Jamison has a reputation as a playboy, but Lena is sure she can handle his swagger and charm. What she doesn’t expect, however, is the bond that builds between them and his genuine interest in her. She is the first woman to ever resist him and it only makes him want her more.
And she certainly never expected that this man, this womanizer turned gentleman, might actually come to love her and help her face the things she’s been trying so desperately to run from.
Chapter One: Lena
One hundred and twenty-two. What does that number mean? Well, it’s the number of countries I have visited in my lifetime and it is what I have chosen to introduce myself with. My name is Lena Patterson and I don’t think there’s a better way to impress upon people what kind of person I am than the number of countries I’ve visited. It doesn’t tell you how much I make in a year or what political party I belong to, but what it does say is that I have a deep desire to learn, explore and live life to the fullest. This wasn’t always the case
, however.
I grew up in a small town in Alabama called Bellefontaine. It was the type of town where everyone knows everyone else’s business and people whisper cruel things behind their neighbors backs but smile at them on the streets. People who’ve never lived in a small town in America think of it as wholesome and some even want to raise their children in places like Bellefontaine. I understand the appeal to an outsider, but to me it was a cage.
People in Bellefontaine were born there and most of them died there. No one went college, people distrusted the ‘big cities’ and change was unwelcomed. I remember my mother talking about New York City like it was a stain that needed to be erased. It was a place to be avoided where children’s minds were corrupted. It was the Devil’s City and my mother would do anything in her power to keep me away from the sins and temptations of the world.
That’s why we never travelled. Anything outside my parent’s little bubble was terrifying to them. They didn’t want to be away from the church and the people that they’d grown up with. They wanted everything to stay the way it was when they were kids, even if that wasn’t the best thing.
I was happy to listen to them when I was young. I didn’t really have a choice. Our TV didn’t have cable and my access to the internet didn’t really begin until I was already a teenager and even then, it was limited. I knew very little of the world outside Bellefontaine.
When we were forced to go to Birmingham, my mother kept me close, keeping me from anyone who might want to compromise my morals. Birmingham is relatively small as far cities go, but to me it was a shining metropolis that was full of hope and promise. I wanted to live in a city like that. I wanted to get out of Bellefontaine.
I spent my teenage years rebelling against my parents like most teenagers. I would get rides with my friends and we would go to the city and stay with relatives or people we barely knew. It wasn’t the safest way to live, but it made us happy.
As the internet became more prevalent and smartphones put the power of information into people’s hands, I started to get more and more curious. I wanted to know more about the world and I was determined to find answers to my questions.
My mother was appalled when I was accepted to New York University. She pointed a bony finger in my face and told me that if I moved to New York, neither her nor my father would visit me. I accepted it and moved away to begin the best years of my life.
While I went to school I took full advantage of what the city had to offer. I explored every nook and cranny of the city, spending my weekends and days off crashing in people’s apartments, enjoying parties and all the things I’d missed out on growing up.
My first year was wild, and if I have to be honest, I don’t really remember much of it, but that doesn’t matter. I enjoyed being away from home, but soon realized that a college education wasn’t for me. I bounced around in several majors, but never really found my niche until I joined a study abroad program.
I spent a semester in France where I shacked up with a boyfriend who showed me my love of cooking. We would spend hours in the kitchen together, showing each other family recipes. The relationship didn’t last, but my love of cooking did.
I never went back to NYU and instead applied for a visa and started culinary school. I learned from some of the best chefs in the world and when I was done, I travelled world, taking various jobs to hone my craft. After my first three years working, I started getting recruited by five star restaurants all over the globe. I made a name for myself in the culinary world and soon everyone knew who I was. Magazines interviews me and some of the most powerful people in the world were hiring me to cater their events. I traveled the globe doing what I loved, feeding my wander lust and feeding people.
New York called me back, however. I missed the city lights and the bustle of the streets. I was ready to settle down for a while and continue my career in a more stable environment. I loved traveling, but I wanted to stay put for at least a little while.
That’s how I found myself in the apartment of my best friend, Miguel. He was from Bellefontaine as well and had moved to New York when I did, though he opted to stay in school and become a lawyer. Now he had a fancy pent house in the city and a handsome husband.
We stepped through the door and I toed my shoes off. It was a habit I’d picked up while traveling through Asia. “Thanks for picking me up at the airport.”
Miguel chuckled and nodded towards his black, patent leather couch. “Not a problem. I’m honestly just glad to see you face to face. It’s been years since we saw each other in person.”
“I know. I was just having a good time, you know? Enjoying the world.”
He poured me a glass of wine and handed it over to me, settling on the couch, sipping the pink bubbly liquid. “You were always a wild spirit. Are you sure you’re ready to stay for a while?”
“I think so. I’m an old lady now. I’ve sown my wild oats and I think I’m ready to stick around for at least a few years.”
Miguel rolled his eyes and snorted a little. “You’re an old lady, huh? At twenty-seven?”
I grinned and shrugged, took a sip of the thick, red liquid in my glass. Miguel had damn good taste in wine. He reclined back into the couch and started to undo his tie glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Do you have a job lined up?”
“Mmmm!” My mouth was full of wine, but I waved my hand, showing him I had something to say. “Yeah!” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my messages. “So, I announced I was leaving Spain and the press got a hold of it pretty quickly and within like four hours, I had all these job offers.”
Miguel glanced at my phone, one eyebrow raised. “Impressive.”
“I know, right? I didn’t really expect to get this kind of response!”