by Curry, Edna
“I’m proud of the way you made it through college anyway,” Cal said. “Lots of people would have given up. But not my Tami. You may think you’re a city gal, but you have a country girl’s guts and stamina,” he assured her.
Tami looked up, surprised to see pride in his eyes. Cal was proud of her? “I do?”
“Yes. And I’m sure everyone else out here will think so, too. Working your way up in spite of difficulties is something to be proud of, Tami, not ashamed of.”
“Thanks. You're not mad at me?”
"Of course not."
With a satisfied smile, she cuddled closer, swaying contentedly to the slow music. She couldn't believe his answer.
If only this wonderful feeling of togetherness could last. But tomorrow would come and she’d have to leave. She pushed the painful thought away, feeling like Cinderella at the ball. Enjoy the moment, because it would all end after midnight. Or whenever he dropped her off at Aunt Cora’s.
They danced almost every dance together, as though he dreaded being separated as much as she did.
When the band finally stopped playing, everyone began saying goodbye. They all promised each other to keep in touch, exchanging business cards.
When the room was empty except for the restaurant staff, Tami and Cal helped Linda take down their memory board.
“Do we have everything?” Tami asked.
“I think so,” Linda said. “Are you going back to Minneapolis right away?”
Tami nodded. “In the morning. Keep in touch.”
Linda hugged her. “I will. Thanks for helping. Goodnight.”
Cal’s heart tightened as they walked out to his car. She was leaving in the morning. It might be another ten years before he saw her again. Was he fool enough to let her go a second time?
True, now he had Bobby to think of, besides himself. But she was great with him. Bobby had even come up with the idea she could be his new mother on his own. They could live anywhere as long as they were happy. But living alone was no fun. No, he wouldn’t let her go again.
On the way home, tension crackled between them. Cal could think of nothing to say that would change her mind. He pulled off on a side road and stopped the car.
“Lover’s lane?” Tami asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We need to talk.”
“Talk?”
“About this,” he said. He unsnapped their seat belts and pulled her into his arms. She melted against him willingly and her mouth opened to his kisses. He’d never get enough of her if he lived to be a hundred. His hands wouldn’t stop exploring her and she returned his kisses willingly.
Her hands were pulling at his clothes until he leaned back to quickly shed them. He didn’t want to stop at kissing and petting and was thrilled she didn’t either.
He struggled to find a way to fit them together on the narrow pickup seat. Finally he lay back and pulled her on top, cuddling her bare, full breasts in his hands.
He leaned up and teased their tight buds with his lips and tongue. She pulled his head back up and kissed him again and again, running her tongue around until he felt ready to explode.
He reached down between them and slid a finger inside her. She moaned, wet, hot and ready.
She reached down and pulled his hand away, then guided his tight cock inside her instead.
“Oh, yes, Cal! That feels good.”
It took only a few thrusts to bring them both to heights of pleasure. They lay together, tightly entwined, catching their breath, then reluctantly separated and dressed again.
He had to take her home now. He couldn’t stand the evening to end. He sat behind the wheel, then turned to her. Pain echoed through his voice. “I love you, Tami. Don’t leave me again.”
“Oh, Cal.” Her voice was hoarse with pain.
He reached over and cuddled her close again. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll take a city job and sell my stuff here. Move wherever you want. If you’ll only marry me.”
She pulled back and stared at him. “You’d really do that for me?”
He nodded. “I should have, ten years ago. Loving you is more important than where we live. I know that now.”
She smiled and nodded. “I know that, too, Cal. That’s why I can’t let you do that.”
Pain stabbed at him. She’d said no again. Could he survive losing her a second time?
Sighing, he dropped his arms in defeat.
But she was smiling as though she was very happy.
“Conley means too much to you and Bobby. It’s your home and mine too. I’ll come out here to live, Cal,” she said. “I can do freelance writing anywhere.”
"But what about your promotion and your job?"
"That's not half as important to me as you are."
His jaw dropped. “Does that mean you’re saying ‘yes’?”
“Yes, Cal.” She nodded.
“Are you sure?” He hesitated, afraid to believe she really meant it this time.
“Oh, yes. I’m sure I want to marry you.”
He hugged her close and kissed her again. “That’s wonderful. And we’ll have a house again, someday. When the insurance money comes through and I get back on my feet a bit.”
“Of course we will. But first, you need to get your business going again. The trailer will be fine, for now.”
He swallowed and sighed thankfully. “I love, you, Tami.”
“Do you think Bobby will mind having me for a stepmother?” Tami asked worriedly.
“Mind?” Cal asked. “It was his idea, remember?”
“I remember. I also remember seeing you frown when he said that.”
“Frown? Not me!” Cal said, and kissed her again. “I’m as agreeable as a Teddy Bear.”
She tipped her head back and grinned at him. “Does that mean you’ll be my cuddly bed partner?”
“Sure thing. Any time.”
The End.
(This book was formerly published by Class Act Books.)
###
About the author:
Edna Curry lives in MN and often sets her novels there among the lakes, evergreens and river valleys. She especially enjoys the Dalles area of the St. Croix Valley, gateway to the Wild River, which draws many tourists who give her story ideas. Besides short stories and non-fiction articles, she writes mystery, romance and romantic suspense novels.
Edna is married and is a member of the Romance Writers of America and four of its chapters: Midwest Fiction Writers, KOD, WISRWA and Northern Lights Writers.
Circle of Shadows (half of Deadly Duos #1) was a finalist in RWA’s prestigious Golden Heart Contest.
Visit her webpage at http://www.ednacurry.com
Recent or upcoming books:
My Sister’s Keeper by Edna Curry
Mirror Image by Edna Curry
Traveling Bug by Edna Curry
Dead Man’s Image by Edna Curry
Circle of Shadows by Edna Curry
Yesterday’s Shadow by Edna Curry
4/2010 Secret Daddy by Edna Curry Whiskey Creek Press
8/2010 Best Friends by Edna Curry Class Act Books
10/2010 Bear Trap by Edna Curry Class Act Books
7/2010 Runaway Mom by Edna Curry Red Rose Publishing
2/2011 Double Trouble by Edna Curry Class Act Books
5/2011 Dead in Bed by Edna Curry Whiskey Creek Press
8/15/2011 I’ll Always Find You by Edna Curry Whiskey Creek Press/Torrid
10/2011 Never Love a Logger by Edna Curry Whiskey Creek Press
8-2012 Meet Me, Darling by Edna Curry Melange-Books
http://preview.tinyurl.com/3vmf4ue
***
Never Love a Logger by Edna Curry
Never Love a Logger by Edna Curry
Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
Genre: Historical
Length: Full Length (329 pgs)
Heat Level: sensual
Rating: 4 books
Reviewed by Aloe
A historical romance set ag
ainst the background of the largest log jam ever that occurred in 1886 on the St. Croix River at Taylors Falls, MN. It depicts life in the logging days with lots of detail about the lives of people during that time.
What happens when a rough and ready logger who wants no responsibility and thinks he doesn’t deserve a second chance at love falls for an attractive lady with a ready made family?
Will and Carrie think there is no chance for them to have a family of their own. Each has reasons to avoid love and entanglements. Will is burned out on responsibility after helping his widowed mother raise his siblings after his wife and infant son died. Carrie thinks no man will want her and her brother. She promised her father she’d raise her brother. While she’s attracted to Will, duty comes first.
She’s a young woman raising her younger brother and he’s a widower who owns a logging company. She’s attracted to him, but her Aunt warns her that loggers just love ‘em and then leave ‘em…
Ms. Curry does a very nice job of describing logging life back in 1886 on the St. Croix River. I grew up in the state of Washington and visited a lot of logging camps and exhibits. It made it easy for me to visualize the saws they used and the pikes for moving the logs. My father-in-law still had his spiked boots. Life was different then. Everything was done by manpower or with horses. The author’s description of the life and times of the loggers and how they impacted towns is very accurate and authentic.
Carrie is aware that at 21 she’s turning into an old maid. But she hasn’t found the man who makes her blood race faster and besides, who’s going to take her as a wife when she has her young brother, Tom, to care for? All Will wants to do is get away in the woods and forget about how life was and what he lost.
The author takes two wounded beings and starts their relationship with a near collision outside the tavern. Will gets knocked out of the tavern and almost falls on Carrie. From there, Ms. Curry takes them on the slow dance of courtship. It’s fraught with potholes. They are both working and haven’t much time together. Other people are vying for their attention. Then there is Carrie’s Aunt’s warning ringing in her head. And he will go home and will only return for the fall logging again. What hope is there?
This author entertains you with a good solid story that keeps you reading as you wait to see what happens next in the fragile relationship between the two main characters. It’s a very good historical romance that I enjoyed reading. Why not get a copy and see what you think?
***
Dead Man’s Image
By Edna Curry
Lacey Summer’s Mystery #2
Copyright 2001 by Edna Curry
________________________________________
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is a work of fiction. All names in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the author, except for short excerpts for reviews.
Smashwords Edition.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
***________________________________________
Table of Contents
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three
Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six
Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen
About the Author
________________________________________
Chapter One
Paul Menns entered the crowded truck stop for a bite to eat and coffee. A delicious mixture of food aromas met his nose, and the warmth of the cafe felt wonderful after working outdoors in the chilly spring air. He sat down at the counter, wrapped his long legs around the base of the stool and placed his order.
Picking up the Minneapolis Star-Tribune from the end of the counter, he scanned the headlines, then turned to the Metro section. For a long, confused moment, Paul thought he was looking at his reflection. That looks like me. What is my picture doing in the paper? Then he read the caption through bleary eyes and realized it was a computer image, not a photo. It was someone the police were looking for --a sketch made from an eyewitness's description of a murder suspect. What the hell?
Reading further, Paul discovered a body had been found upriver. The unidentified dead man was white, about thirty-five, six feet tall, a hundred and ninety pounds, brown eyes and hair, and had no ID, scars or tattoos. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he reached up to rub them. Jeez, the description of the dead guy sounds even more like me. This is weird.
A creepy feeling slid up his back and he wondered if others in the room would notice how much he looked like the guy in the paper. He didn't like this at all. The waitress set his plate of toast in front of him and refilled his coffee cup. Now he imagined she was looking at him strangely. Or was he the one who was acting strange?
He pulled his cap down farther over his eyes and stared at the picture as he downed the toast without tasting it. The more he looked at the paper, the more sure he became that the sketch was a picture of him. The cops thought he was a murderer! Who in the hell was he supposed to have killed? And who was this woman who had described him? Did he know her? He gulped the rest of his coffee and pushed his cup away.
His first instinct was to go to the sheriff's office and tell the sheriff he was nuts, that he hadn't killed anyone, so there couldn't be any evidence against him.
On the other hand, the sheriff had this eyewitness. If she stuck to her story, he'd end up in jail for a while. He couldn't be off the road very long or his trucking business would be ruined.
He wondered how he could find out who the dead guy was. Getting an idea, he paid his bill and went out to the pay phone in the café entrance. After finding the police department's number, he dialed it, then looked in the newspaper again for the name in the article's byline.
When a woman answered, he said, "This is Johnson, again, from the Tribune. Have you identified yesterday's murder victim yet?"
"Yes, sir, we have. It's Paul Menns, of Canton, Minnesota."
Paul almost dropped the phone. He swallowed, and tried to keep his voice even. He couldn't have heard her correctly. "Can you spell that name for me, please?"
She did, and he closed his eyes against the welling shock and disbelief. Good Grief, I'm supposed to be dead! He brought himself back to attention when the woman said impatiently, "Will there be anything else, sir?"
He thought fast, then stammered, "Uh, yes. Was that a positive ID? I mean, uh, who identified the body?"
"A Mrs. Anderson called first thing this morning. She's the manager of the apartment house where Mr. Menns lived in Canton. She claims to have known him well."
"Thanks." Paul hung up with trembling fingers. His own landlady had identified that body as his. How could that be? He hardly ever saw Mrs. Anderson, of course, but surely she knew him well enough to know this other guy wasn't him. She must have seen the sketch in the paper and come forward. Hadn't she seen him in her building just a couple hours ago? Or heard his truck when he drove away? This is so mixed up. How can I be the murderer and the dead guy, too?
Paul felt a headache coming on as he tried to sort it all out. He needed help with this. And he certainly couldn't go to the cops. He didn't trust those guys at all. They'd probably believe the damn birdwatcher lady instead of him.
He picked up the phone book again and looked up private investigators. Not much choice.
The yellow pages covered several small towns in the area, but listed only one private investigator.
***
Standing at the window of her home office, sipping hot coffee, Lacey stared out over the Minnesota lake surrounded by tall evergreens. Sunshine sparkled off the blue water and a breeze stirred up enough waves to slap the shore. They made her little fishing boat bounce where she'd tied it at her dock. Living here in the woods a few miles from town isolated her, but she loved it.
The phone rang and she went quickly back to her desk. She steeled herself not to pick it up on the first ring, not wanting to appear too anxious. "Summers' Investigations."
"Let me talk to the investigator."
"Speaking." Why did people always assume she was only the receptionist?
"You are? A woman investigator?" The deep voice at the other end of the line registered surprise and dismay.
Great, she finally got a possible client and he was a male chauvinist. She reminded herself that she hadn't had any cases except snooping on a couple of cheating husbands for weeks. She was broke and needed the business. That was the trouble with working in a small town like Landers. They were great to live in, but the money wasn't always so hot.
Trying her best to keep the irritation out of her voice, she said, "That's right. I'm Lacey Summers, a licensed private investigator. How can I help you?"
"I'm Paul Menns. I want to hire you to investigate something for me."
"What kind of something?"
He was silent a moment, then said, "The sheriff had my picture in the paper this morning. Maybe you saw it? The guy that woman saw dumping the body by the St. Croix?"