Chapter 3
Thanksgiving Day, Lawson’s Landing, Texas
“You look gorgeous,” Suzette said, giving her daughter a once-over and smoothing an invisible wrinkle in Essie’s gown.
It was a simple, long-sleeved A-line of silk, the skirt flowing in a soft sweep behind her.
The true beauty of it lay in the graceful drape of the neckline — modest in front, falling in a deep cowl at the back.
Instead of a veil, a single strand of crystals circled her head like starlight caught in her dark hair.
A tremulous smile tugged at her daughter’s lips. “Thank you.”
Suzette’s heart ached with a mix of love and loss. Standing beside her, their reflections caught side by side in the mirror. Mother and daughter, past and future.
“I wish Dad was here,” Essie whispered.
Suzette’s throat closed. “He is, my love. Here.” She pressed her hand to Essie’s chest, fighting the sting in her eyes. Braam would’ve loved this moment — to see their daughter radiant and whole, to know she’d found her family and made peace with her past.
“It’s not the same.” Essie dropped her head for a moment before lifting her gaze again.
“When Adam and I married … I’m the one who insisted on the registry office wedding, not Adam.
I couldn’t do the whole church and walking down the aisle thing without Dad.
When Max asked me what type of wedding I wanted, I didn’t think twice.
But now …” She trailed off, exhaling softly.
Moving closer, Suzette traced a finger across her daughter’s forehead and down her cheek.
“Braam would’ve been so happy for you, my love.
And when we walk down that path today toward the man who loves you so very much, Braam will be right there with us in spirit.
” She smiled gently. “And most likely leading the angels in some heavenly song to urge you along.”
Essie gave a thready laugh. “You’re right.”
Suzette reached for the bouquet of sweet peas and handed it over, the delicate scent rising between them as she crooked her elbow. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
Together, they descended the staircase, the hush of silk against wood filling the stillness.
In the wide hallway, Essie paused before the family photo gallery.
Suzette’s heart stuttered when her gaze landed on the adoption-day photo — her and Braam flanking a small, dark-haired girl who hadn’t yet believed she was theirs.
Essie had always said it was her most treasured memory, the moment she finally belonged to someone.
Suzette’s gaze studied the other pictures. The Lawson family. The life Essie had found here. Her throat tightened. Now her daughter truly belonged.
The family had opened their home and hearts to her, too.
But truthfully, where did that leave her?
You did your job, she reminded herself. You protected the little child when no one else could. You gave her a home. A new life.
Minutes later, they entered the marquee and walked down the petal-strewn path to where Max waited beneath the white canopy, his baby daughter nestled safely in his arm.
And then Suzette’s gaze shifted. To the man standing beside him.
Justin.
No.
JK Kenzie.
Unreachable.
The man who had lived in her imagination.
He had been a comfort in her darkest moments, the timbre of his voice soothing when the tears flowed.
He’d made her laugh with his ridiculous one-liners, made her gasp when he leapt from moving vehicles or off cliffs, and made her swoon when that heart-melting smile filled the screen.
He’d even kept her company during her private moments of self-care; a familiar presence when the loneliness pressed in.
Only, he wasn’t the man in her imagination anymore. He was flesh and blood, standing a short distance away, dressed in a bespoke navy suit and open-necked white shirt, more compelling, more intoxicating, more dangerous to her senses than she’d ever imagined.
But it was still a dream.
Because why on earth would a man like JK Kenzie, a superstar adored by millions, give her, an ordinary woman long past the age of fairy-tale romances, from a small South African fishing village, so much as a second look?
Yes, on the flight he’d paid her special attention.
They had shared several intense moments.
Gracious, he had even soothed her when tears overwhelmed her.
But perhaps he’d only done so out of courtesy.
She and Miem had been his guests, after all, flying on his jet.
She understood how it worked — she’d built her whole life around making her guests feel special.
Yet, as the vows were spoken, Suzette couldn’t stop herself from glancing his way. And every time she did, she found his gaze already waiting for hers — steady, intent, and far too knowing.
Her pulse fluttered. Don’t be a foolish old woman, she told herself sternly, forcing her attention back to her daughter. Men like him don’t look twice at women like you.
*
“Dance with me, Suzette.”
He was dying to hold her in his arms. Ever since that moment of shared intimacy in the middle of the night, the ache to have her close had only grown sharper, invading his thoughts, haunting his sleep, even distracting him from business in LA.
He’d caught himself checking his watch too often, counting down the hours until he could see her again.
And now he only had tonight. Tomorrow, he’ll be back in the studio.
Seeing her earlier, walking down the aisle beside Esther, her chin lifted, her eyes bright with pride, had undone him completely. Something had shifted in that instant, deep and irrevocable.
It wasn’t just desire anymore.
It was a fierce, unfamiliar yearning to be part of her world — to stand beside her, not as the man on the screen, but as a man who belonged.
It was the wanting of forever.
With her.
And maybe, just maybe, he had imagined her walking down the aisle … to him.
But first — he had to get her to dance with him.
He noted her hesitation, the quick flick of her gaze toward the people around them. Always composed, always aware of what others might think.
So he put on his best smile, the one that melted interviewers and co-stars alike. “The best man always dances with the maid of honor.”
She scowled, a spark of humor lighting her eyes. “Not fair.”
No, not fair at all. Not when every nerve in his body was tuned to her — the woman who’d become far too important for his peace of mind.
His heart stuttered when she placed her hand in his and stood. An effervescent rush flooded his bloodstream, wreaking havoc on his senses. What the hell? He was almost sixty yet reacted like a teenager about to experience his first kiss.
He drew her onto the dance floor, the music low and lilting, the soft hum of conversation fading around them. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, her other still enclosed in his. The warmth of her palm, the faint scent of magnolia’s clinging to her skin … heaven.
For a few moments they moved in silence, letting the rhythm guide them. The night wrapped around them, soft and golden, the hum of laughter and clinking glasses fading to a blur.
Then, more to ground himself than anything else, he said quietly, “I wanted to ask … how are the Lawsons treating you?”
“Better than I expected,” she replied. A small smile touched her lips. “And as your body’s still in one piece, I’m guessing Cecelia’s husband didn’t harm you after all.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “Fortunately, death stares aren’t fatal.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment neither looked away. The world seemed to narrow to the space between them — the sweep of her breath, the brush of her gown against his trousers, the steady thrum of a song that suddenly felt written just for them.
What are you doing, old man? he warned himself, tightening his hold just slightly.
But she didn’t pull back. If anything, she leaned closer, so faintly it could’ve been imagined. Except it wasn’t. He felt it. The answering pull, as inevitable as gravity.
And that was all the invitation he needed to forget, for one dangerous heartbeat, where the dance ended and forever might begin.
Before he could stop himself, the words were out, raw and unfiltered. “Spend the night with me.”
*
For the briefest moment, she wondered if she’d misheard him.
Spend the night with me.
The words pulsed through her like a current, dizzying and dangerous.
Her first instinct was to step back, to laugh it off, to pretend he hadn’t said what every part of her had secretly longed to hear. Because what would people say? There were eyes everywhere. The Lawsons. Esther. Miem. O Lordy, Miem would have a field day.
And he was JK Kenzie for heaven’s sake.
But then another voice whispered … why not?
It was a fantasy come true, a once-in-a-lifetime moment that most women could only ever imagine. A story to treasure on lonely nights back home, when the silence pressed too close and the memories were all she had for company.
Like one of those clichéd sayings — with a little Suzette twist, of course: what happens in Texas stays in Texas.
Maybe it was time she lived a little.
Time to remember what it felt like to be a woman.
To be wanted.
And somehow, unbelievably, JK Kenzie wanted her.
Her pulse fluttered as she met his gaze again, heat simmering between them like something forbidden yet beautifully inevitable.
Take the leap. Live it up, Suzette. Just this once.
The corners of her mouth curved into the faintest smile. “Okay.”
He blinked, his steps faltering, eyes widening in stunned disbelief. For a man so smooth on camera, he suddenly looked completely disarmed. His jaw slackened, his mouth opening and closing once, speechless.
Suzette arched a brow, amusement tugging at her lips. “Shocked you, did I, mister movie star?”
The smile that broke across his face was one she had never seen before. Not in any of his movies. Unguarded and genuine, almost boyish. It softened the lines at his eyes and made something in her chest go wonderfully, dangerously warm.
“Only in the most delightful way,” he said.
She leaned back slightly, a feeling of giddiness bursting from her belly. “So, how does this work? You throw me over your shoulder and haul me off like a prize won? Or do I sneak out at midnight and meet you on your jet?”
His laugh came from deep in his chest. Rich, full-bodied, and impossible to ignore. It rolled through her like music, warm and unrestrained.
“You’re a breath of fresh air, Suzette Bosch.”
And just like that, she felt it again — that dizzy, fluttering awareness, the heady mix of danger and delight. Only this time, it settled deeper, somewhere near her heart. Maybe it wasn’t just infatuation. Maybe, just maybe, she was in far deeper trouble than she’d ever meant to be.
But right here, right now, she didn’t give a damn.
She had the rest of her life to piece back her broken heart.