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“What?” Her hazy daze wearing off. “We need to take care of you,” she stated, reaching for him.

“Not now. After the Gala. Trust me, I’ll collect. This was just for you. Go on, get ready.”

They worked out the logistics of the remaining time before they had to leave.

“Manny,” Ivy called as she rushed to leave the room.

“Mm,” he answered as he slipped into the shower.

“Thank you.” She blew him a kiss.

“You never have to thank me for taking care of you, Doc.”

Chapter Two

JUST THE HEELS

No thanks was necessary, but Ivy was grateful. Of course, Manny made it home in time to escort her to the gala. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. That was the kind of man she was married to. They had been married twenty-six years and in all that time, he never failed to be present for her or their three children. He did all of that while running the largest processed food company in Canada.

Emmanuel Campbell Scott was a superhero to his wife and children. He wasn’t without faults, but life with him was… Good. Ivy smiled. Endorphins from her release still coursed through her hours later. Since then, they had applied her makeup with flawless skill. While her hair looked elegant in a classic French wrap. The designer Etheline would arrive shortly with her dress. Ivy had a few moments to herself until she appeared. Manny was in his office. If he wasn’t with family and friends, he was working. She knew the kind of work ethic he had now, but when she first met him, that wasn’t the first impression she had.

Golden Boy.

Those words had popped into her head the first time she glimpsed Emmanuel. Not because he was blonde. He was actually the opposite, with glistening thick jet-black curls that hung to the shoulder. His aura was one of someone who had been blessed by Midas himself. 6’5 of solid muscle. He was huge. The energy he gave off! Whew. He certainly wasn’t a boy. All of that was the blueprint of a man. Why had she dubbed him the golden boy again?

He turned, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of her. What the hell? Even from where she stood she made out that his eyes were two colours, the centre. No Iris, she knew the correct term. They were midnight blue, while the surrounding ring was a stormy grey. If that wasn’t the knock-out punch, he cocked his head and smiled, displaying a perfect set of sparkling teeth. She didn’t normally notice guys like this. Ivy had goals. At sixteen, she had a three-year plan to get through her degree in science. So, no, she didn’t have time to admire some nineteen-year-old jock.

Over the next two years, she would notice. Emmanuel was hard to miss. Look for a crowd, he was usually in the centre of it. From what she saw, he ate it up. He was the star player on the football team. Two championships with him as the captain. Everyone adored him. How many times had she been in the coffee shop, and they gave him complimentary drinks? Although, he looked like he came from money. The watch he sported. His clothes. His vehicle. No second-hand beater for him. He drove around in the latest model sport utility vehicle.

The apartment he lived in. Well, luxury came to mind.

Okay. Now she lived there too, but only because her Aunty Cynthia had insisted Ivy move into one of her condos off campus.

“It's your senior year, Ivs. You’re eighteen. You are mature enough to live off campus. Plus, now you won’t have to put up with all the noise of a dorm room.”

No noise from the dorm but having the star quarterback living across the hall made for a steady flow of traffic. Emmanuel always seemed to have someone stopping by. More than his share of female company. Not that she was paying attention. What bothered her was the late-night get-togethers. She had lodged a complaint with the condo association.

Her complaint was discreet, and she was sure that he hadn’t known. Until she found herself in the elevator with him.

“Ivy, is it?”

Ivy nodded, even though she was unsure how he knew her name. It turned out he knew much more. “I know it was you that complained. Now see …If you had asked nicely. This would have played out differently. They told me the reduced noise ordinance doesn’t go into effect until eleven p.m. I promise from now on to keep the volume up nice and loud until 10:59. Sweet dreams.” That had been the first time they had spoken.

Ivy was ready, as she was going to be for the Gala. Thank God she would walk in with Manny at her side. It did a lot to soothe her nerves. He opened the door and stopped short at the sight of her. That was fair. He was a sight to behold too. His navy-blue tux fit him perfectly. He looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ. His long curls were long gone. He’d shaved them off when he had taken over the helm of the company. It helped him to transition his looks from boyish to more mature. Now he looked devastatingly distinguished, with the slight patch of grey on the left of his temple.

With his hands in his pockets, he strolled towards her as his eyes roamed her frame. Manny paused a foot in front of her.

“How is it you get more beautiful every year, month, day, hour, and minute?” His question was filled with wonder.

It wasn’t because Ivy was dressed to the nines for the Gala. It was their thing. He said that to her daily. Ivy often woke up to those words.

“It’s okay. Some mysteries just need to be enjoyed. They don’t have to be explained.” Manny walked behind her, his arms circling her waist.

He drew her close, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her neck.

Despite being 5’9”, Ivy was obsessed with stiletto heels. They put an extra pep in her step. Made her feel confident and sexy. Tonight, she needed the extra boost they provided. She never had to worry about the height of her shoes, even in six-inch heels, Manny was still taller than her.

“Doc, you are going to have to leave those heels on for me when we get back,” he requested as he nuzzled her neck. While his large palm spread across her midsection, cupping the doughy flesh. Ivy no longer gave his actions any thought. Manny had made it clear that he adored every inch of her body and would worship it all without limitations.

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