What the Heart Sees, page 1
What the Heart Sees
KC Luck
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons either living or dead is entirely coincidental.
* * *
Copyright © 2021 KC Luck Media
* * *
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
About the Author
Afterword
Also By KC Luck
Acknowledgments
1
The chauffeur held the open umbrella over Julie Aspen’s dark-haired head as she rushed across the wet sidewalk and into the back of the waiting limousine. Her girlfriend, Ginger, was already inside and shaking a few raindrops out of her long red hair. “Thank you, Garret,” Julie said through the opening as the man stepped back.
“My pleasure, Ms. Aspen,” he replied and then closed the door, shutting out the cold and rainy November night.
“This rain is insane,” Ginger said with a sigh while opening her purse. Julie watched the sensual young woman take out a compact mirror before checking her makeup. She carefully ran a finger over her lips and under her eyes, but Julie thought she looked perfect. “I hate this time of year. We so should’ve gone to Athens. I love Greece in the fall.”
Julie smiled and had to agree. The weather in New York City in early November was genuinely unpleasant. “It could be worse,” she replied. “At least it isn’t snow.”
Ginger snapped the compact shut and dropped it back into her expensive black and gold designer bag. “Honestly, I’d rather have snow,” she said. “At least it is somewhat pretty. And it always puts you in the mood to go skiing.”
“True,” Julie chuckled. “Well, you will probably get your way. The weather forecast is for snow by Sunday.”
Ginger kicked off her black pumps and curled her sexy, shapely legs under her. “Well, you know how much I like getting my way,” she said, reaching out to run a well-manicured red fingernail down Julie’s sleeve. The jacket was thick, gray wool, but somehow the touch burned through the fabric, almost searing Julie’s skin. A twinge of excitement tightened her stomach as she felt the limousine pull away from the curb and into the late evening traffic. Even under the best circumstances, the ride home was at least thirty minutes, and it was almost a week since she last had Ginger. And we haven’t had sex in the back of a limo yet, she thought as Ginger pulled back her hand and let out a dramatic sigh. “God, that dinner was long.”
Julie sighed herself. The young woman could not be more right. “Yes, it was,” she said. “I absolutely hate having to go to those things, but it is part of the business.”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been so bad, except you should have been the guest of honor,” Ginger said. “I mean stuffy old Monty Cleveland? Really?” The woman tilted her head and smiled. It was suggestive, and Julie couldn’t help but notice. She liked what she saw. “He can’t hold a candle to you.”
Julie kept her thoughts to herself, but she had to agree. Monty did pull down good numbers for the Wall Street firm where they worked, but only because he was part of the old boy’s network. Julie put in twice as much effort as he did, and everyone at the firm and half of Wall Street knew it. Even after a dozen years with the prosperous Risen, Smith, and Griffin, she was still working her ass off to get on the very top of the pyramid. Not that she minded long hours and not that she wasn’t paid extravagantly well, but her goal was to be a managing partner before all was said and done. She was close, and she knew it.
“All in due time, baby,” Julie said to her girlfriend. “All in due time.” She rested deeper into the leather seats. “Now, how about you pour me a scotch?” She probably shouldn’t have one. In her boredom and maybe with a touch of resentment, she had hit the wine a little hard during the banquet dinner. Still, there was nothing wrong with continuing the fun with Ginger. As she watched, the sexy woman slipped forward on the seat to open the minibar and prepare Julie what she wanted. Ginger was especially adept at that skill, which was only fair as Julie spoiled her regularly with extravagant gifts and luxurious trips to all parts of the globe.
Turning to hand Julie the drink, Ginger gave her a smile. It was slow and sultry. “Anything else I can do for my powerful Wall Street broker?” she murmured, running her hands down her body to the hem of her short dress. “I saw how you reacted when I touched you.” Julie licked her lips, and not because she was already craving the taste of the scotch. Without comment, she pressed the button on the armrest to close the window between the front and back seats.
* * *
The horse stall was ablaze from all the extra lights Sage Montgomery asked the ranch hand to bring in. She held the suffering mare’s head in her lap and caressed the animal’s sweaty neck with her fingers. “You’re going to be okay, Lucy,” she murmured in her most soothing tone. Keeping the mare calm was all she could do. “Your baby is being a little stubborn about wanting to come into the world.” Sage hoped she was telling the truth and the foal was still okay. The labor was taking too long, and the hour was far into the dark Autumn night. Please don’t let me have waited until it was too late, she thought, forcing herself to stay strong and push back the sob in her throat. She ran her hand along the horse’s damp shoulder and felt the mare trembling. If she doesn’t make it, I’ll never forgive myself.
“I hear something.” There was a pause. “Yes, he’s here,” Sage heard her Aunt Ruth call from where she stood at the barn door, watching the driveway. “I see the headlights coming this way.” Sage sent up a little prayer the vet would be able to make a difference.
Leaning closer, Sage felt heat rising from the distressed mare. “See?” she whispered into the horse’s velvet ear. “The emergency vet is here from Florence, and he’s really good. Everything will be okay in no time.” Sage felt Lucy raise her head a little off her lap as if in acknowledgment, and Sage took the show of strength as a good sign. She had no problem admitting she loved Lucy more than the other horses on her ranch. She was the first one she purchased when she was able to after the horrific car accident which took her parents’ life and most of her sight. Somehow, by pouring out her sorrow to the mare, Sage was able to mend at least part of her broken soul. If I lose her… Sage refused to finish the thought and relief filled her when she saw a large shadow appear at the entrance to the stall.
“Hey there,” she heard a man’s deep voice coo, and she sensed the vet was kneeling in the fresh bed of hay they had put out for Lucy. “Let’s see what we have going on.”
“Thank you for coming,” Sage choked out. “I should have called you sooner, but….” Her voice trailed off. It came down to the same old problem. Money. There were no vets in the tiny town of Spruce Creek. Asking one to come from Florence was expensive, so Sage bet on the colt’s birth being straightforward and not requiring a vet on hand. With her aunt’s experience birthing horses, plus her own ability to steady the animal, as well as the support of their ranch hand, Carl, she planned for them to do it themselves. If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plan, she thought, clenching her jaw with frustration, but then willed herself to take another deep breath. Sage knew from her own experience being angry did not change anything and only made a person more miserable in the end.
“Okay, the foal is turned, and it looks like a leg is obstructing the delivery. I’m going to try something,” the vet explained. “Just keep comforting her.” Minutes passed, and Sage could hear the vet working but she grew more afraid when nothing appeared to be happening. Finally, there was a pause, followed by a grunt from the vet, and then Sage felt the mare shift, raising her head again. Lucy let out a weak whinny, but Sage was unsure if it was from pain or relief.
“What’s happening?” she asked, wishing she could see better. Everything, even with the extra lamps, was nothing but blurry, shadowy shapes.
“We are saying hello to a new baby boy,” the vet said, and Sage heard hands clapping.
“Oh Sage, he’s beautiful,” her Aunt Ruth said. “Absolutely beautiful.”
* * *
Slipping on the white terrycloth robe, Julie appreciated the softness of the very plush, and therefore incredibly expensive, fabric against her skin. She ran a hand across the steamed-up mirror and regarded herself in the reflection. Her damp, short, black hair lay slicked against her head, which only emphasized the startling blueness of her eyes. Turning her face from left to right, she checked for new wrinkles and was pleased to only see a touch of some around her eyes. Laugh lines are what people call th
Stepping out of the luxurious bathroom larger than her first apartment, Julie paused when she noticed Ginger was asleep in Julie’s king-sized bed. The woman still wore her black dress but had kicked off her shoes and wrapped herself in the down comforter. With a smile, Julie could not begrudge the woman’s need for sleep as it was quite late. And she earned it, Julie thought, reflecting on their tryst in the back of the limousine as the vehicle navigated through traffic. After Ginger slipped out of her black dress, she had straddled Julie wearing nothing but a lacy black thong and matching bra. When Julie slipped her fingers inside her, Ginger rode her hand with a relentless passion that was Ginger’s signature style.
After a noisy climax of screams of “I’m coming,” that Julie was sure half the city heard, the woman reciprocated by helping Julie unbuckle her Italian wool slacks. Pulling them down far enough to give Ginger’s delicate mouth access to Julie’s hard clit, the young woman went right to work. As far as Julie was concerned, there was something especially pleasant about a sexy young redhead kneeling between her legs. Especially in the back of a luxury limousine with a glass of top-shelf scotch in my hand.
Regardless of the night’s performance, Julie would only let Ginger sleep a little longer before rousing her to send her home. She did not like anyone spending the night. The multi-million- dollar condo was her special space, and she did not appreciate having to share it, especially first thing in the morning. Julie liked the quiet and the luxury of being able to enjoy a cup of coffee in solitude. If she was honest, most people irritated her after a short amount of time, including the lovely Ginger. Business was one thing, and she could play the game with the best of them, talking on the phone with investors as if they were longtime friends and wooing them with just the right things to say. Convincing people to hand over their money, so she could invest it and make both herself and them richer in the process, was her job. One she was very good at.
Leaving the bedroom, she wandered to the wet bar and contemplated having one more drink. A nightcap. What would it hurt? After all, she earned it by suffering through the banquet and watching the pompous ass Monty Cleveland take the trailblazer award she should have received. All in due time, she reminded herself, while she stood at her bar and poured the expensive liquor into her glass. Taking it with her, she walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows of her condo and looked down on the city. Her home was twenty-seven stories up and in a beautiful part of Manhattan. Some would say it was a million-dollar view, but that was far under what it cost her to purchase the space. Some things were worth every penny, especially her fortress of solitude. Taking a sip, she smiled as the smoky liquid ran over her tongue. She had come a long way from her roots, having grown up in a map-dot town along the Oregon Coast. Spruce Creek. A place she had not visited since the day she graduated high school and drove away without looking back. Occasionally she received emails about high school reunions, but she ignored them. There was nothing and no one there she cared about. Not anymore. Her focus was on New York City. Laser focus. It was what it took to succeed in the finance business, and she would not let anything, especially now, distract her.
2
The feel of warm, wet, and sloppy kisses on her neck and cheek woke Sage from a deep sleep. Smiling, she fluttered her hazel eyes open and turned her face toward the source of unconditional affection. The blurry outline of what she knew was the grinning face of her Golden Retriever greeted her. “Good morning, Baxter,” Sage said. She felt the breeze from the dog wagging his tail with enthusiasm, and that same tail making a rhythmic thump against the nightstand. Snaking her arm from under the warm covers, she rubbed the soft fur of the dog’s ear and was rewarded with a moan of pleasure from deep in the dog’s throat. Blinking, always trying to get her eyes to focus even after almost exactly four years since the accident, Sage noted the room was unusually bright. “Alexa, what time is it?” she asked the small, round and extremely helpful device on her nightstand.
After a chime, a woman’s pleasant voice answered. “The time is nine twenty-seven A.M.” Whoa, Sage thought, pushing herself into a seated position and rubbing a hand over her face. I really slept late. Of course, after the long night helping her beloved mare Lucy have her baby boy, nine-thirty in the morning still only translated to five hours sleep. With a yawn, she swung her legs from under the blankets and padded barefoot across the cold wood floor to the bathroom. She knew exactly where everything was in the room. The ranch house had been in the family for generations and was where she grew up. The bedroom was hers since she was a baby. Of course, after high school she went off to the nearby University of Oregon to get her degree in art and lived in the dorms. Afterward, she lived in Eugene and worked as a struggling artist in a tiny art gallery, with high hopes of eventually moving to a bigger city. Portland at least, or maybe even, if she could make something of a name for herself, San Francisco. All those dreams came to a sudden halt one rainy night in November, and now at twenty-nine, she was back in her old bedroom—safe among the familiar.
Always attentive, Baxter followed on her heels to keep her company while she started her morning routine. He was a great dog, trained to be her companion. Not a service dog because she already had Baxter before the accident, but keen enough to keep her from walking off a cliff or in front of a truck. Because Sage’s sight was eighty percent diminished, she was at risk, particularly from anything low to the ground or more than a few feet away. As she started the water in the shower, she heard Baxter settle on the round, shag bathmat in the corner, his designated place in the bathroom. “Good, boy,” Sage said, slipping her nightgown over her head to hang on the hook behind the door and stepping under the hot spray. The water helped wake her as she let it wet her shoulder-length red hair and then sluice down her slender body. Using the tropical-smelling shower gel she loved, she ran her hands over the tangle of puckered scars on her abdomen and hip. The horrible car accident did more than take her sight, but had also ruptured her spleen, shattered her hip, and put her in a coma for two weeks. Doctors told her it was a miracle she survived the accident, but there were still times she wondered if waking from the coma to a frightening world with her parents gone was a miracle or a curse.
* * *
In her home office, Julie reclined in her brown-leather executive chair. She sipped hot, black coffee as she watched the three computer screens scroll numbers from right to left. The foreign stock exchanges were cranking along, and she was pleased with how her many investments were faring in the different markets. As much as she questioned the current political administration, the economy was doing well, and she was making money hand over fist. “Well, Lewis,” she said, earbuds firmly in place from the minute she got out of bed, so she could take any call handsfree and not miss a beat, “it looks like our high-risk, high-reward Yonosoto Therapeutics investment is doing very well in Japan this morning.” The man chuckled into her ear.
