Mending Hearts With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 6) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  nineteen

  twenty

  twenty-one

  twenty-two

  epilogue

  acknowledgments

  about the author

  Dear Reader,

  Sneak peek of Waking Lucy

  One

  Other Books By Lorin Grace

  American Homespun Series

  Waking Lucy

  Remembering Anna

  Reforming Elizabeth

  Healing Sarah

  Artists & Billionaires

  Mending Fences

  Mending Christmas

  Mending Walls

  Mending Images

  Mending Words

  Join Lorin Grace’s Readers Club Newsletter,

  Receive a copy of Remembering Anna; An American Homespun Novella delivered to your in box for free!

  Get your copy now.

  Copyright

  Cover Design © 2018 LJP Creative

  Photos © iStock, Deposit Photos

  Formatting by LJP Creative

  Edits by Eschler Editing

  Published by Currant Creek Press

  North Logan, Utah

  Mending Hearts with the Billionaire © 2018 by Lorin Grace

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, locations, events and dialogue in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously.

  First edition: December 2018

  For Sally

  dumb luck club forever.

  one

  Wispy clouds floated past the plane—or was the plane speeding past the clouds? Either way, they had Candace reminiscing.

  Her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, Candace slowed her step as she realized she didn’t belong here anymore. Having made the choice to leave all that remained, she was to notify the dean of the College of Art. He had been patient long enough, as the answer had been due by the end of June. Now, two days late, she couldn’t help but hope the dean had already left for the Independence Day break.

  Light spilled from the office at the end of the hall. Her favorite professor was either in the building or had forgotten to lock up again. Candace peeked in as she passed. Dr. Christensen stood in front of an empty canvas, hands on hips. Delaying the inevitable, Candace knocked on the door.

  “Come in, Candace. You’re just in time to help me solve a dilemma. I’d planned on a blue underpainting, but the canvas keeps telling me sepia.”

  Candace took a piece of paper from the professor’s desk and held it up to the canvas. “Your canvas isn’t pure white.”

  “That is the problem. Thank you. Let me guess. You are here to officially tell the dean you won’t be with us this fall.”

  “How did you know?”

  Dr. Christensen pulled out a stool and indicated for Candace to sit. “You have been my student for eight years now. If you would ever turn in your signed forms, you would have a master of art in painting and another in art history, and I suspect enough extra credits and projects for a third in illustration. I’ve watched you teach freshman-level classes on and off for the last four years. You don’t enjoy it. So even if you want the job, I’ll protest.”

  Candace opened her mouth to protest, but Dr. Christensen held up his hand. “I am not sure what life holds for you around the next corner. That is the marvelous thing about corners—the not being able to see around them. Now, I have two suggestions for you: turn in the paperwork to get your double masters and turn that corner.”

  Studying the landscape below her, she wondered when Indiana became Ohio. For almost two months, she’d replayed the conversation in her mind. The problem was that she felt like the blonde from the old four-way stoplight joke. Gas, brake, gas, brake unable to move forward as long as the light kept flashing. She couldn’t even figure out which blinker to turn on. Yet somehow while she remained stuck, the world kept moving around her. Cruising at six hundred miles an hour at thirty thousand above the earth in Preston Harmon’s private jet, it was more apparent than ever that everyone knew where they were going—except her.

  A tiny wail took Candace’s attention from the window to the seats behind her, where Mandy and Daniel sat with two-month-old Joy. It probably wasn’t good to have a favorite roommate, but Mandy and Candace had felt an immediate connection that deepened with time and late nights over ice cream, where Candace had shared her deepest secrets.

  But for her friend, life had moved on. Mandy had not only turned her corner when she married her childhood friend but had now entered a whole new world of diapers, blankets, and nursing-friendly tops. Out of habit, Candace stomped down the phantom desires before they led her down roads with dead-end signs. She watched as Daniel helped Mandy up and they moved to the privacy of the bedroom at the back of the plane so Mandy could feed Joy.

  Example number two sat in front of her. Abbie Hastings Harmon craned her neck to track Mandy’s progress to the back of the plane. Letting go of being Mandy’s bodyguard wasn’t easy for her, but Abbie had turned a corner too when she married Preston, finding new ways to use her talent at photography in her new husband’s publishing empire. Candace suspected Abbie gave her own bodyguards fits and eventually had the best-trained security detail in the business. Becoming the one who was guarded hadn’t stopped Abbie from being ultra-aware of her surroundings or having at least one gun concealed on her person. Preston whispered something in Abbie’s ear that led to a kiss.

  Candace returned her attention to the window. The reflection of her cousin Zoe studying a New York City guidebook reminded Candace that even Zoe was moving on. When Candace had decided not to accept the teaching job at the university, Zoe was still going to be her roommate for at least another semester. Her home, dubbed the Art House, wasn’t going to be full, but she wouldn’t be alone. Then, last week, Zoe had accepted a last-minute internship at the prestigious Scott & Ricks firm, leaving Candace roommate-less. The thought of having three empty bedrooms in Art House was almost as daunting as trying to fill them with students that seemed younger each semester.

  Which brought her full circle to that corner where she needed to turn her life in a new direction.

  Third wheel. Over the last year-and-a-half, a vague sense that he had become one filled Colin. The fact that third wheels could be extremely useful, such as in landing an airplane, helped him keep some balance. Traveling to a wedding with his best friend, who was now a father, intensified that feeling. He knew the bride as well as he knew any of Candace’s roommates, and he’d met the groom a couple times. Unlike some of the women on the private flight, he didn’t have to be a part of the wedding itself. He had debated about skipping it entirely, but two things had drawn him out of his computer-filled office—the opportunity to catch up with Nick Gooding, one of his few remaini
ng single friends, and Candace.

  She sat across the aisle from him. The private jet contained more than enough seats, so only the married couples and bodyguards sat together. If he had been brave enough, he would have taken the seat next to her when they’d boarded.

  Colin had read on some online blog that weddings made women think about more weddings, particularly their own. In the past year, Candace had been maid of honor at Mandy and Daniel’s wedding, where he had been best man; a bridesmaid at Araceli and Kyle’s wedding, which he hadn’t attended; a bridesmaid at Abbie’s wedding, which he had participated in on very short notice; and on Friday she would be maid of honor at Tessa and Sean’s Labor Day weekend wedding. So far she had caught the bouquet at every wedding. Although Abbie had just handed Candace hers as she’d run from the ballroom. He wasn’t sure that counted. Statistically, Candace had to be thinking about marriage by now, even if she showed no outward signs.

  If only he could get her to think of him when it came to marriage. Other than dancing, she had kept him literally at arm’s length for all the 508 days of their acquaintance.

  They had met online a year and a half ago, Daniel had been desperate to protect Mandy from the vipers unleashed by the paparazzi after their first date and had enlisted Colin’s computer skills to set up firewalls and monitor threats. Even with Daniel’s description of Mandy’s unorthodox roommate, Colin had been unprepared for their first video conference. Daniel had only mentioned Candace’s hair, not her eyes. Blue didn’t do the color justice. Sometimes darker, sometimes lighter, that first day they were the deep blue of one of his favorite computer-brand logos. He suspected the shade changed with her mood, but he needed more research to be sure.

  He took heart in the fact that she’d dumped or been dumped by a law student over a year ago and hadn’t had another boyfriend since. And rarely did more than thirty-one hours and ten minutes go by without a text or video call with her. Although things hadn’t been the same for the last couple months, Candace, who always had a plan and always knew her next gig, seemed like she was lost, and she wouldn’t say why. Something had changed the day she got her last wig—the one to celebrate another year of being cancer free. He’d seen the change in her eyes. Mandy told him he was imagining things, but he wasn’t. Colin was sure he wasn’t imagining anything. For the past forty-two days, Candace’s eyes had been a dull gray blue.

  Gathering his courage, he moved to the leather seat facing her. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  She raised one of her painted brows. “Do you even have a penny?”

  “I can transfer it via two or three different apps.”

  “But I don’t need a penny.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Chocolate?”

  “I can do chocolate.” He pulled up a shopping app. “It will be waiting at the Blue Pines Inn’s front desk.”

  “Caramels and cherries?”

  “Of course. And they are hand dipped in Blue Pines.”

  The first hint of a real smile flashed across her face.

  “So how many of your thoughts does that get?”

  Candace patted the seat next to her. “Probably not as much as it should. I was thinking about what Dr. Christensen told me about turning a corner. I just don’t know where to go.”

  “What options do you have?”

  “Far too many. But almost all of them mean I need to leave Art House. I have had so few commissions lately. Most of the jobs I’ve seen are murals. I just finished a children’s book illustration project, but I’ll be honest—the author drove me bonkers. She kept changing her mind. Part of my problem is I have not focused on one specialty. Now I have no roommates and no direction.”

  “Rethinking your choice not to continue at the school?”

  “No. I even got my degrees in the mail the other day. They knew I wouldn’t show up at the graduation.”

  “I don’t understand why you would choose to skip graduation. Two master’s degrees is something to celebrate.”

  Candace looked out the window before answering. “It was never in my plan to get a master’s. I’m not sure what to do with one, let alone two of them.”

  “Plans can change.”

  “They aren’t supposed to.”

  Colin studied his friend. “Mine change all the time. It is like this app I am working on to recognize doctored pictures. I’d planned on using a certain protocol, but when I got to testing it, I discovered it was inadequate for my needs. So I changed my plan.”

  “Not really. You are still making the app. Isn’t that the one you are making because of the Abbie head-swap mess? The TV stations should have been able to tell that the photo had been manipulated to put her head on the woman wearing the negligee.”

  He waggled his finger at her. “No changing the subject. And yes, it is the app to help people identify faked online photos so they don’t pass them along. But it isn’t like I had this in my five-year plan or even my New Year’s resolution. I didn’t even have it planned four months ago because I didn’t see the need. I had another app planned, but the newest version of a competitor’s app does more than mine ever would, so I dumped it. See? Plans change.”

  “Yes, but your master plan hasn’t changed. You are programming computers, leaving most of the business end of your life to Daniel and your lawyers.”

  “That is true. So, what isn’t going according to your plan?”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t have one anymore. I got to the end of my ten-year plan and was not where I assumed I would be.”

  “What about your twenty-year plan?”

  “I didn’t think I’d need one.”

  “Why not?”

  Candace didn’t answer. She twirled one of the green tendrils of her wig around her finger. She’d purchased the wig to celebrate another year of remission. Just as if he were looking at a bug in the middle of a long line of code, sudden understanding filled him.

  “You didn’t think you would live to see the end of your ten-year plan, did you?”

  Candace shook her head and turned to retreat into the window view again. Colin didn’t let her. He pulled her into a hug instead. She turned into his embrace. He held her, believing the words he wanted to say would not be well received.

  I want to be part of your next ten-year plan.

  two

  The six former roommates sat around a table in one of O’Malley’s private rooms. Candace wondered how many times they would be gathering like this as their families and careers pulled them in different directions. Tessa had debated other locations for her party but decided on O’Malley’s because it was the last place Sean would think she would go, as his outrageous Irish friend was just a little too brash and way too flirty. Tessa’s description had fallen short of just how outrageous the pub owner was. All night he offered them free drinks in a fake Irish accent only to be turned down every time, as had his offers of kissing the bride and bridesmaids. His good-natured winks told them he was mostly teasing. Candace doubted he was as much of a flirt as he pretended to be.

  Tessa opened Zoe’s gift. “A blank book for a new life. You are still trying to get me to journal?”

  “I believe in it, and what better time to start than when you are starting a new life with a new name?” Zoe’s enthusiasm for journals was only eclipsed by their aunt’s enthusiasm for genealogy—both passions Candace eschewed. Journals because she didn’t wish her darkest hours on anyone and genealogy because, for the most part, it was boring. Although being a descendant of one of the first men to settle their Indiana county and who’d fought in the Revolutionary War was cool. Maybe she should plan a vacation to Massachusetts and see where the family once lived. If Zoe had a long weekend . . . Candace stopped the thought before it went too far. Neither she nor Zoe had a private plane or the resources most of her old roommates
now had. She was getting very spoiled by association.

  Tessa moved on to the other gifts. None of them were huge. After all, what did one get a woman who was marrying the country’s newest billionaire? Candace never felt comfortable giving lingerie. Instead, she choose a painting of a field of bluebonnets at sunrise that Tessa had admired from the walls of Art House.

  “Oh! Now I can always have a part of Art House with me!” Tessa drew her into a teary eyed hug.

  As they had at every shower, the friends divided into two teams and created wedding dresses. This time they made them out of paper napkins rather than the traditional toilet paper since the party was at a restaurant. Mandy and Araceli joined Candace as they raced to make their dresses, the conversation quickly turning to Araceli’s time in Haiti.

  “I’ve reached the point that the children don’t tease me about choosing the wrong Haitian-Creole word all of the time. Last month we took in several new children from a child-trafficking sting. They don’t trust me because I am white, and they avoid Kyle. We are going to stay stateside for a couple months to help give them time to adjust and believe they are in a safe place. They don’t trust white people.” Araceli gathered one end of the napkins she held into a ruffle. “I’m looking forward to a few months in the States.”

  Mandy taped a sweetheart bodice together. “Your turn to be the model, Candace.”

  “I don’t think so.” She was never going to wear a wedding dress, paper or otherwise.

  “We have both been models for the paper dresses. It is only fair you get a turn. Besides, if Joy decides she is hungry, it would ruin the dress.” Mandy turned and checked on her sleeping daughter.

  Araceli cut some napkins into ribbons. “She has a point, and I had to be the model at Mandy’s party as well as my own, and y’all made the one quick dress at Abbie’s half-hour long party before her wedding, which I wasn’t invited to. I have never really had a chance to design.”