One Week in Your Arms: Lafayette Falls, #0

By Patricia Preston

ONE WEEK IN PARADISE! HOW CAN SHE SAY NO?

 

Carson Blackwell is a love 'em and leave 'em billionaire. But after a fiery fling six years ago with Marla Grant, he still harbors pesky feelings for her. Determined to be free of his infatuation, he makes Marla an irresistible offer. In exchange for pretending to be his girlfriend for a week in Hawaii, he pledges a substantial donation to Marla's community clinic. After six years, he's certain Marla won't be the same woman who haunts his dreams, and finally, he will be rid of unrequited love.

Dr. Marla Grant finds herself in a dilemma when Carson offers a much-needed donation to her community clinic if she goes to Hawaii with him. Marla needs the money for her clinic, but a week with Carson is risky. Not only could she lose heart, but also something far more precious if Carson finds out he is the unsuspecting father of her little girl.

During a week in paradise, old passions resurface while unresolved truths hang in the balance. Carson must believe in love again to have the future he wants. Meanwhile, Marla has to decide whether or not to reveal her secret, risking everything she holds dear in the name of love. 

One Week in Your Arms is a traditional mainstream romance. Heat level: warm/open door. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: LoveStory Press
• Release date: Mar 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215485323

Book preview

Table of Contents

Blurb

What Reviewers Are Saying

Escape to Lafayette Falls

Title Page

Copyright

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

Everything His Heart Desires~A Lafayette Falls Romance

About the Author

ONE WEEK IN PARADISE! HOW CAN SHE SAY NO?

Carson Blackwell is a love ‘em and leave ‘em billionaire. But after a fiery fling six years ago with Marla Grant, he still harbors unwanted feelings for her. Determined to be free of his infatuation, he makes Marla an irresistible offer. In exchange for pretending to be his girlfriend for a week in Hawaii, he pledges a substantial donation to Marla’s community clinic. After six years, he’s certain Marla won’t be the same woman who haunts his dreams, and finally, he will be rid of unrequited love. Yay!

Dr. Marla Grant finds herself in a dilemma when Carson offers a much-needed donation to her community clinic if she goes to Hawaii with him. Marla needs the money for her clinic, but a week with Carson is risky. Not only could she lose heart, but also something far more precious if Carson finds out he is the unsuspecting father of her little girl. Uh oh!

During a week in paradise, old passions resurface while unresolved truths hang in the balance. Carson must believe in love again to have the future he wants. Meanwhile, Marla has to decide whether or not to reveal her secret, risking everything she holds dear in the name of love.

What Reviewers Are Saying

I found all this and more in this story full of hope, love, fear, starting over. . .with humor from a very talented author that gives you a story of mistakes, love, longing and family. Cyn, Top Vine Voice Reviewer.

If you love second-chance, romances, you’re in for a real treat! Margie, Vine Voice

It is a lovely second chance story with engaging characters, romance, and humor. It also has some unexpected twists and turns, with a very satisfying ending. Alice B, Netgalley

One Week in Your Arms is a reunion romance with twists and turns that will keep you entertained from beginning to end. LJT, Netgalley

Escape to Lafayette Falls

Welcome to Lafayette Falls, where readers are transported to a world of passionate romance set against the backdrop of a charming small town. The mainstream romances are a celebration of love, with captivating heroes and heroines, plenty of drama, a dash of humor, and warm love scenes. Add a community of unforgettable secondary characters, and the stories will leave you smiling. For more information about the books, visit Lafayette Falls Romances.

One Week in Your Arms

A Lafayette Falls Romance Prequel

Patricia Preston

Copyright ©2016, 2023 by Patricia Preston

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This story is a work of fiction. All characters are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Names and locales have no relationship to anyone bearing the same name, and any resemblance to actual persons, events, and locations is purely coincidental. Characters are not even remotely inspired by individuals known or unknown to the author, and all events are imaginative inventions. No part of this text is allowed to be reproduced or transmitted by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the author.

To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

©2023 Cover by Patricia Robertson, LoveStory Press

Chapter 1

MARLA WISHED THE letter on her desk would vanish. That, somehow, it would sprout little legs and go running all the way back to California. But she was not going to be that lucky.

Today her luck had run out.

She shifted in the old executive desk chair that squeaked every time she moved. Her desk was a vintage monstrosity made of dark cherry wood and built to last forever. A variety of modern items covered the desk, including her new smartphone and a touchscreen tablet. The latest editions of Taber’s Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary and Harrison’s Principles of Internal Medicine were on her desk, along with a solid brass desk nameplate engraved with her name, Marla E. Grant, MD.

The idealistic country girl who had made her family proud. Of course, that wasn’t engraved on the nameplate, although she often thought it should be.

A funny figurine of a frazzled female physician, given to Marla by her staff, stood next to a wire basket that held a variety of notes and reports. Near the basket was a jumbled stack of mail. Most of the mail was the typical stuff from pharmaceutical companies, consulting physicians, and medical associations. She had not been expecting anything out of the ordinary as she thumbed through the envelopes.

Then she had gotten the shock of her life.

She leaned forward and contemplated the stylish envelope on her desk. It haunted her in the way that only an unresolved past can haunt you. Especially a past of well-kept secrets. What did this envelope conceal? She managed to touch it. Barely.

The stationery was exceptional. Expensive, of course. Buff linen paper. The return address featured raised letters in a bold font, black and outlined with gold. No surprise there.

Blackwell Enterprises.

She stared at those two words and tried not to tremble as she thought of a pair of tall, ornate gates that led to an imposing mansion and a world so different from hers. Those gates only opened for a select few in Carson Blackwell’s elite circles.

Lifting her gaze from the envelope to the wall, she looked at the portraits of her little girl, Sophie. Dark-haired and blue-eyed, Sophie smiled back at her. There were pictures of Sophie when she was a baby, a toddler, and the most recent was a picture of Sophie and Marla together, taken on Sophie’s fifth birthday.

Plus, there was one old portrait of Marla with her former husband, Dr. Ben Archer, and one-year-old Sophie. The family that never was.

Marla closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, the letter was still there. It would not disappear on its own.

It will not open by itself either.

Put on your big girl panties and do it.

No, No. Just stick it in the shredder and hope for the best.

She picked up the letter opener. Her heart palpitated in sheer terror as she slid the opener under the flap of the envelope. With the envelope open, she peeped inside to see one folded sheet of stationery.

After six years, what could he possibly have to say?

She pictured him standing beside a black truck in the drive of Mayfair Place, a turn-of-the-century estate belonging to his grandmother. It was time to say goodbye to the only man who had ever swept her off her feet.

She recalled the date. June twenty-eighth. The day had been a warm, blustery day in Tennessee. A summer storm was heading toward the rolling hills near Nashville.

The wind made a mess of Carson’s unruly dark hair. His blue eyes were hidden by a pair of mirrored lens aviators, and his alpha-male physique tested the seams of his polo shirt. He always made her pulse flutter.

If I’m ever back in town, I’ll look you up, he promised as their casual affair came to a predestined end.

For three weeks, they had been together, and finally, the time had come for them to go their separate ways. She had known this moment was inevitable, but she hadn’t realized it would be so difficult or painful. She told herself the feeling would pass.

She forced a smile of goodwill. After all, they weren’t parting in anger, or in love, for that matter. And it was unlikely that she would ever see him again.

I had a great time, she confessed boldly. She’d loved every minute of their brief, steamy affair. Besides being a passionate lover, he was intelligent and fun. Talk about a summer break to remember.

He gave her cheek a stroke, and she inhaled at his touch. You’ll make a great doctor.

You think so?

Yeah. He grinned. You certainly know all there is to know about male anatomy.

Yours, at least. She laughed. Then she hopped up on her toes and kissed him quickly, keeping her passion and sorrow under control. Goodbye, Carson Blackwell.

She stepped away from him. Now was the time to face what was ahead. A grueling three-year residency. There would be no more time for long summer nights, tangled sheets, and sighs of pleasure. She walked toward her small, sturdy hatchback. Before she opened the driver’s door, she looked up and met his gaze as he looked back at her.

Goodbye, he called before he boarded his truck.

At that moment, she had an odd sensation in her chest that her life would never be the same. She chewed on her bottom lip. Then she laughed at her silliness.

A summer fling with a guy just passing through was not something that changed your life. For her, completing her residency would be the life-changer.

She had watched Carson drive off into the sunset, with her heart breaking a little as he disappeared. . .

Never to be seen or heard from again until now.

Why now? She glanced at the calendar. June 6th. Almost six years to the day they had met. Her gaze moved to Sophie’s pictures. Her daughter looked so much like Carson. She had his blue eyes, his wavy dark hair, his smile, and sometimes, his arrogance.

Fate could play dirty tricks even when you didn’t deserve it.

Maybe somehow Carson had found out he had a daughter. Marla had been living on the outskirts of that nightmare ever since Sophie was born. She knew Carson had the kind of wealth that made it possible for him to have whatever he wanted, including Sophie.

That was the secret he’d kept from her that summer at Mayfair Place.

If he wanted custody of Sophie, he could make that happen. Marla was sure of it.

For a moment, she fanned herself with the envelope. It’s not possible.

No one knew the truth except her. Everyone else, all her friends and family, thought Sophie was Ben Archer’s daughter. Not even Ben knew who Sophie’s biological father was.

Dear, sweet Ben had never asked. He had simply accepted Sophie as his child even though he knew she wasn’t, and Marla had kept the truth buried so deep in her heart that it would have taken the best surgeon in the world to excise it.

She withdrew Carson’s letter and unfolded it slowly. The way you’d open a death warrant. The paper trembled in her hands.

A high-quality laser printer produced a perfect, professional copy. Bold and easy to read.

Dear Dr. Grant:

I am writing regarding the John and Eva Richardson Foundation, which provides a monthly stipend to the Lafayette Falls Community Clinic. Samuel Clayton, who has been the director of the foundation since my grandmother’s death, has retired. Due to his retirement, I am assuming control of the foundation.

This letter shall serve as a sixty-day notice of the discontinuation of grant money from the Richardson Foundation to the clinic, effective September first.

This notification should give you ample time to find other benefactors. If I can be of any assistance, please feel free to contact my office.

Yours truly,

Carson Blackwell

Short and to-the-point. That was his style. She slumped in the chair as the breath she’d been holding rushed out as if it had been pent up for decades. Sweet relief poured through her soul. She smiled at Sophie’s picture.

We’re safe, angel. He doesn’t know. He will never know.

She tucked the letter back into the envelope. All that stressing and sweating for nothing. She rubbed her chest as her tense heart muscles finally relaxed.

It was all about money.

The Lafayette Falls Community Clinic provided general medical care to adults and children. The clinic offered reduced rates to non-insured and low-income patients and free wellness services. Grants, sponsors, and government assistance subsidized the nonprofit portion of the clinic.

Without the grant, the clinic finances would need to be adjusted, and that was Nolana’s job. Nolana Sullivan was the clinic’s manager, and she kept up with all the money matters.

At the door of her office, Marla roped her stethoscope around her neck and called to her nurse, Christy, is Mr. Taylor’s X-ray ready?

Christy answered, His X-ray is on the viewer. Also, I have a seven-year-old in Room One with a spider bite.

Okay. Run this letter upstairs to Nolana. She handed the envelope to Christy.

Before she left her office, Marla took a moment as Carson invaded her thoughts again. They had been taking a stroll in the gardens at Mayfair Place.

You can admit it, he said with a sexy grin as he stood before her, his hands spread.

Admit what?

That I swept you off your feet.

That was true, but she wasn’t gonna be that easy. I believe it’s the other way around. I swept you off your feet.

Really? He gave her a merry gaze. I think this may require comprise, which we can discuss over dinner someplace special.

What about Cherokee Sam’s? Their Cajun hamburger with fried pickles on the side is awesome!

Fried pickles. Carson chuckled. You’re one of a kind, Marla. Different, he had added without explanation.

Unfortunately, she had not known at the time how different she was, no more than she had truly known who Carson Blackwell really was.

It had been too late when she found out.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded uneventfully. Marla saw eighteen patients with various complaints and injuries. When she left the last patient, she decided she and Sophie would go to Barney’s for pizza tonight. She was too tired to contemplate making dinner.

As she was completing her patient notes on the computer at the nurses’ station, Nolana appeared. Nolana was an attractive woman with chocolate-colored skin and golden-brown eyes who enjoyed wearing colorful silk scarves with her business suits. She was one of those people born with a pleasant smile, but she wasn’t smiling at the moment.

Nolana’s somber expression troubled Marla.

We need to talk, Nolana spoke quietly. Now.

Marla followed her upstairs. The clinic was located in an old building that had once been a retail business. Nolana’s office still had the original hardwood flooring and tin ceiling tiles. Vibrant African tapestries flourished on grayish-green walls, and a bouquet of fresh roses from Nolana’s garden gave the room an appealing fragrance compared to the medicinal scent of the clinic.

Nolana had a straightforward approach when it came to business. She motioned to the armchair in front of her desk. Without the money from the Richardson Foundation, we’re in trouble. We’ll have to make major cuts.

Marla took a seat. Such as?

For starters, cutting back clinic hours.

At present, the clinic was open five days a week. It provided medical and urgent care treatment to those underinsured or uninsured. Marla worked in the clinic four days a week. Besides her job at the clinic, she was the medical director of a new fitness program for policewomen. Occasionally, she took an emergency department shift when they needed her.

Some of her peers scoffed at her idealism when she started working at the community clinic. They called her starry-eyed and said she would never make a living. True, she didn’t drive a Mercedes and live in an enormous house, but she and her little girl had everything they needed.

How many hours will we need to cut back? she asked.

Nolana settled in her desk chair. Four days a week. Close at five. No more extra services.

Marla shook her head as she considered that. Elderly patients often stopped by to let Christy monitor their blood pressure and vital signs, plus answer questions about their medications. Young mothers often sought childcare education. In addition, the clinic provided medical counseling for all ages. It helped acquire free medications and supplies for patients in shelters.

The clinic needs to be open every day. What about the staff?

When we cut the hours, we’ll have to cut the staff as well, Nolana answered. We don’t have a choice. The foundation grant pays half of our expenses.

That much? Marla had never delved into the clinic finances.

You know Miss Eva Richardson loved this community, Nolana said. She was very generous to the less fortunate.

Yes, Carson’s grandmother Eva Richardson had been a gracious lady known for her benevolence. The great-granddaughter of a New York railroad baron, Eva Carson, married John Richardson in the forties and moved to his country estate, Mayfair Place, her husband’s birthplace.

She had made the town of Lafayette Falls her home, and she’d become one of the city’s most beloved philanthropists. She and her husband had set up a charitable foundation, which helped support the clinic.

Marla tried to remain positive. Maybe we can get more money from the city and the county.

Those tightwads? No way. Not until election year, Nolana replied. Then we might get lucky, but that’s next year. We can try for another federal or state grant, but the process will take months, and there’s no guarantee we’ll get any money.

How about private donations?

We can do that. I can probably get some money from Mike’s firm. Nolana’s husband worked at the largest investment company in town. I’m still waiting to hear back from two private foundations. You could talk to the medical staff, but I don’t think we will find another donor to match the Richardson grant this year.

I’ll meet with Doctor Sheldon, Marla said. Sheldon was the chief of staff and would know if the hospital had any funds available. How much money are we talking about?

At the least, three hundred thousand.

You’re kidding, Marla gasped.

I wish. Nolana opened one of the desk drawers. I need chocolate. How about you?

I really need a drink, Marla responded, but chocolate is good.

Nolana dug a plastic container out of her desk drawer. It was filled with Nolana’s favorite treat. Fancy dark chocolate truffles wrapped in silver foil. She offered the truffles to Marla.

Thank you. Marla took one. She munched on the truffle and looked at Carson’s letter on Nolana’s desk.

She thought back to the first time she’d seen him. He had been standing on the veranda at Mayfair Place. Dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks, he had an arrogant stance and a killer smile. It had been a throw-me-down-and-take-me-now moment.

She sighed. I wonder why he’s doing away with his grandmother’s foundation. He’s rich. He inherited his father’s fortune, which is worth millions.

Actually, Blackwell Enterprises is worth two-point-one billion now, Nolana said, and Marla’s jaw dropped. I Googled it.

Can I have another truffle?

Nolana pushed the container toward Marla. Help yourself.

As Marla stuck the truffle in her mouth, Nolana tapped her fingers on Carson’s letter. I don’t understand why he’d pull the funding on the clinic. With his money, he can easily afford the donation and write it off as a tax deduction.

The truffle melted in Marla’s mouth. A tiny moment of pleasure on a bleak day.

Nolana went on, You would think he’d want to keep his grandparents’ legacy intact.

That probably doesn’t matter to him now. He never lived here, so he has no connection to this community.

Nolana toyed with the letter. Then he doesn’t know anything about the clinic as far as who we are and what we do. She gave the letter a reflective gaze. If he did, he might reconsider and fund the clinic. Maybe I should call him.

Marla squirmed in the chair. I doubt if that would help.

We have to try, Nolana insisted. I tell you what. I’ll call him and invite him to come here.

No! Marla gasped, and Nolana glanced up, surprised. Quickly, she gathered her wits. I’m sure he’s far too busy to come here. Small town. Nothing going on. That’s not his style.

Nolana leaned back in the chair. You know him?

Marla nodded. Try not to dig your grave any deeper.

I met him once. Back when Miss Eva was still alive. There was a fundraiser at Mayfair Place. He was visiting her.

Oh?

Yeah. Marla gave her fingernails a quick glance. I think he was rather bored.

She had often thought that boredom had driven Carson Blackwell to flirt with a nobody like her. A plain country girl with a lofty IQ that had made it possible for her to become the first doctor in her family. A girl who had no money or pedigree.

Why don’t you call him? Nolana suggested. Tell him about the clinic. Maybe you can persuade him to come here.

Marla froze for a moment. I doubt he even remembers who I am.

Nolana stared at Carson’s letter for a moment. Surely, he still remembers you. He addressed the letter to you.

He addressed the letter to you. Those words echoed through her mind, increasing the weight on her shoulders. She had created this mess years ago when she started opening the buttons of his white shirt and made the worst mistake ever.

Marla pushed to her feet. She walked over to the window in Nolana’s office. Across the street, an old home had been converted into a uniform shop. Some of the original lawn endured, whispering of days gone by. Roses and hydrangeas bloomed alongside the house, and beautiful white flowers sprouted from the limbs of a towering magnolia tree.

Carson had addressed the letter to her. How had he known she worked at the clinic? Well, she was officially the medical director, and her name was on all the clinic documents and the website. It did make sense that he would send it to her.

Let me see the letter, Marla said, and Nolana handed her Carson’s letter.

Marla studied it for a moment. It was completely impersonal. No indication that he remembered her or had any desire to see her again. Why should he? According to the