Falling in Love...Again
Page 1
Other books in this collection:
When Love Goes Bad
FALLING IN
LOVE
. . . AGAIN
The timeless love stories from
True Romance and True Love live on.
Edited by Barbara Weller,
Cynthia Cleveland and Nancy Cushing-Jones
A BROADLIT BOOK
BroadLit
January 2012
Published by
BroadLit ®
14011 Ventura Blvd.
Suite 206 E
Sherman Oaks, CA 91423
Copyright © 2001, 2005-2007, 2012 BroadLit, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-578-09847-0
Produced in the United States of America.
Visit us online at www.TruLOVEstories.com
This collection is dedicated to all of you who are looking for true love or have already found it.
FALLING IN
LOVE
. . . AGAIN
From Losers to a Leading Man
THE UNEXPECTED PACKAGES OF LOVE
After bad dates that included burping contests and a Three Stooges Film Festival, she’d given up on romance.
We Lust After the Couple Next Door!
LOVE THY NEIGHBOR
A wife-swapping tale of just desserts
This Gutsy, Go-Getter Won’t Be Any Man’s Fool!
HE LEFT ME CRYING IN THE CHAPEL!
Now I get my revenge. . . .
Sweet Mini-Romance
A FAMILY AFFAIR
Our romantic love reunion was bound to happen—and make both our “fractured” families wonderfully complete!
Making a Bid for Love
THE BACHELOR AUCTION
Who will bid $100 for the service of this young man?
When a Lover Dies
CAN YOU HAVE A SECOND CHANCE AT LIFE?
After 4 years, I still awoke with a feeling of dread.
Give Romance a Shot!
IN LOVE WITH MY NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR
He’s cute—and close! But can I trust him?
From The Celebrated True Love Wacky-Ways-To-Meet-Men Files!
A TICKET TO HAPPINESS
Getting pulled over by a hunky police officer is the best thing that ever happened to me!
Joker’s Wild!
AN APRIL FOOL
Who’s laughing now?
A Better Man
FORGET-ME-NOT
Some loves last a lifetime—true love lasts forever!
A Snapshot of Love
CAPTURE THE MOMENT
We met due to a freak mishap . . . and seized the opportunity to mend our lives
One Hell of a Slugger
HOME RUN
Payback improves her batting average and her love life
City Girl Goes Wild
FOURTH OF JULY FIREWORKS
Call the fire department! Her heart is burning!
Tee for Two
LOVE . . . THE SECOND TIME AROUND
I thought I’d die alone with my grief—until a very persistent suitor flirted his way into my heart!
From Losers to a Leading Man
THE UNEXPECTED PACKAGES OF LOVE
After bad dates that included burping contests and a Three Stooges Film Festival, she’d given up on romance.
“Men are pigs.”
After my latest dating disaster, the name-calling was more than justified, and, to be perfectly honest, I thought I was being quite charitable by referring to the latest loser as merely a pig.
I dropped my backpack on the floor, toed off my shoes, and sank onto the blue-striped, overstuffed sofa in the off-campus apartment I shared with my best friend.
“They’re the slime on top of a stagnant pond. They’re pocket lint. They’re like parking spaces: all the good ones are always taken. They’re—”
“Nicole? Is that you?”
My roommate interrupted my tirade as she emerged from the bathroom where she was obviously primping for a late Friday-night date. Her ebony hair was twisted around a mass of hot rollers, and she had her left eyelash crimped in a metal curler. At five feet ten inches, she was my total opposite. In my bare feet, I stood at five feet and a smile, with honey blonde hair cut in a short bob. Last year, I’d finally taken the plunge and ditched my wire rimmed glasses in favor of tinted contacts that enhanced my green eyes.
“You’re going to blind yourself with that contraption one day,” I cautioned. I grabbed the television remote, stabbed at the power button, and surfed through an endless series of “tell-all” shows.
“Bad date last night?” she asked, picking up on my lousy mood.
I gave her a “no kidding” look and rolled my eyes dramatically. “Mimi, it was beyond bad. It was beyond dreadful. It was approaching nuclear disaster.”
I muted the sound and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. “Why can’t I just meet a nice guy with table manners who can talk about something besides himself? Is that too much to ask?” I flopped back on the sofa and released a huge sigh.
“Nope, that’s not too much to ask at all.” She carefully released the eyelash curler and dropped it onto the small dining table against the wall of our combination dining/living room. “Maybe if you’d just—”
“Just what?” I gave her a look that would have blistered paint. “Lower my standards? Recognize spitting as an acceptable method of social interaction between males? Enjoy wrestling matches?”
Mimi’s mouth gaped in shock. “Did Freddy Jenson take you to a wrestling match?”
“Yes, he did. And I think those two sat in front of us.” I pointed to the television and indicated a group of scantily clad women engaged in a catfight. “Oh, look, there’s our waitress from the Pancake Shack. I recognize her tattoo.”
“I’m trying to be serious, Nicole. You don’t have to lower your standards. You just need to understand that love can come in unexpected packages.” Mimi reached up, pulled a roller from her hair, and set it beside the eyelash curler.
“Such as?” I was eager to hear her suggestions since my own efforts at meeting men had led me to believe that I was a serious loser magnet.
“The lobby of the veterinary school building? It takes brains to be a vet,” she offered.
I shook my head. “That’s where I met Barney Larson. He took me to watch bulls being castrated.” I shuddered at the recollection of that evening, which was forever etched in my brain.
“Eeewww.” Mimi made a face and continued pulling curlers from her head to release long curly strands of hair. “Then how about the music building? Some of those guys are really cute.”
“Two words: Gregorian chants.”
“Huh?” Mimi scrunched her nose and then shook her head, dark curls falling around her shoulders.
“The campus radio station?”
“I tried that. I spent an entire Saturday night listening to a guy record himself announcing the station’s call letters.”
“Then I guess I won’t suggest the ca
mpus television station,” she said.
“How kind of you.”
“Then how about fraternity row? Or the theater department?” She ticked off her suggestions on her fingers.
“Have you ever been to a burping contest? Or a Three Stooges film festival?” Memories of a drunken frat boy belching the tune to “YMCA” slid into my brain and right back out. “Mimi, I know you mean well, but you’re incorrigible. Face it; I’m destined to be single.”
“Incorrigible, huh? Is that good or bad?”
I was tempted to throw my shoe at her, but I settled for a sofa cushion instead. She grabbed it in midair. “One more idea. Hear me out, okay?” she pleaded.
“Like I have a choice?”
“Patrick and I are going to the Save the Planet festival on campus tomorrow. Why don’t you come with us?”
“Ooohh! A third-wheel pity date.” I slumped deeper into the sofa and picked the lint off a cushion. “That’ll be fun.”
Mimi sat on the coffee table directly in front of me. “You know that Patrick and I never think of you that way. Come on, we’ll have a great time.”
“Right.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. Mimi and I were best friends and loved each other like sisters, but I didn’t want to be dragged along on her date just so she wouldn’t feel guilty. “I can just imagine who I’d meet at an environmental festival. Those guys are into composting and recycling, and they look like Albert Einstein reincarnated.”
I stood and turned toward my bedroom. “Thanks anyway, Mimi. I’m going to pile up in bed with a good book and try to forget last night ever happened.”
Then Mimi played her trump card. “We have an extra ticket to the concert. That jazz band you like so much is playing.” She pulled the ticket from the back pocket of her jeans and waved it at me. “It’s yours if you want it.”
I spread a plaid blanket under a tall oak and decided to enjoy the festival atmosphere. I had tried to fill my day with chores and studying, but by three o’clock I admitted to myself that I had failed miserably. After glancing at the concert ticket numerous times, I finally capitulated and rushed to make the four o’clock start time.
As the band began its warm-up, I stretched out and gazed overhead at the cotton candy clouds. A head suddenly blocked my view, but the sun made it impossible to distinguish if it belonged to a man or a woman.
“Is this spot taken?”
Definitely a man—a man with a baritone voice that made my insides melt like chocolate left in the sun. When I tried to answer, I realized that my voice had melted too, and all I could do was shake my head.
He spread his windbreaker on the ground beside me and plopped onto it.
“I’m Rafe Shoreham,” he said, offering his hand.
Yes you are. A lock of dark hair drooped over his forehead and his espresso-colored eyes stared straight into my soul.
“And you are?”
Oh dear heavens, the man had turned my brains to mush. “I’m Nicole,” I stammered and took his proffered hand.
“Nice to meet you, Nicole. Are you enjoying the festival?”
“It’s been…interesting.” I didn’t want to appear negative just in case he was a die-hard environmentalist. “Um…have you done any composting lately?”
“Nope, never tried it.”
“Recycling?”
He leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his long legs. “I have one of those blue bins if that’s what you mean.” There was a trace of laughter in his voice.
I studied him closely. He certainly didn’t look like Einstein, and he’d just admitted that composting wasn’t on his to-do list. Score one for the mystery man.
“I have to admit, I’m not really into this save the earth stuff,” he confessed. “Oh, I do my part. I use that blue bin I mentioned, and I drive an economy car. I turn off lights when I leave the room, and just last week I bought some recycled trash bags. But I haven’t done any organic gardening lately. Couldn’t do much if I wanted to since I have a black thumb anyway.” He raised his hand, wiggled his thumb and winked at me. “I just came for the concert. I graduated last year and I’m back here in Raleigh on a recruiting trip for my employer. I thought this might be a nice change of pace from my hotel room.”
“Me, too,” I admitted. “A change, that is, not a recruiting trip. I’m a senior.”
“So you’ll be graduating next month?” He plucked a blade of grass and stuck it between the most luscious lips I’d ever seen on a man.
“I wish. I’m in accounting and it’s a five-year program. I have another year after this.”
“Good choice. Every company needs a good accountant; you shouldn’t have any trouble finding a job.”
Silence threatened to settle between us and I smiled at him awkwardly. After months of dating the absolute worst of the worst, here was a man who had a sense of humor, didn’t seem hung up on himself, and hadn’t burped once. I wanted to get to know him a little better. “So…where’s home?”
“Dallas. How ’bout you?”
Just my luck. I’d met a real contender for Mr. Right and instead he was Mr. Thousand-Miles-Away. But before I could answer, the music started, and we were both absorbed in the soothing jazz melodies.
When the last notes had died away, Rafe stood and pulled himself to his full six-foot height. He extended a hand and helped me to my feet.
He gave me a sheepish grin and kicked at the grass with the toe of his boot. “I know we just met, but would you like to go somewhere for dinner? I noticed that the vendors here are only serving stuff like soy burgers and sprouts, and I gotta tell you, that won’t cut it for a boy from Texas.”
An hour later, we were chatting over steaming plates of pasta at Nick’s Bistro, a cozy Italian restaurant a few blocks away. Rafe was so easy to talk to, and by the time we’d finished the last bites of a to-die-for tiramisu, I felt as if I’d known him forever. I wanted to spend more time with this intriguing man, yet a little voice in the back of my head kept reminding me that in another week he would be gone and I’d be back to the usual college boys.
After Rafe walked me to my door and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek that same little voice had calmed down a bit, and was telling me I should enjoy Rafe’s company while it lasted.
Didn’t I deserve this after months of dating disasters? As I slept that night, my dreams were filled with images of a tall handsome cowboy who drove a compact sedan instead of riding a horse, and wrangled computers rather than cattle. When Rafe called the next day and invited me to lunch and an afternoon movie matinee, I jumped at the chance to spend more time with the man of my dreams.
Man of my dreams? Where on earth had that come from? We’d known each other less than twenty-four hours and already I was thinking in terms of happily ever after. I gave myself a good mental shake, and convinced myself that my reaction to Rafe was simply a matter of contrast. Compared to all the college jerks I’d been dating, Rafe was a dream man. And soon the dream would end, so I’d better not get too attached.
After lunching on hot dogs from a street vendor, we drove to the theater complex where I fully expected him to hustle me into the latest crime drama or action-adventure film. I was left speechless when he asked for two tickets to a popular new romantic comedy.
“Hey, I’m in touch with my feminine side,” he offered, undoubtedly in response to my surprised look. Then he winked and added, “When I came to pick you up today, Mimi told me you’ve been itching to see this because you have the hots for the leading man.”
“I do not!” I felt a blush creep up my neck and swatted playfully at his arm. “Okay, I’ll admit that I have wanted to see it, but you’d probably rather see that film about the international spy ring, so why don’t we just—”
“Why don’t we get a bucket of popcorn, a couple of sodas, and just watch two people fall in love?” He gently took me by the elbow and led me toward the concessions stand.
He stole another little piece of my heart at that moment, and I knew that whe
n he returned to Texas it would be the most miserable day of my life. But I would survive, just like I’d survived all the bad dates in my life. I’d just have wonderful memories of this one instead of regrets.
The movie proved to be even better than the reviewers had indicated, but I didn’t fawn over the leading man like I normally did. How could I when I had a man just as handsome and oh-so-caring right beside me?
That night, Rafe gave me more than a chaste kiss. When we stood outside my apartment door, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against mine. My legs felt like rubber and my pulse pounded like a thundering herd of cattle. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I parted them slightly and met his tongue with mine. A jolt of electricity sizzled right through my body, and when I opened my eyes to look at Rafe, I saw that his eyes had darkened with desire.
Putting both hands on his chest, I pushed myself away. It was too soon for this kind of spark between us. We’d just met the day before, and here I was ready to suck his tongue out of his mouth.
“Um…we need…I need to take this slow,” I said in response to the puzzled look on his face. “I…I.…”
I was aware that Rafe traveled frequently with his job, and I was most likely just one of many girls in many ports. I didn’t want to get involved in a relationship that was destined to end in heartache. But that didn’t stop my body from reacting to him in a decidedly lustful manner.
He took both my hands in his and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. The look in his eyes told me that he understood.
“Sleep tight Nicole,” he said, turning my insides to mush.
Monday morning brought a return to the routine and to my heavy schedule of classes, but the day was anything but ordinary because I couldn’t stop daydreaming about Rafe during class. He was far more intriguing than tax codes. Yet, despite my attraction to him, I dawdled on my way home from my last class afraid he might call and ask me out again.
Why was I so confused? I’d been lamenting my status as a loser magnet, yet here I had a real winner and I was avoiding him. If he called, would I go out with him again?