Love Bite (Just One Bite #1)

 

 

 

 

Love Bite

Kay Glass

 

Love Bite

Written by
Kay Glass

Copyright
2012
 

 

Dedication

A special
thanks goes out
to Jess
Aldinger
, Shanna O’Donnell-Mariner, and
Samantha Welch, who have been there with me since the beginning and truly
helped me get this book off the ground floor! I also want to thank my husband,
Wayne, for his unending support- I couldn’t have done this without you, baby.
To my mother, Kathy- thanks for supporting me when I wasn’t sure I had what it
took to finish- you gave me the courage to keep going. And to fellow author,
Aiden James- thank you for answering my unending questions. You treated me like
an author before I was willing to view myself as one. Thank you all so much,
for everything you gave to help me make my dream come true.

 
 
Table of
Contents

 

Prologue

Chapter
One

Chapter
Two

Chapter Three

Chapter
Four

Chapter
Five

Chapter
Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter
Nine

Chapter
Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Prologue

 

Diandra Malone was glad to be home. The Caribbean cruise was
wonderful, and she’d enjoyed the two weeks of alone time with her husband,
Jonah, but she’d missed Delaware. Their Cape Cod- influenced home in Bethany
Beach had never looked more
inviting,
she thought as
she sipped her coffee and gazed out the sliding glass doors. Those doors led to
a large rear deck with stairs descending directly to the beach. She stood in
this spot every morning for the last nine years, drinking her coffee and
watching the sun rise over the water.

She turned her back on the amazing view and watched her
husband wandering the kitchen aimlessly, no doubt trying to find his keys-
again. He puffed casually on a cigarette while he circled the island in the
kitchen for the fourth time. She often told him those things would kill him
someday, but he insisted he'd quit when he was ready. Apparently today was not
the day. He finally picked up the keys from where they lay on the counter next
to the toaster, a spot he'd walked past five times before and not seen them.
Now, if she could just get him out of the house she could confirm what she
already knew and talk to him about it when he returned.

“Are you sure you don’t mind if I head to the store?” Jonah
asked her for the hundredth time. “I’m nearly out of cigarettes and we need gas
in the car as well. “ He ran his fingers through his dark blond hair, his
puppy- dog brown eyes finally focusing on his wife now that the mystery of the
disappearing car keys was solved. She wondered, not for the first time, how
this man was a well-decorated cop, constantly sought out during working hours
and off time, and lose everything he touched while at home.

Diandra eyed her husband, looking relaxed in his casual
autumn outfit of faded jeans and dark brown sweater. The jeans fit his trim
waist and toned buttocks perfectly, worn clean through to white patches at the
knees and the right rear pocket. The faded pocket bulged now as it always did
when his custom- made leather wallet was in it. His slightly muscular upper
body looked a little more defined in the form- fitting thick sweater, giving
the appearance of more pectoral muscle mass than was actually present. Diandra
pulled herself back into the conversation and blushed when she realized Jonah
had watched her devour him with her eyes.

“My dear,” said Jonah, “you know what happens when you look
at me like that!” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down in the way that always
made her giggle.

Grinning quite foolishly, Diandra pushed him towards the
front door. She leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss goodbye. “I know
exactly what happens- we spent the majority of our vacation doing just that!
Now you just go and get your cigarettes and I’ll give you a reason to light one
up when you get back!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jonah leered as he gave her rump a
pat on the way out the door. Her happy squeal was still in his ears as he got
into their gold Lexus and drove off, whistling tunelessly to some song only he
could hear.

Diandra went smiling into the bathroom, little white and
pink box in her hands. She was nervous, as she always was when she took a
pregnancy test. So many tests she'd taken over the years, and so many negative
results. So much time she wasted crying when her time of the month came around
and her period showed up on time. Finally, nine years to the day from when they
were married, she knew that little plus sign would pop up in the results
window. She’d known for a little while now, but had held off on purchasing yet
another test until she was sure. At long last, she was finally sure.

Diandra was proud of herself, though. She'd made it through
the vacation and the flight home without telling Jonah about the possible
pregnancy. He always rose before her and made use of the time by going down to
the hotel pool to swim before she woke. She got up each morning, gave in to the
inevitable morning sickness, and was dressed and ready for the day before he
came back upstairs. She brushed her teeth, rinsed multiple times with
mouthwash, and added a little more blusher than usual to cover any lingering
paleness. The hotshot detective was completely oblivious to what was going on
under his nose, she thought smugly.

Diandra opened the box and peed on the stick inside, then
set the timer on her watch for three minutes. She looked at herself in the
full- length mirror on the back of the bathroom door as she waited for the
results of the pregnancy test. Although her favorite lavender nightgown
perfectly complimented her coloring and complexion she was disappointed by what
she saw, as she always was when she forced herself to confront her reflection.
She knew her face was pretty enough but she was also overweight. Diandra wore a
size 20, although she often bought a 22 to hide a bit behind the extra
material. She hated her weight, and must have tried every diet and exercise
plan on the market, all to no avail. The only thing she managed to do was add
more weight to the scale when she gained muscle mass. Sadly, this did not lead
to purchasing smaller clothing sizes.

Diandra did, however, love her unique lilac- colored eyes.
Growing up she was often accused of wearing colored contacts, and the
Department of Motor Vehicles insisted on listing her eye color as blue on her
driver’s license, but her eyes were naturally a light purple that brought to
mind Easter eggs. She was also supremely proud of her full, thick head of
auburn hair. On a sunny day it shone like pennies wrapped in flames, and people
complimented her frequently on both its color and thickness. To calm her nerves
she ran a brush through the strands until they were soft and wavy. This always
soothed her when she was nervous or upset, and it did the trick this time as
well.

Taking a deep breath she set down her purple paddle-style
hairbrush and walked towards the counter. As Diandra picked up the stick to
read the test results, Jonah left the convenience store- and soon after, he
lost his life.

 

Chapter One

 

“Ashes to
ashes,” the minister intoned. “Dust to dust…” God, what a miserable day this
was, Diandra thought as she sat through her husband’s services. A plump woman,
she still looked dignified in her grief, wearing a custom- made charcoal silk
dress with a matching cashmere jacket. A mourning hat, also cashmere, had the
requisite dove gray netting to hide her puffy red- rimmed eyes. Life was
turning into a cruel joke at her expense. She was 28, rich, widowed and
pregnant. She had everything she ever wanted in life, except her husband. Most
people lived without wealth, youth, beauty, children... She knew she'd give
everything up, even the child they'd waited years for, if God would just wipe
this horrible mistake away. Too bad- rumor has it He doesn't bargain.

Nine years
ago, she stood in the church they had just left and said her vows. At the
reception everything was served with lilac napkins that said, “Today I marry my
best friend.” She thought to herself, a little frantically, where
are
the black napkins that say “Today I bury my best
friend”? How’s that for cruel and painful? A choked sob escaped her, quickly
hidden behind her coordinating dove gray handkerchief.

Diandra
refused the tranquilizers her well- meaning doctor tried to push on her. She
didn’t want tranquility; she wanted to remember every aching, ripping detail of
this day. She deserved that memory; she earned every bit of that pain. Nine
years gone in one heartbeat, oh yes, she wanted to feel the pain. One of
Diandra’s hands was fisted, the handkerchief clenched in a damp ball inside.
The other hand traced lazy little patterns on her stomach- a gentle contrast to
the violence of her other hand’s activities. Tranquilizers wouldn’t help either
of them make it through this day, she thought. The next 32 weeks wouldn’t get
any easier for her or the baby if she caved in to her grief now. If she
couldn't have her husband back, she'd damn well take care of this baby. Then
she'd still have a piece of him, no matter how small. If her husband couldn't
live for her, she'd live for the child they'd made together.

Diandra vowed
not to let the pain eat her alive. Neither of them could afford for her to sink
into the pit of despair that waited behind the next crying jag. She was
thankful that since she was not a small woman, the extra weight she carried on
her frame would prevent others from knowing about the baby anytime soon. This
was a small blessing perhaps, but vital to her piece of mind. The looks of pity
she received now were bad enough. She couldn't stand the whispers she knew
would spread through the crowd like wildfire if they knew she was not only a
young widow but a pregnant one at that.

The day suited
her mood perfectly. At least if she had to do this today the weather was
fitting. Had the sun shone bright and the temperature been warm she'd probably
have started screaming and not stopped. While October could be lovely in Sussex
County, today was a day befitting a funeral, and she'd never been more grateful
for anything in her life. The normally bright blue sky was a dingy gray, all
the color seeped out of the scenery. Even the sea gulls circling overhead
sounded like they were in mourning. She was content knowing that even though
she could not indulge in the full weight of her grief, at least the seagulls
could cry for her. A foolish thought, perhaps, but still a soothing one.

Diandra
continued monotonously rubbing her stomach, smiling slightly through her tears
as a memory struck her. She remembered Jonah tracing his fingers lightly over
her girth, much the way she was doing now. He would tell her constantly that
the only person disappointed by her weight was herself. Reminding her always
how much he loved her soul and her personality, as well as the glimpses he
sometimes got of both in her unusual lilac eyes. It always made her roll her
eyes and blush when he did it, but it definitely made her feel good about
herself, just as he had intended it to. He'd always been a bright light in her
life, and he'd kept her from taking herself too seriously. She was so serious
before he'd come along.

Yes, today was
hard, and she started preparing herself mentally to get through the rest of her
life alone. She tried to think only of mundane tasks- making sure all bills and
utilities were transferred to her name, removing his name from the joint bank
accounts, and other day to day business. She refused to dwell on how she’d
manage a newborn by herself, lest she give in to the tears again. Funny, nine
years of marital bliss dampened by only one thing- her inability to conceive.
Why now, when the only one who could truly share in her joy was gone? God,
Diandra thought,
You
truly have a sick sense of humor.

Jonah’s job as
a detective on the Bethany Beach police force brought him plenty of wealth in
the three years he’d spent in the field before he met Diandra. They lived
comfortably but frugally, and he wisely invested the largest portion of his
income. People often complain that cops don’t get paid enough, but Jonah had
done just fine in his field. He chalked it up to his love for his job that had
him putting in at least ten hours of overtime a week, usually closer to twenty.
She often joked that based on his staggering portfolio, he could have retired
on their wedding day and they’d still have been set for life, but he was
happier living as though they had very little extra to work with. He was a
down-to-Earth man, and knew him better than she knew herself.

His only
extravagant expenditures were spent trying to figure out why they couldn't
reproduce. Exorbitant amounts of money had gone to fertility tests and
consultations for treatments, all to no avail. Each doctor came back with the
same results: nothing was wrong with either of them, both of them were healthy,
and perhaps if she lost some weight they might be successful. The comments
about her weight burned the most, each one scarring her self-esteem like they
were acid. Afterward, Diandra would cry and apologize, and Jonah would make
those circles on her belly, telling her over and over again that she was
beautiful and perfect and he never wanted her to change.

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