Donna Hill - For The Love Of You

Title Page For the Love of You Donna Hill www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author DONNA HILL began writing novels in 1990. Since that time she has had more than forty titles published, which include full-length novels and novellas. Two of her novels and one novella were adapted for television. She has won numerous awards for her body of work. She is also the editor of five novels, two of which were nominated for awards. She easily moves from romance to erotica, horror, comedy and women’s fiction. She was the first recipient of the RT Book Reviews Trailblazer Award, won the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award and currently teaches writing at the Frederick Douglass Creative Arts Center. Donna lives in Brooklyn with her family. Visit her website at donnahill.com .

Dedication This novel is lovingly dedicated to my dearest friend and mentor, Gwynne Forster. I miss you, my friend.

Acknowledgments Acknowledgments Acknowledgments 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 Epilogue Copyright I wish to thank my ever patient editor, Glenda Howard, for never giving up on me.

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

Epilogue

Copyright

Chapter 1

The ten-hour flight from London Heathrow Airport landed in New Orleans, Louisiana, on time, to the delight of the weary passengers, Craig Lawson among them. His return home after more than ten years came with a mixture of regret and anticipation. Regret that for all those years he’d never felt compelled to return to the place where he’d grown up, and anticipation for the reason why he’d finally come home.

After breezing through customs and collecting his luggage, he and his business partner and lifelong buddy, Anthony Maxwell, headed for the pickup area and the car that awaited them. They passed a newsstand, and Anthony tapped Craig’s arm and lifted his head in the direction of the magazines, where Craig’s face graced the covers of Entertainment Weekly, Variety and Black Enterprise.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were important,” Anthony teased.

Craig chuckled. “As long as the importance translates into success at the box office,” he said. He took a last glance at the magazines and shook his head. When he’d broken ties with his family—his father, specifically—and headed to Los Angeles to pursue his dream as a screenwriter, it had been one of the most difficult things he’d had to do. To a Lawson, family was everything. Yet as hard as it was, looking back, he would not have done anything differently. As much as his father would like to believe that what he did for a living was nothing more than pandering, the real reason for his distaste for his son’s profession went much deeper. Craig grew weary of fighting that ghost. So he left and never looked back. Now he was one of the most successful and celebrated screenwriters and movie directors on the East and the West Coasts. He had an Oscar, a Golden Globe and an NAACP Image Award under his belt. Behind closed doors he was called the golden boy. To his face he was Mr. Lawson.

As the duo exited baggage claim, they walked by the rows of drivers holding up signs with the names of their passengers. Craig’s driver spotted him first and stepped out of the line.

“Mr. Lawson,” the female driver greeted him with a tip of her head. “I’ll get a cart for your bags.”

Craig’s right brow lifted in question, and he quickly assessed the stunning young woman in front of him. Even in her stark uniform of black slacks and jacket and a starched white shirt she was a work of art. The corner of his mouth curved ever so slightly as he watched her retrieve a luggage cart and return to them. Although he knew it was her job, the Southern gentleman in him wouldn’t allow her to do it.

“Let me get the bags on the cart. We’ll meet you at the car.”

“I can take care of the bags, Mr. Lawson,” she mildly protested.

“I’m sure that you can.” He easily hoisted the oversize bags onto the cart. “But I’d rather that you didn’t. My mama didn’t raise me that way.”

The young woman flushed, pressed her polished lips together and murmured a thank-you. “The car is this way.” She started off toward the ground transportation area.

“Don’t distract her from her driving,” Anthony teased under his breath as they dutifully followed her to the exit.

“Not my intention. But I will say, it’s a pleasure following her lead.”

Truth be told, the last thing on his mind was getting with a woman. Although he had a reputation as a ladies’ man, especially his leading ladies, it was all smoke and mirrors. The women who drifted in and out of his life were just that—transient. He found none that could excite his mind as well as his body, so he kept his relationships short, practical and amicable. For all of his numerous dalliances, there wasn’t one woman who could say she had not been treated like a lady while she’d spent time with him.

“How does it feel to be back?” Anthony asked as they settled into the air-conditioned comfort of the town car.

Craig drew in a breath and glanced out the window as the Louisiana landscape unfolded in front of them. “Still trying to process it. Feels strange. I mean, things kind of look the same but different—smaller.” He chuckled.

“You plan to see the family?”

Craig’s jaw flexed. He leaned his elbow on the armrest and braced his chin on his fist. “I don’t know. I’m sure they’ve heard that I’m back. Guess it wouldn’t be right not to check in on my sister and brother and my cousins.” He paused. “And I know that’s not what you meant.” He flashed his friend a look of censure. “I’m not going to see him.”

Anthony held up his hands. “Hey, just asking a question, man.”

Craig went back to staring out the window. The rift between father and son wasn’t some simple spat that could be rectified with an adult conversation. His father made himself perfectly clear years ago that if Craig were to pursue “this trashy movie thing,” he was cut off from the family and he didn’t want him to set foot back in his house. His father, Jake Lawson, ran his family the way he ran his international land development enterprise—with an unbending hand. He couldn’t—or rather wouldn’t—see beyond his own narrow lens to be able to accept that his dreams and goals were not everyone else’s. He kept Craig’s sister, Alyse, and brother, Myles, on a short leash, but he never could control Craig. And Craig knew that his father’s disillusionment with the Hollywood life ran deep, and his mother was at the root of it. But he wasn’t his mother.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed his location scout Paul Frazier.

“Yeah, Paul, we landed about an hour ago. In the car now, headed to the hotel. Look, I want you to be ready to take us over to the location when I arrive at the hotel. Yeah, I know I said tomorrow. I want to see it today. Cool. See you in a few.” He disconnected the call.

“You don’t want to chill for a while before going over there?” Anthony asked.

“Naw. I’ve seen pictures, and that’s about it. I know Paul is good at what he does, but if I’m going to sink my money and a helluva lot of time and people’s talent in this film, I want everything to be perfect. I’d rather find out sooner than later.”