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  HEART & SEOUL

  A Novella

  By Victoria H. Smith

  ~ THE SPACE BETWEEN SERIES ~

  BOOK 2.5

  HEART & SEOUL: A Novella

  Copyright © 2014 by Victoria H. Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Victoria H. Smith

  Cover design by Scott Smith

  Cover photo by monkeybusiness

  Editing by Taylor K’s Editing Services

  Layout by Scott Smith

  HEART & SEOUL

  Chapter One

  I took a moment to assess the current situation at hand.

  My heels were on the floor. They’d fallen from my feet. I was sitting on the kitchen counter, my ass physically pulled to the edge only minutes prior. The skirt of my yellow sundress had been pushed up and Drake was corralled between my legs. He nipped hungrily at my neck, gripping my thighs with strong hands. Any other time, I’d be welcoming his pursuit. But seeing as how I was in the middle of something when he attacked me, and we were mere minutes from being late for our afternoon meeting with his mother, this intrusion couldn’t have come at a worse time.

  Rather hazy-eyed, I glanced at the container next to my thigh that only held two sugar cookies in it, then to the vacant circles on the still warm cookie sheet resting on the range. He’d only let me put two cookies in the container before he snatched me up and propped me on the counter. I still had the spatula in my hand for pity sake.

  I grasped his bicep with my free hand, fighting myself not to move my hand hotly along the muscled contours of his arm. I pushed at him, but he didn’t budge from my neck.

  “Drake,” I gasped, closing my eyes. “Drake, we’re going to be late to see your mom.”

  He simply switched sides of my neck, moving his lips along the sensitive skin under my earlobe. “Only a few minutes.”

  “I don’t want…” He was kissing up my throat now. My lips parted and my eyes rolled back as I unintentionally tilted my head for him. “I don’t want to be rude.”

  His tongue peaked out, flicking underneath my chin. “Then let’s cancel.”

  “Cancel?” I sighed.

  “Mmmhmm.” He brushed his lips along my jaw, following the line up to my earlobe, which he quickly drew into his mouth. “We haven’t christened all the surfaces in the new apartment yet. Sounds like way more fun than spending the afternoon with my mom.”

  Oh… That did sound like fun.

  “What do you say?” he breathed.

  I opened my eyes, forcing myself to come down from my high. “We probably shouldn’t. We’ve had today planned with her for weeks and don’t you want to see her before we leave tomorrow?”

  Our trip to Seoul was mere hours away. I found it hard to believe that he wouldn’t want to see her before doing something this big. They’d worked so hard together making the preparations to find his birth mother, like contacting the appropriate agencies and scheduling appointments so he’d be good to go when we arrived. Not to mention, he’d hurt her if he just took off without saying goodbye. She would want to wish him well.

  He heard this, but he didn’t stop his lips from moving along my ear. “Yeah, I do. So let’s just be late then.”

  I grabbed his arms, and finally, he pulled back a bit. It was hard to say no to that handsome face. Ignore that sexy, inky black hair. He had it styled in an intentional tousle, thick and waiting for my fingers to muss it up more. His plump lips were still wet from kissing, and the way his dark brown eyes blazed over me, like he could already envision himself inside me, I was questioning stopping him. In the end, I allowed myself to be the strong one.

  “I told you I don’t want to be late,” I said. “Now, let me finish packing up these cookies I made for tea with your mom.”

  I gripped the edge of the counter to hop down, but he didn’t let me, grabbing my waist.

  “Lacey…” he said, shooting me a set of his best puppy dog eyes, “just a few minutes.” He leaned in, taking my neck again. “What will a few minutes hurt?”

  I scrunched up my nose, suddenly growing suspicious. Why was he pushing so hard for us to be late? Now that I thought about it, the way he came at me was so random. Especially since he’d been ignoring me all day. He’d been hunkered down in our room, finalizing the plans for our trip. I literally told him it was time to go, then went to grab my cookies out of the oven. The next thing I knew, I was on the kitchen counter moaning. “You wouldn’t be trying to stall for some reason would you, Truman Drake?”

  He leaned his long frame back, looking seemingly insulted. “Now, why would you say that? Can’t a man just show his woman a little affection whenever he feels like it? Can’t he…”

  I was thrown for an erotic loop when he dipped his head, kissing the swell of my breasts.

  My breath escaped in small wisps.

  “…kiss her whenever he wants,” he continued, placing small love bites along my chest. “Touch her how he feels she deserves to be touched.”

  He pushed his hands slowly yet aggressively up my thighs, and I gripped his arms to keep from turning into jelly. Good God he is so good…

  He gave a little chuckle against my breasts. It was low, gravelly, and incredibly sexy, like only he had a way of doing. I should be mad he could get me to submit to him so easily, but at the moment I was only focused on his moving hands.

  Looping his fingers around the sides of my panties, he tugged them down my thighs and I gave into him by lifting my ass from the counter so he could take them off. With finesse, he removed the material, sliding them into his pocket.

  He brought me closer to him by my naked bottom. “Can’t he taste her the way she should be tasted, Lace?”

  He didn’t wait for my response before he eased my legs apart and squatted down. My sense finally came back to me, and I lifted my leg, pressing my toes onto his shoulder to hold him back.

  I eyed him. “I only ask because you’ve been ignoring me all day to get things finalized for our trip, which you know I don’t mind and completely understand. But the minute I come in to tell you we need to leave for your mother’s, you suddenly have to have me. You wouldn’t even let me get my cookies packed up. Do you not want to go because you’ll be bored while we discuss wedding things?”

  That was the reason we planned to meet his mom today. She received the finished wedding invitations from her designer friend and wanted to show us before we left. Drake and I had decided on a small wedding before he started school, but it quickly turned into an event. Between Mrs. Drake and Adele, I was quickly overwhelmed. Our “small” backyard wedding at the Drake house turned into a large one to be held at the Trump Tower downtown. His mother and I would most likely be discussing more particulars today, and I feared he might not want to go because of that.

  He stood, frowning. “You know I don’t mind talking about anything that has to do with you being on my arm for the rest of my life.”

  I bit my lip. I loved it when he was all cute and romantic like that. I tugged the lapels of his gray button down, admiring the flash of golden skin the open lapels exposed.

  “Then what is it?” I asked him.

  Grabbing my waist, he helped me off the counter. He kissed my nose. “Nothing. So if you’re trying to go, then we need to leave before we’re late.”

  I still didn’t necessarily believe him. But he started walking off, so I
knew he was serious about going. I turned to finish packing up my cookies, and my eyes widened at the sudden draft that breezed my nethers from the simple motion. Whipping back around, I placed my hands on my hips. “Truman Drake, I think you have something that belongs to me.”

  He stopped his black Converses mid step. “What ever are you talking about, my beautiful fiancée?” Turning on his heel, he batted his dark eyelashes.

  I placed my hand out. “Nope. Not going to work. Give my panties to me please.”

  He didn’t return to me and popped his bottom lip out in a pout.

  I shook my head. “Truman Drake. My panties. Now.”

  Heavy-footed, he made it over to me and, rather reluctantly, dropped the cream-colored lace into my palm. “You’re so particular about these. You act like I can’t buy you new ones.”

  After placing my feet through the holes, I shimmied them on with the grace of a lady, not allowing him to see the goodies by covering myself with my skirt. If he saw that there would be no stopping him. “If I let you do what you wanted with them, you’d be shredding and taking them whenever you wished.”

  His lips lifted. Slinging an arm around my waist, he pushed me up against him. “Damn right,” he said, before pressing his lips onto mine.

  Chapter Two

  After waving off Sam, the Drake family’s gate attendant, Drake pulled his Jaguar through the iron gates and up the long drive of his family’s split-level ranch home. When we got to the top, there was a black Rolls Royce parked outside of the four-door garage where we usually parked. Standing near the passenger door was an older looking gentleman dressed in all black. Gloves, billed hat, and all.

  Drake groaned next to me, tossing his head back to the seat. “Crap. We almost missed her if Emerson is outside waiting for her.”

  I turned, my hair bouncing on my shoulders. “Almost missed who?”

  Drake waved at the old man through the car window with a small smile. Like he wasn’t upset about whoever the driver was waiting for.

  “My grandmother,” he said, creeping the words through his tight smile.

  The man waved back in response, unaware of Drake’s distaste.

  After giving the man my own smile, I subtlety grabbed Drake’s arm. “Your grandmother is here?”

  “Mmmhmm. My dad’s mother.” He stopped waving when Emerson went around to the passenger side of the car… and then stopped smiling. “My mom called to see if we were still coming before you asked if I was ready to go. She said she was finishing up with her.”

  Crap. So he was stalling. I swallowed hard, fearing the reason why. “What’s wrong with her? Will she not approve of us?”

  He turned my way. Realization dawned on his face, and I knew he understood what I meant. His expression surprisingly settled into a smile. He grabbed my hand. “Oh, no, Lace. My grandmother will love you. I know it. My grandfather might have been a little harder to bring around, but he died from dementia several years ago. He was a lot like my dad. My grandmother couldn’t be more opposite, though. I suppose that’s why she was his first wife of three.”

  My eyes widened. “Three?”

  “Yep.” He got out of the car and came to my side to help me out. Once I was on his arm with my cookies in hand, he continued. “My grandmother is something else. Fiery, I guess you could say. I could only guess they were together in the first place because they were completely opposite. Complemented each other. She definitely gave my grandfather a run for his money.”

  It made me smile to hear that, but confused me at the same time. I didn’t understand why Drake wanted to avoid her.

  He didn’t explain and led me into the house where the Drake’s housekeeper, Manuela, greeted us. She took my cookies from me and told me she’d get them prepared on a platter for afternoon tea.

  After she left, I decided to push Drake about his grandmother. “If your grandmother wouldn’t have a problem with our engagement why were you trying to avoid her today?”

  He took me through the house. “Well, I was the first grandchild. One of only two for her, and I guess you can say she can be a bit—”

  “Tru Tru?” came a raspy, but excited voice. “Is that my little wrinkle bottom, I hear?”

  Drake cringed. “Clingy,” he finished.

  A tiny woman with long white hair at the root that flowed into gray at the bottom charged in from the direction of the Drake family’s parlor. She had an alarming speed backing her feet considering her age. She looked to be pushing at least eighty. She met us in the living room. Her arms out in front of her, she passed right by me with a goal-oriented gaze. With her focus set on Drake, I could see why. He was in her arms within a minute; his face scrunched up as she smacked kisses all over his cheeks. He was so much taller than her that he had to bend at the waist to get to her level.

  “Tru Tru, how I’ve missed you,” she crooned, pinching his cheek.

  He gave a wide smile showing no teeth. “I’ve missed you too, Memaw.”

  I placed my fingers casually to my lips to keep from smiling. He calls her memaw. That’s so freakin’ cute.

  She held his large hand in her tiny ones. “It’s been so long since you came to see me. Why haven’t you since your parents moved you and your sister to the city? And why are you so skinny?” She pulled back, seemingly flabbergasted at the sight of him. “Your mother doesn’t still have you on that vegan diet does she?” She popped her tongue out in disgust.

  “Truman doesn’t live at home anymore, Lorraine.” Drake’s mom came into the room, sitting gingerly on the arm of the sofa in her pink skirt and white ruffled top. “He takes care of his own diet now,” she said, but she was smiling.

  Drake nodded. “She’s right, Memaw. And I’m sorry I haven’t been by. I’ve been busy.”

  His eyes veered my way. His gaze softened in an adoration that had my heart melting. His grandmother noticed and placed her hand on her chest.

  Drake slid his hand into mine. Pulling me forward, he presented me to her. “Memaw, this is my fiancée, Lacey. Lacey, my grandmother, Lorraine.”

  Instinctually, I put out my hand, but the elderly woman wouldn’t have it. She threw her arms around me, and I giggled. “Nice to meet you, Grandmother Lorraine.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, call me Memaw.” She pulled back. Holding my hands, she took me in. “Tru Tru, she’s simply gorgeous.”

  It was official. I loved this woman.

  She tugged me to her, whispering. “You know, it was Tru Tru who came up with his nickname. Truman was a mouthful for him. He refused to be called anything else until he was five, but by then it stuck with me.”

  I fought myself from snickering. Even as a kid Drake was particular about his name.

  His eyes lifted to the heavens. “Memaw…”

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Tru Tru. It doesn’t leave this house. I know you hate it.” She winked at him.

  His face flooded with relief, and I had to keep myself from going over and kissing him. I loved bashful Tru Tru.

  Drake’s grandmother cuddled up on his side, and he hugged her back.

  “What brings you to the house, Memaw?” he asked her.

  She beamed up at him. “I heard you were going on a pretty important journey soon.”

  “She brought you a gift, Truman.” Drake’s mom came over and handed a sleeved VHS tape to his grandmother. The sleeve looked worn, old. The elderly woman then gave the tape to her grandson.

  “I think it’s time you see this,” she said.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Our small party settled into the living room. Drake got the VHS cued up on his family’s DVD/ VHS player, then took his seat between his grandmother and me. We all sat in front of the family room’s wide flat screen television.

  Drake pressed play and the screen filled with the scene of a busy airport terminal. The date on the corner of the screen showed that this was recorded footage by a personal camera and also explained why the image was so grainy. This video was almost twenty years old.
/>   The camera movements flashed around, picking up every sound of the people surrounding it. The image was a bit shaky and unfocused, making it hard to see much.

  “You must forgive your late grandfather.” Drake’s grandmother placed a hand on his arm. “The old codger had that camera barely a day and didn’t know what he was doing with it. The feed will clear up soon.”

  He looked at her. “Grandpa took this?” He faced the television. “What is this?”

  “Just watch, Truman,” Drake’s mom spoke from the chair, her lips lifting.

  Just as Drake’s grandmother predicted, the image cleared. There were clusters of people around. Some held signs that said things like, “Welcome home” or “Happy Birthday,” while others had balloons in their hands. There was lots of excited banter and many people shedding tears. I didn’t understand why and, by the look of Drake’s expression, he didn’t either. He watched with extreme focus, leaning forward with his arms rested on his knees.

  The camera flashed to a familiar face in the crowd and his eyes widened. His parents were there except they were younger. His father’s hair wasn’t salt and pepper, but brown with a hint of gray. His face had less age lines, less stress. There was also one other thing I noticed as well.

  He was smiling.

  The camera focused on the woman beside him who was held tight to him under his arm. Drake’s mother was absolutely stunning. She was beautiful now, but then she was exquisite. A flawless beauty. She had tears glassing her eyes, her fingertips placed to her lips.

  “He’s almost here. He’s almost here, Phillip.” Though Mrs. Drake whispered, the vintage camera picked her up, her emotion-filled voice and all.

  Mr. Drake rubbed her shoulder. “I know, Madeline. Not long now, sweetheart.”

  Mr. Drake’s words were so soothing to his wife, caring. It was almost as if he were a different man back then. Perhaps he was. This footage was taken years ago. Anything could have happened since then. His career, his life in politics, or simply life in general. Either way, this man was different. Less cold. Happy.