by Tess Oliver
A knock on my door was followed by Coco’s voice. “I have a croissant and coffee for you.”
I walked to the door and opened it. Coco lifted up a tray with coffee and a croissant. There was nothing unusual about her appearance today, just a pretty, young innkeeper and one of her amazing baked goods. “The little crock has my honey butter. I think you’ll like it. I thought you might need some sustenance for your drive home.”
I took hold of the tray. She followed me into the room. “I don’t know how to thank you, Coco. I wish you’d let me pay for all this luxury.”
“Nonsense. Occasionally, a guest shows up who is in special need of some pampering. When they do, I always invite them for a free weekend. It’s all part of my marketing master plan.” She winked at me. “I’ll give you directions back to the highway once you come downstairs.”
“I’ll just shower quickly and eat. Is Jackson at the barn? I wanted to say good-bye.”
“Oh, that’s too bad then.”
My face flashed her direction. “Why?”
“Jackson drove out early this morning in his truck. Said something about picking up some new equipment. Won’t be back until tonight.”
“Oh.” My disappointment could not be missed, but instead of looking sympathetic, Coco was holding back a smile. It was a strange reaction from someone who had been so kind.
“Anyhow,” she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders, “I’ll see you downstairs.” She floated out of the room and closed the door behind her.
It seemed I would never see Jackson again. Not even to say good-bye. Maybe that was for the best. Something told me a good-bye was not going to be as easy as I envisioned. It was probably going to be much less painful to drive away from the inn without having to gaze into his green eyes or see that Hollywood smile again. Or, worst of all, stand in his arms again.
22
The usual Monday morning frenetic energy on the set had made the first half of the day race by. It was what I’d needed to keep my mind off other things. The weekend at Silk Stocking Inn was supposed to help me clear my mind of Nate. And it had. Only now I was suffering what seemed to be a broken heart. The truth was, I missed Jackson. He’d been everything I wanted. Everything I needed.
Isabel walked into the office with the ratings reports. “Ratings are up,” she said cheerily. “Anything else you need before I head down to lunch?”
“Yes, I need to be slapped upside the head.”
She blinked at me from beneath her rhinestone covered cap. “I don’t understand. You want me to slap you?”
“Figure of speech my grandpa liked to use when he saw me do something stupid. This seemed as good a time as any because I’ve been stupid.”
She came toward the desk. “Thought you seemed off today, but with it being Monday morning, I didn’t want to bring it up. Want to talk about it?”
I thought for an instant about rehashing the whole story of my glorious romantic weekend, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it yet. Soon enough, it would all seem like a dream, a mirage that would wash away with time and clarity.
“No, you go ahead.” I glanced at the clock on my desk. “It’s early for lunch, isn’t it?”
Isabel smiled. “Yes, a bit, but a couple of us are anxious to get downstairs. Jenny, the building receptionist, called Edna and told her an incredibly handsome stranger was walking around downstairs looking for someone or something. We just wanted to see him before he disappeared.”
I shook my head. “My gosh, we’re all pathetic when it comes to handsome men, aren’t we? Go ahead then. Enjoy your lunch.”
She headed to the door. “I will. I only wish I’d worn a cowboy hat to cover this frizzy hair today instead of my glittery cap.”
My face snapped up at the words cowboy hat. My throat dried and the question crackled out. “Why a cowboy hat?”
“Jenny said the guy was some tall, broad-shouldered man in a cowboy hat and cowboy boots.”
I took a steadying breath and sat back as she hurried out of the office. I was thankful she hadn’t noticed my reaction. But her face, as she quickly raced back to my office, made my heart nearly jump from my chest.
Isabel’s eyes were round as saucers, and her mouth was dropped open as she stepped into the office. “Becca, there’s someone here to see you.”
I swallowed hard and took another deep breath. My fingers trembled as I stood from my chair. Isabel stayed frozen to the spot as I walked past her without a word. I wondered if I would be able to keep from throwing myself into Jackson’s arms the second I saw him.
I walked out into the hallway, and a man came around the corner. The excitement rushed out of me.
“Nate,” I said, barely able to speak aloud.
Nate looked thinner and suntanned and, somehow, not as handsome as I remembered. “Hey, Becca.” A short, ill-timed laugh spurted from his mouth. “Thought you might be happier to see me.”
“Why would I?”
The cast and crew tried hard not to pay attention to the drama unfolding in the hallway, but they all knew what I’d been through. I couldn’t blame them for lurking nearby to listen. It made Nate nervous.
“Look, can we go into your office?”
“No, we can’t.”
He glanced around at the faces and took a deep breath. “The truth is, I miss you. I made a big mistake. I was hoping we could go back to where we were.”
At the end of the hallway, the elevator bell sounded and the doors slid open. My heart sped up again. The heavy weight in my chest that I’d felt at the sight of Nate lifted.
“Holy mackerel,” Isabel muttered behind me. “I’ve got to get me a horse.”
My feet started moving and moving fast. Nate smiled and opened his arms. I swerved quickly around him and straight into the arms of the amazing cowboy standing behind my ex. I could hear the stunned gasps of some of my crew and the string of cuss words from Nate as Jackson closed his arms around me.
I peered up at him. “You left so early. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“No chance of that, baby.” Jackson plucked his hat off and kissed me. A round of cheers and whistles went up around us. I heard Nate stomp past us as he headed back to the elevators. More cheers followed as the doors closed and the elevator took him away for good.
I took hold of Jackson’s hand and led him toward my office. I pulled him past my extremely stunned assistant. “Isabel, hold all my calls.”
“You bet I will, boss.”
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Cocky & Captivating
Copyright© 2016 by Tess Oliver & Anna Hart
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
1
I should have felt terror and disgust as his dark eyes surveyed me from head to toe, lingering overlong on the swell of my breasts. That’s what a decent woman would have been feeling.
The deck of the ship rose and fell violently as the rest of the pirates boarded, each one more menacing than the last and still my body did not shudder with fear. In fact the opposite. My body shook as a thrill pulsed through me.
The captain and his crew watched helplessly as the galleon was plundered and stripped of its cargo. Not one sailor had the courage to draw his sword or pistol against the cold-hearted thieves who had swarmed the deck.
I lifted my chin and took a deep breath for courage as I stared back at the rogue. Thick black hair waved in the breeze, much like the black jolly roger flying high above the mast of his vessel. Beneath the shade of his hat, the pirate ca
ptain’s smile flashed pearl white in stark contrast to his sun darkened skin. I could almost have imagined a thin dagger clenched between his teeth.
He knew. He knew I wasn’t repelled. I should have looked away or screamed or thrown myself into the waves. He stuck out his hand and again raked his dark, lascivious gaze over my body. “Come on now, wench, take my hand. You’ll be my greatest treasure this round.”
“What will you do with me?” I asked weakly.
“I will keep you captive in my quarters so that I may have the pleasure of your silken skin and warm, tight pussy any hour I choose.”
Rory knocked on the office door, erasing the next sentence from my head. No doubt it was going to be another golden nugget of literary wisdom but it was gone. I minimized the document. Romance writing was my guilty pleasure, my chili cheese fries for lunch, a diversion from the logical and precise world of automotive engineering where I spent most of my day.
“Come in, Rory,” I called.
My assistant’s slim, well-manicured hand curled around the edge of the door, giving me a good long look at the massive diamond engagement ring on her finger. Not only had she managed to land a rich guy, but Edward was charming and likable to boot. I had to work hard at hiding my envy. I didn’t even need the rich part. I was doing fine on my own. I just wanted to find that person who was the perfect mix of lover and friend and soul mate. Like every character I created in my stories, but preferably not fictional.
Rory flounced into the office. She was the only person I knew who could flounce on four inch heels, and she did it with all the grace of a ballerina. She stopped at my desk and put her hands on her hips as she stared down at my half eaten sandwich. “Did the deli mess up and put mustard on it?”
“Huh? Oh no, the sandwich was fine.” I folded it up in its wrapper and walked over to the mini fridge in my office. It had taken me five years, three promotions and four awards for automotive design to land the corner office with the view and wet bar, but I’d discovered, once they’d hauled my grandfather’s antique desk, a family heirloom, although one that was truly only valuable to me, up to the top floor that the corner office just wasn’t that exciting.
“Ahh,” Rory said with a confident nod, “you’ve been spending your lunchtime with one of your many book heroes, haven’t you? I swear, Ginger, you need to publish those stories.”
“I would if I ever actually finished one. Happily ever after endings are kind of unchartered territory for me. I’ve only had relationships that either went badly south or just faded away. I don’t know how to end my romances because I don’t know what it’s like to end up deliriously happy and wrapped in the hero’s arms. Like you, my friend.” I sighed. “You are so lucky.”
Rory stared down at the gleaming stone on her finger. “Trust me, I wake up every morning wondering if it’s all real. Well, anyhow, I came in to let you know that the meeting has been moved an hour later to three o’clock. The boy’s club,” she said with an eye roll, “is still out at lunch. How come you didn’t join your team today? They went to that posh seafood restaurant that just opened on the wharf.”
“Because, and to use your words and your special pronunciation, the boy’s club has been on my nerves lately.” I was part of a five member design team for the luxury sedan division, and I was the only woman. It had taken me a good long year and an impressive show of designs to earn my team’s respect, but when I’d also earned the respect and high praise from the president of the company, I’d lost some of the good will it had taken me so long to earn. Occasionally, they banded together, like a pack of wolves, to give me a hard time. Lately, they’d all found reasons to nitpick at my designs. I’d happily turned down their lunch invite. “I’m glad the meeting has been postponed. I’ve still got so much work to do.”
“Well, I’ll let you get to it then. And, Ginger, I think your happy ending is just around the corner. I can feel it,” she said as she walked out of the office.
I moved the mouse and clicked on my latest project. For a brief, unexplained second, the air around my desk smelled like a fresh ocean breeze, as if I’d somehow been transported onto the deck of a ship in the middle of the sea. I took a strong second whiff, but the scent vanished. I swiveled around in my chair to see if Rory had stuck an air freshener into the plug. The outlet was empty. Obviously, my head was still in my pirate story.
As I turned back toward my computer an odd website popped up with a banner that read, “I hear you are looking for a happily ever after.”
I blinked at the words and wondered if I was actually seeing them. “What are the odds of that?” I muttered to myself and clicked the X. The banner rolled away, but a new one replaced it. It was an advertisement for a place called the Silk Stocking Inn. An early century house draped with rose vines and dotted with leaded glass appeared below the banner. It was as if the advertisement had just appeared out of thin air. “Someone has a great marketing team. And a clairvoyant one too,” I thought wryly.
I clicked my mouse feverishly moving it all around the screen trying to get rid of the website, but the gifted marketers were apparently even more genius with programming. The stately old inn, with its shawl of pink roses, stuck like glue to my monitor.
“Now that I’ve got your attention,” a text box appeared. “In one sentence, tell me what you want from a man so you can catch that elusive happy ending.”
I stared at the monitor. The glare from the afternoon sun shining in through the big window cast my own wobbly reflection in the glass. I had no idea who was on the other side asking me questions, but then they had no idea who I was either. And the question had gotten me thinking.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard a moment. My pirate story was still fresh in my mind, and I decided to have some fun with it. “I want a man who makes me his captive and at the same time treats me like his greatest treasure. And, if he’s wearing silver hoops in his ears and says things like ‘aar’ and ‘shiver me timbers’ all the better.”
“That’s two sentences. You don’t seem to be taking this too seriously. But that will change.”
It seemed I’d just been scolded by a spam marketer. The cryptic last sentence made me do a double take.
“O.K., fun is officially over.” My fingers hit the keys harder than necessary.
“No, it’s just begun. Even though you broke the one sentence rule, you took the time to answer the question, so congratulations! You have won a free weekend at the Silk Stocking Inn where every heart’s desire is filled . . . and then some.”
“No thanks.”
“Did I mention every heart’s desire?”
“You did.”
“In that case, did I mention a cozy room, deep soaking tub and an ocean view?”
“Now they’ve been mentioned, but it’s still a no. I have plans this weekend.” Of course helping my aunt pick out a new refrigerator could hardly be classified as plans, but knowing my Aunt Frida, it could take all weekend. I smiled thinking how ridiculous it was having a conversation with a complete stranger, yet I continued typing. Something about the whole exchange intrigued me. It might just have been the impossibly tenacious website that I couldn’t seem to make vanish. Or it might have been that it was a fun diversion from my usual work day.
“Then I suppose the lobster pot pies and hot buttered rum cupcakes will have to go to another guest then.”
My mouth watered just reading the words. “You should have started with lobster and cupcakes.” I sat back and stared at the screen. This was crazy. Why was I even considering this? It was obviously just a marketing ploy.
A short laugh shot from my mouth as I metaphorically patted myself on the back for not falling for it. “I’d love to keep chatting with you, but I’m a busy woman. So I’m signing off now.” Then it occurred to me I’d never actually signed on, and I had no real idea how to sign off. I reached for the power button, the last resort button as I liked to call it.
One more message flashed on the screen. “Oh come on, Gi
nger. Take a little risk. Your aunt’s refrigerator can wait. See you soon.”
I stared at the screen and went through a flurry of emotions, ranging from shock to terror to complete disbelief. Before I could catch my breath or figure out what the hell was going on the website disappeared.
I needed to stop spending my lunchtime writing fiction. My imagination seemed to be working overtime.
2
Pathetic was a good word for my social life, but I couldn’t think of a strong enough word for a social life where the weekend highlight of refrigerator shopping with an elderly aunt was cancelled because of a senior’s bingo game.
I closed the door to my office. Rory was just shutting down her computer. “I’ll walk out with you, Ginger.” She plucked her purse out of the desk drawer and scurried on her heels to catch up to me. “So where does this weekend’s big refrigerator hunt begin? Home Depot? Appliances R Us?”
I pressed the down button. “Sorry I even mentioned it. Besides, there’s no hunt. No Home Depot. Aunt Frida stood me up for bingo with her church buddies. Can’t really blame her. I mean they hand out free pretzels and honey lemon tea. Can’t beat that.”
Rory clapped her hands sharply. “Perfect. You can come to dinner with Edward and me. His cousin Paul is in town and—”
The elevator rumbled as it drew closer to our floor. “Do you mean the infamous cousin Paul, who, when he’s not picking his teeth with his fork, is staring at his reflection in the back of his spoon? No thanks. I prefer to wallow in the humiliation of being stood up by Aunt Frida.”
We stepped inside the elevator, and the doors slid shut. “You over-exaggerate. Paul is a little vain, I’ll give you that. But he’s rich.”
“Not rich enough for me to ignore his inflated head.” We walked through the lobby. It was Friday and most everyone had cleared out for the night, heading off in different directions to start their weekends after a long work week. “Where did you park?”