names are the property of
their respective owners, and are used only for reference.
THE NIGHT BEFORE
CHRISTIAN
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
the product of the author’s imaginations or used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
First eBook Edition: December
2015
Acknowledgments
My thanks—first and
foremost—to God for blessing me with this gift of storytelling.
My endless gratitude
to my husband and daughter for your unwavering support and patience. I love you
both very much!
A huge thank you to my
awesome critique partner, Lyla Dune.
To my friends and
family who’ve offered tons and tons of encouragement and support, I express my
greatest gratitude. Your support means the world to me.
To Angelia Vernon
Menchan, THANK YOU!
Clearly, the universe
couldn’t have cared less about Emory Chambers’ aversion to being late. Evident
by the fact there’d apparently been a power outage in her neighborhood, which
reset her alarm. Batteries that should have prevented this from happening were
so outdated they’d started to corrode. Then there was the little old lady she’d
gotten stuck behind, who’d obviously believed if she drove faster than twenty
miles per hour in a forty-five mile per hour zone, she’d be whisked into the
future. And as if all of that hadn’t been enough, every single traffic light on
her route turned red the second she’d approached.
Now that she thought
about it, the universe obviously had it out for her. Why? She had no idea. But
if her morning foreshadowed how her day would go, she was in deep trouble.
Maybe she should just turn around now, return home, and climb right back into
her cold, lonely, empty bed.
Yeah, right
. As
if she had the luxury of turning down a new client. God, she was so tired of
being a slave to the almighty dollar. Where was her tall, dark, handsome,
filthy rich knight in shining armor sent to whisk her away from the life of a
working woman? Actually, filthy rich wasn’t a prerequisite, but it sure
couldn’t hurt.
“Dear Santa, how about
sending Mr. Perfect-For-Me through my shop door today. I’ll owe you big time.
Plus, I’ve been a very good girl this year.” She cringed. Well, if you didn’t
count the time she slammed the door in the face of the pigtail wearing Girl
Scout cookie peddler. That had been justified. The child had tried to entice her
with Lemonades. Who could resist
Lemonades
?
Hopefully, the fact Emory
had chased pigtails down and purchased six boxes of the addictive cookies redeemed
her. She doubted Santa even answered thirty-four-year-olds, anyway. But just in
case… It couldn’t hurt to put it out there.
The sound of the car
horn blaring behind her snatched Emory back to reality. Pulling away from the
green light, she ogled her favorite coffee spot, Pour Play Coffee Bar. A huge
mug of coffee was just what she needed. Scratch that. She needed a five-gallon
bucket filled to the brim.
Strong and black
. She was about to tell Santa
it was exactly how she wanted her man, but it was Santa, which meant he already
knew that.
Ugh
. She pressed
the pedal down a little harder. Stopping would only put her further behind
schedule. When her Honda Accord backfired, spitting out a cloud of black smoke,
she was sure she’d have to hoof it the remainder of the way. Did everything in
her life have to go wrong all at once?
At least there was one
good thing about her crappy day, all of the Christmas decorations throughout
downtown Raleigh. Just the sight of wreaths hung from street lamps, garland and
lights arranged in store fronts, and the continuous Christmas music on the
radio thrilled her. Christmas had always been her favorite time of the year,
but she was having trouble getting into the holiday spirit.
Finally arriving at her
flower shop, The Bloom Bloom Room, on luck and a prayer, she parked the heap,
bolted from the vehicle, and stumbled through the backdoor. When her purse hit
the floor, the stack of overdue bills spilled out. The last thing she needed
was a reminder that she was sinking in debt.
And going down fast
. Refusing
to linger on the idea, she collected them and stuffed them back inside.
Lucas, her trusty assistant,
exited from the small office to her right. He ran his long fingers through his
dusty blonde hair. “
Crikey
! It sounded like a mob of roo were bursting
through the door. Are you okay?” he asked, his Australian accent as thick as if
he’d stepped off the plane from Sydney just yesterday.
“Rough,
rough
morning. But, hey, it’s almost Christmas. This day
has
to get better,
right?”
In true Lucas fashion,
he lifted a cream colored carnation off one of the work tables, snipped it, and
placed it behind her ear. “She’ll be right.”
Emory understood the
phrase was Australian for
it will be okay
. Call her a pessimist, because
she wasn’t sure it would be. But at least one of them held out hope. “Thank you
for calling me this morning. If you hadn’t, I’d probably still be asleep.”
“You needed the rest.”
She agreed one hundred
and ten percent. Ever since her quaint North Carolina shop was featured in
Floral Trendsetters Magazine, business had been booming. Or
blooming
as
Lucas liked to say. God, she would miss him when he left for a month-long trip
to Australia in a few days.
“On a scale of one to
ten, how annoyed is Ms. Manchester?” The hopefully tolerant bride who’d been
waiting close to a half-hour for her.
“You’re the most sought
after florist in Raleigh. She can wait.” He winked. “Go get ‘em tiger.”
Emory laughed at Lucas’
terminology. “You are the absolute best, Lucas. If you weren’t already married,
I’d propose.”
Lucas pressed a finger
into his chin and eyed the ceiling. “Let me think about this. That’s a tempting
offer.”
Emory laughed because
she knew it would take a force far more powerful than any woman possessed to
snag Lucas from his wife. She’d never witnessed a couple more in love. She’d
never known a man who cherished a woman like Lucas cherished his. Actually… she
had.
Once
.
Shaking away the memory
of her ex, Emory moved through the door and entered the large room she used for
consultations. Pasting on a two dollar smile, she said, “Ms. Manchester?”
The woman stood,
extending her arm. “Please, call me Yasmin. And thank you so much for seeing me
on such short notice.”
Yasmin was dressed in a
winter white pantsuit, makeup flawless, and not a hair out of place in the
tight bun she sported. This made Emory wish she’d put a little more effort into
her own appearance. But she’d worn the possibly-too-snug tee and jeans for
comfort, not fashion. “It’s not a problem at all. I apologize for being late.
It’s been an insane morning.”
“Trust me, I
understand.”
Yasmin smiled,
revealing the most perfect set of teeth Emory had ever seen. So perfect, in
fact, she questioned to herself whether or not they were even real.
Yasmin gracefully took
a seat. “My fiancé will be joining us any moment.”
“Wonderful.” In her
experience, not many men chose to be involved in the selection of the wedding flowers.
It would actually be refreshing having the groom present to get his input. “My
assistant will show him in when he arrives. Would you like to wait for him
before we get started?”
Yasmin checked her
watch, a Rolex studded with diamonds. “No. He’s just here for moral support. He
knows I’ll have the final say.”
That was typically how
it went. The bride dragged the groom along under the pretense that he would
have a say-so in the details. And on the off chance he’d gotten to make a
decision, by the end of the consultation, the bride would have already overridden
him. Unless, of course, it was exactly what she’d wanted from the beginning. A
well-informed groom knew to smile, nod, and supply the occasional yes.
Emory removed her
checklist and asked Yasmin a multitude of questions, in an attempt to get an
idea of what she had in mind for her special day. Did she want traditional
Christmas themed or something out of the box? Simple and elegant or over the
top lavish?
Yasmin flashed a palm.
“I really haven’t put much thought into any of this. We were just engaged three
months ago.” She flashed a ring that should have come with protective eyewear.
“Wow! That’s some ring.”
The center stone alone had to be at least five-carats. The baguettes only added
to the gaudy piece.
“My mother suggested I
hire a wedding planner. I think I will be taking her advice. Especially since I
have to fly out of the country today for a three-week-long modeling gig. I
haven’t even put a dent in my to-do list. Silly me. I’d convinced myself I
could handle it all by myself.”
It made sense that she
was a model: tall, thin, and a picture of perfection—by society’s standards—but
flying out of the country for three weeks with an impending wedding… That was
just plain ridiculous. “Yeah, you’re going to need a planner. I can give you a
referral.”
Newly engaged. A rushed
wedding. Emory’s first thought was that the woman was pregnant and wanted to
tie the knot before she started to show. Well, if nothing else, the flowers
would be breathtaking.
“Oh, a referral would
be great. My fiancé and I recently moved to North Carolina. He’s originally
from here, but I’m not. I know absolutely no one here. So, I’m looking for all
the help I can get. I would have preferred a destination wedding. Hawaii, maybe.
But our families…”
She smiled, but Emory
noted it lacked a lot of the glow she typically witnessed in her brides.
“Is it odd that I’m not
over the top elated about my wedding? I mean… I’m getting married in a few
weeks. Shouldn’t I be over the top?”
“You will be. Right
now, you’re just overwhelmed. Once everything comes together, you’ll be ecstatic.”
Emory had witnessed
brides with cold feet before, but this was something more. This was
uncertainty. Did Yasmin harbor second thoughts about getting married?
“It’s just that…” She
shook off whatever thought she’d been crafting in her head. “Yeah, I guess
you’re right.” Yasmin flailed her hands. “Anyway. Help. Please. Just make it
gorgeous.”
“That, I can definitely
do.” Emory loved when she got free reign to do whatever she liked. Within
budget, of course. And speaking of budget… “Is there a specific—?”
When three light taps
sounded behind them, Emory tossed a glance over her shoulder. Lucas stood at
the door.
“The groom is here,” he
said, stepping aside. “And I’m going to run out for a bit. I’ll be back
shortly.”
Emory nodded, but froze
a second later. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? She blinked a couple of
times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.
“I apologize for my
tardiness. I’ve had the worst day known—”
Obviously, familiarity
set in, because Yasmin’s fiancé stopped mid-thought. The room went still. Or
least it did for Emory. Her mouth went dry and her heart rapped in her chest
with such force she thought it would stop from overload. When she’d asked Santa
to send a man through her door, she hadn’t meant this one. Old Saint Nick obviously
had a sense of humor.
“—to man,” he
continued.
Clearly, he was as
stunned by her presence as she was of his. Yasmin rounded the table to greet
him with a hug and peck on the lips.
“Honey, this is floral
designer extraordinaire, Emory Chambers. Emory, this is my fiancé…
Christian St.Clair
,
Emory said along with Yasmin, but only in her head.
Yasmin’s cell phone
chimed. “Excuse me a moment.”
Yasmin stepped away,
leaving the two of them in an awkward space together. The air grew so thick,
Emory found it difficult to pull in a breath. Or it could have been the fact
that she was too stunned to process the command.
Emory had imagined what
she’d do if she ever saw her ex again. Paralysis hadn’t been one of the scenarios
crafted in her head. On the sporadic occasions her thoughts drifted to him over
the years, she’d visualized him a hundred pounds heavier, a receding hairline, a
potbelly, and missing teeth. That was so
not
the man standing in front
of her now.
Even beneath the black
wool trench coat, she could see that his body was still as solid as it’d been
the last time they’d been in the same room together. Approximately two years
ago, she noted. Suddenly, the snug shirt she wore became uncomfortably warm.
The frown stretched
across his face suggested he was far from happy to see her. Understandable.
He’d probably spent the past two years hating her. Understandable, as well.
Steadying her frayed
nerves, Emory stood, extended her hand, and said, “Nice to meet you,
Christian,” before he did something ridiculous like reveal to his wife-to-be
that they’d know one another once. Actually, they’d more than known one
another; they’d planned a life together. One that she’d shredded.
When Christian hesitantly
gripped her hand, she hoped he hadn’t noticed the tremble in it. It’d been so
long since they’d touched, but his hold on her—warm and firm—was familiar. Too
familiar. Locked onto his gaze, her stomach fluttered. Those eyes—deep, dark,
commanding—teased her now just as they’d done in the past. It was a damn good
thing Yasmin was preoccupied with her cell phone, because if she’d witnessed
their exchange, there’d be some ’plaining to do.
Emory reclaimed her
hand, Christian’s heat still present in her palm. “Shall we continue?” she
said, snatching her focus away from him.
Christian eased into
the chair directly across from her, his seething gaze threatening to send them
all up in a raging ball of fire. It wasn’t difficult to ascertain he wasn’t
overly thrilled to be there, but that was okay because she wasn’t too keen on
him being there either.
Though she’d avoided
eye contact with him, his mere presence threw her off her usually flawless
game. Words that usually flowed, she stumbled over. Phrases that normally came
second nature, she forgot. And the sweating. She perspired like she’d been
perched on a bed of burning coals.
Getting through the
remainder of the consultation proved one of the toughest challenges Emory had
ever faced. Luckily, Christian hadn’t added a great deal to the conversation,
which limited their need to address one another. But every time she dared a
glance in his direction, his eyes were steadied on her—hard and cold.
Never in her life had
she been so happy to see a couple leave as she’d been when Christian and Yasmin
departed. The entire encounter had drained her. She rested her head on the
chilly conference room table and closed her eyes. How was it possible that
Christian could still rattle her system this way?