A Breath of Jasmine (The Merriams Book 6) Read online

  A Breath of Jasmine

  by

  Ava Miles

  ~ The Merriams ~

  Quinn & Francesca

  © 2020 Ava Miles

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  International Bestselling Author Ava Miles’ family series, The Merriams, returns for its finale with two long-lost lovers fighting for a second chance despite the odds—with everyone’s favorite matchmakers along to pave their way.

  Quinn recognized Francesca Maroun as his soulmate the moment he met her in grad school.

  Of course he did. The Merriams always recognize their soulmates instantly. It just never occurred to him that world events could drive them apart so they wouldn't end up together.

  Knowing there was no one else for him, Quinn devoted himself to the family business instead. Since he’s taken the reins of the troubled company, he doesn't have the time to dwell on Francesca—much. But with all his siblings falling in love and marrying, the emptiness of his life stretches before him, lonely and bleak.

  But when world events take a turn again, Quinn knows it's now or never. Given that Francesca has become one of the most sought-after business consultants for the Fortune 500, he contacts her to come help him steer Merriams Enterprises clear of disaster.

  When Quinn calls her about working with him to right his business, Francesca knows she should say no. She prides herself on what she's built, and working with Quinn offers temptations she doesn't want to feel. But she’s never healed from their shattering break-up, and perhaps this is the opportunity for closure. It's time to move on. What better way than proving to herself that they're over, once and for all?

  Except events take a dark turn and threaten to destroy everything they’ve both worked so hard for. Even with the Merriam family at his back (and the matchmaking trio he can always count) he’s not sure there's a solution in sight—for Merriam Enterprises or Francesca and him.

  For everyone on the planet, and for more moments of connection, love, and hope.

  Second chance love is sweet.

  I know.

  I am now married to a woman I loved fifty some years ago.

  Quinn Merriam, my nephew, was parted from the love of his life fifteen years ago.

  Frankly, while he might worry it’s too late for take two, I don’t.

  True love always wins.

  But dark forces are gathering.

  The company Quinn now runs is in trouble.

  My dear wife Clara and I are prepared to help her family’s business at all costs.

  However, there is a more dire threat on the horizon, one that might endanger the whole world—or so Hargreaves says.

  As a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, I’ve seen my fair share of events that reshape the world.

  I hope Hargreaves is wrong.

  Whatever comes, this family will stick together.

  And somehow, we will join the last Merriam standing with his soulmate.

  Because what the hell else is this good life for if we don’t live it with those we love?

  Diary Entry of Arthur Hale

  Chapter 1

  Quinn Merriam hated groveling.

  As the chief executive officer of Merriam Enterprises, the very notion made his stomach seize up like he’d eaten bad clams. He didn’t grovel to anyone. Never had. Never would.

  But Francesca Maroun was the kind of woman a man sank down on one knee in front of. He should know—he’d done it before, although last time he’d asked her to marry him. This time he was hoping to enlist her help for his family company.

  He straightened his tie, an Italian blue silk one she’d favor, as he walked up the drive to the historic Frank House she’d rented on Cavallo Point Lodge’s property outside of San Francisco proper.

  Back then, unprecedented world events had split them up, and her perceived duty to her family had kept them apart. Those circumstances had been one in a million, though, and there was no way he was letting her refuse him today. He needed her genius Fortune 500 consulting skills to help turn Merriam Enterprises around.

  He hoped like hell he could keep his mind strictly on business during this first meeting. The python-like constriction around his rib cage suggested otherwise.

  Back then, Francesca’s body had driven him to a depth of desire he hadn’t thought possible. But her brain had been equally arousing. They’d come together at a party in London, both pursuing master’s degrees, and ignited like a bonfire.

  Their relationship had been short, in the scheme of things, but he’d never loved like that again.

  He hoped she would remember it.

  Because he had never forgotten.

  His heart still hurt. He hoped to hell hers did too, because he had a second objective: winning her back. It was a lofty goal for a man who’d waited fifteen years, but his brother Connor had inspired him to try. Connor thought it meant something that he still yearned for Francesca after so many years apart, and Quinn was starting to think he was right. The Merriams had always known their soulmates, and he was no different.

  Knocking on the door, he fortified himself. The bottle of Dom Perignon champagne casually tucked against his side had been meticulously chosen—a memorable vintage from one of her favorite vintners. In his other hand was a bouquet of jasmine flowers. They grew on her family’s estate in Lebanon, or so she said—he had never gone, although they’d talked about him visiting—and she’d explained the symbolism: jasmine flowers were for welcoming family and friends alike. He hoped she’d understand the subtext.

  He wanted to welcome her back into his life and make her feel at home there.

  When she opened the door after his discreet knock, a whip of fire seemed to lash his skin. She was even more stunning than she’d been the day they met. The black hair he’d tangled his fingers in still reached her shoulder blades, thick and lustrous, and the radiance of her olive skin made him want to reach out and caress her. As he gazed into her almond-shaped violet eyes, he felt his heart rattle in the glass prison he’d put it in all those years ago. If her gaze hadn’t been as direct and assessing as ever, he would have dropped the bottle of bubbly.

  “You brought champagne,” she said, her sultry accent redolent of her homeland and her European schooling. “I traveled from Paris for a business meeting, Quinn.”

  A reprimand was in her tone, but in her eyes was something altogether different. They were meeting on her turf and not Merriam headquarters at her suggestion, likely because she’d known any meeting between them would be emotionally charged enough to power a rocket ship. And while she’d always been good at shuttering her emotions, he could see what she was trying so hard not to show. He could see the same longing he felt for her.

  Yeah, she still remembered everything they’d shared. God, the relief made his head spin.

  “It is a business meeting, Francesca, but I brought you a bit of home as well,” he said, resting his weight on his left foot, adjusting to her powerful presence. He’d once told her she could ruffle the velvet curtains in any storied London building by merely walking through the room. The air around her seemed to shift in response to the sheer force of her personality.

  “You figured it wouldn’t hurt, eh? Or were you hoping I’d treat you like an old…friend?” She arched a dramatic brow lushly enhanced with a kohl pencil.

  “I figured we both knew this was more than a business meeting, and I thank you for coming to San Francisco,” he said with equal honesty. “Friends is a bland word, and you know it. We loved each other. I
asked you to marry me. No point in dancing around the past. Besides, this is your favorite champagne, and you know I had to search high and low for jasminun sambac. You always appreciated extra effort, whether in love or business.”

  She gave a Gallic shrug, which only brought his attention to the textured winter white suit she wore. He’d bet it was Valentino. She loved Italian fashion.

  Extending the bottle and bouquet, he said, “So take the bubbly and the flowers and let me come inside and share my business proposal with you.”

  He met her stare and locked himself in place. All he wanted to do was yank her into his arms and kiss away fifteen years of senseless separation. But she’d rebuff that. In fact, she might break the bottle of champagne over his head.

  “You know how I dislike being ordered around, Quinn. While the champagne and flowers are a gallant gesture, they’re nothing if you don’t mind your manners.”

  He fought a smile. This was the dance he remembered—and had missed. “I’ll mind my manners like my mother raised me to do. I’ll even carry in the champagne and flowers since you seem reluctant to take them.”

  “Well, of course you will, darling.” She stepped back to allow him inside.

  “The house surprised me,” he admitted, noting the pleasant contrast between the high white-textured ceilings and light, airy interior.

  “When you’re on the road most of the time, you try to make home wherever you are,” she said, closing the door.

  He found himself remembering her flat in London. It had been small but neat, and full of touches that rendered it both comfortable and classy. A home. And although this wide-open house was much larger and grander, with a breathtaking view of the ocean and Golden Gate Bridge, it exuded the same feeling. The sage green walls in the main room were decorated with bold landscapes. A gas fireplace was nestled in the corner. He caught sight of an open dining area in a buttery yellow, white orchids gracing the table.

  She’d always surrounded herself with the richness of life, a lesson learned from her parents, who’d weathered the Lebanese civil war. The Francesca he knew had always been ready to toast to life.

  She’d taught him how to live in the moment.

  Unfortunately, he’d long since forgotten how.

  No, that wasn’t entirely true. Her way of living had reminded him of her, and the memories were too painful. He hadn’t only thrown himself into work to forget. He’d buried himself in it.

  He set the flowers on the side table and walked to the silver bar stand against the wall, popping the champagne open. Two crystal flutes were within reach, and he filled them to the brim, noting the private glass-enclosed sunroom adjacent to this room. Man, she’d chosen a hell of a place. Then again, she’d always had style.

  When he turned with the glasses, she was sitting on the arm of the caramel leather couch, an amused expression on her face. “So we are to drink as well? At eleven in the morning?”

  “You’re way too European to complain about the time,” he said, extending a glass to her. “To new partnerships.”

  “Of course,” he said, staring her down.

  She took the champagne like she’d taken the meeting: with perfunctory insouciance.

  When she didn’t clink their glasses, he handled that as well and tapped them together a tad aggressively, enough that the crystal rang out with the elegance of a cowbell.

  She laughed. “The glassmaker is rolling over in his grave right now at how you made his crystal sound.”

  “Like I give a damn,” he said, taking a sip of his champagne and finding the yeasty pear notes pleasing.

  He was already falling into the moment with her, every sense sharpened. It was like awakening after years of slumber.

  Drinking as well, she eyed him over the flute. “You’re grouchier than you used to be—but I’d heard that around the global water cooler.”

  That was a clever way to put industry talk. “Running a company with serious financial issues will do that to any man.”

  She shrugged. “Still, I won’t deny you’ve retained some of your charm, or that you look dashing in your tailored suit.”

  He wanted to puff out his chest at her compliment, but he knew she hadn’t finished.

  “You are right, though. You inherited the problems of your older brother. While Connor was wise to leave—or you Merriams were wise to insist he do so—it has not altered the nature of your troubles.”

  “You would have checked out every balance sheet,” he said, shifting his weight at the discomfort of knowing what the numbers looked like. “You know I need you.” His heart sped up as he said the words.

  “Is that the only reason you need me?” she asked boldly.

  “If you’re asking whether I still want you with my last breath, then yes.” He drank deeply, not liking the vise around his diaphragm. “I’d hoped to keep it out of my demeanor, but since I can’t, I’m going to put all my cards on the table. I need you to turn the company around. There’s no one better than you, and we both know it.”

  She gave another Gallic shrug as the cool ocean breeze blew in from an open bay window.

  “But yes…” His heart started to pound. “I never stopped loving you. You are my soulmate, as trite as it may sound. We both agreed on that point long ago. Now I know it’s a family trait. All of my siblings have recognized their soulmates on sight. Just like I did with you.”

  She said nothing.

  His mouth went bone-dry. “It doesn’t have to enter into your decision to work with me. I might have gotten grouchier, as you’ve noticed, but I have excellent self-control.” Until she decided she didn’t want him to.

  Rising from the couch, she strolled past him to the large bay window. “I was afraid of this. It’s been fifteen years, Quinn.”

  And each one of those years had felt colder and lonelier. “The poets say love is timeless.” He lowered his glass to his side. “We used to read Rumi to each other in Hyde Park, remember? ‘You are the root of heaven, the morning star, the bright moon, the house of endless Love.’ I used to believe that. I still want to.”

  “Stars die, Quinn. Nothing is endless.”

  Her cynicism rendered him speechless. The Francesca he knew would never have said that.

  She turned with enough force to have ruffled the curtains, had there been any, but her eyes didn’t seek him out, instead lowering to her glass. “Let’s talk business. You want my help making Merriam Enterprises profitable again.”

  The message was obvious: back to business. “Yes.”

  “It will take more than restructuring,” she said, tilting her head up and meeting his gaze directly again. “You might have to sell off more divisions. I know selling the pharmaceutical arm hasn’t stopped the financial bleeding.”

  “No, it hasn’t. May we sit? I’m worried about that beautiful neck of yours craning to look up at me.” At five foot five inches without heels, she wasn’t a petite woman, but he was six foot four and still towered over her. He’d always teased her about that.

  “Hence why I wore four-inch Manolos.” She laughed, extending her foot like a ballerina on pointe. “Why don’t you sit? Then you can crane your neck looking at me.”

  She paused, and he felt that old familiar beat in his blood. Her eyes tracked to his pulse point, and he could almost feel her lips on the underside of his jaw. She’d always loved nuzzling him there, saying his aftershave and skin created the most manly of fragrances, one she couldn’t get enough of.

  Desire shook the air between them.

  God, he’d never felt so alive as when he was with her. “Stand away,” he said, lowering onto the couch. “I’m happy to crane my neck to look up at you. While I may be grouchy, you are as beautiful as ever.”

  She raised a delicate brow but took the seat across from him on the couch, sitting sideways. “Thank you. But I wouldn’t want you to need a neck brace after this meeting. You’re so tense, Quinn.”

  No shit, he thought. “You always had remedies for that, France
sca.”

  Her mouth twitched. “Indeed. Now, why don’t you let me tell you what I have in mind for this consultancy? Since we have a past, I’m going to be more candid than usual. You aren’t going to like some parts of what I’d recommend, Quinn.”

  “I figured as much.” He set his champagne on the coffee table and rested his ankle on his other knee. “Shoot.”

  “You likely have heard how I work.” She lifted her flute and gestured to him.

  “I have,” he said slowly. “You never were one to be on call for anyone.”

  “I need full buy-in. Anything less won’t work. My reputation for delivering results is as important to me as turning the company back around is for you. So… You and I will work nonstop on the restructuring plan until we’re both happy with it.”

  Music to his ears.

  “You’ll have to create space in your schedule. I would suggest you have someone from the family take over your main duties. Flynn is on his honeymoon, I understand, and your sisters don’t fit the profile. Trevor, perhaps? He’s based in Ireland, I hear, but he’s your lead negotiator. Otherwise, J.T. would be a strong candidate. I know he doesn’t work officially for Merriam Enterprises anymore, but he’s on the board. Unless your father is interested in coming back short-term?”

  He winced. Asking any of them to step in would be a big ask, but he’d known he was going to have to pony up. He knew her rules, and frankly, he wanted to work with her nonstop as well. For so many reasons. “How long do you think it will take?”

  “With your sole focus on the task, three or four weeks. Quinn, some divisions will need to be merged. People will need to be laid off. Those details take time. I can move the debt and the profit around to make a better engine, so to speak, but if we don’t have the right person driving the car, it’s still going to crash. That’s why I insist on the CEO’s total cooperation.”