Once Upon a Valentine

by Stephanie Bond

  His gaze bore deeply into hers. “You know how the fairy tale ended, right?”

  “The fairy tale?”

  “‘The Gingerbread Man.’ Everyone wanted the delicious gingerbread man, chased him all over town, because they wanted to eat him. He ran from them all—none of them could catch him. It wasn’t until he found the fox, who promised that he’d keep the cookie safe, that he stopped running. But the fox was a liar. The fox is the one who ended up devouring the gingerbread man.”

  Why this tale only made her hotter, she wasn’t totally sure. Devouring had taken on a whole new meaning to her tonight. It wasn’t something bad, dangerous. It was obsession, it was desire, it was…love.

  “I want you to catch me,” she whispered as he slowly pushed himself into her an inch at a time. Slowly, slowly, until he filled her completely. And then, without any more to say, he began to move inside of her, making her world narrow once more to only include him. Only Stephen inside of her, making love to her, only the bed against her back. Only the spicy and familiar smell of him, only the addictive taste of his lips, his tongue, as he devoured her mouth with a kiss that confirmed that this was right, so right. She never wanted anyone to catch her again. Only Stephen. Again and again.

  It wasn’t long at all before his thrusts became harder, deeper. She clung to him, her arms around his shoulders, her fingers pushing up into his silky hair. His hands came to her back and he lifted her up off the mattress, so she clung to him, her legs wrapped around his waist as she felt the slide of him in and out of her. Then, in one final, deep thrust that made another orgasm shatter her entire world, Stephen called out her name before they both crashed back down to the mattress.

  His breath came fast and she felt his heart thunder against her as she held on to him tightly.

  “So…” Stephen said after a minute.

  “So.”

  He propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down at her. He brushed a lock of red hair off her forehead. “That was…nice.”

  She glared up at him and tried not to smile. “That was better than nice and you know it, Mr. Fox.”

  “I didn’t want to let it go to your head, Ms. Redman.”

  “Too late.” She drew his face closer to hers and kissed him, long and deep and perfect.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered.

  “Best one ever.” After another kiss, she brushed past him and got up from the bed. He eyed her warily and there was the slightest edge of doubt in his gaze.

  “You’re not leaving me already, are you?”

  “No, not quite yet.” She cast a sly grin over her shoulder. “I’m kind of hungry.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I think Jorgensen said something about ordering room service.” She strolled, naked, to the cart the busboy rolled in earlier, feeling his appreciative gaze heavy on her. She lifted the silver, domed lids from on top of the food.

  “Steak, lobster and a baked potato,” she announced.

  “Better eat it before it gets too cold. That is costing me a fortune.”

  “Not really in the mood for that.” She lifted the other lid and picked up the bowl underneath, swirling her finger into the fluffy whipped cream and bringing it to her mouth so she could lick it off. Her gaze flicked to him, where he lay propped up on the bed. The look of arousal on his face was absolutely priceless. She forced herself not to laugh. “I feel more like dessert.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Ginger ignored the strawberries, the steak and the lobster. She returned to his side and dabbed a little of the whipped cream on his chest and leaned forward to lick it off. He groaned.

  “Just as delicious as I thought you’d be,” she told him with a wicked grin.

  She wanted whipped cream, lots of it, all over the man she craved more than any other.

  She was ready to take back what she’d decided earlier. Valentine’s Day didn’t suck at all. It was now her very favorite holiday.

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, just after six o’clock, Ginger woke in Stephen’s arms. Very carefully, after gazing with deep appreciation at his handsome profile for a few minutes, she slipped out of bed and quickly got dressed. She was surprised how soundly he slept. He didn’t hear a thing as she left the room. She silently promised to return before he woke up.

  She had to see someone and it couldn’t wait. She wanted answers.

  The Valentine Café was open for business, but the place was empty. The door jingled as she entered and walked quickly and confidently to the counter. A few seconds later, a man came out from the back kitchen area and grinned at her.

  “Good morning,” he said. “What can I get for you?”

  “Information, actually.” She glanced around. “I’m looking for a woman who works here. She’s sixtyish with white hair. Maybe five-four. She gave me a free cookie.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “It sounds like you’re talking about my aunt, Frances Valentine.”

  “Valentine?” Ginger repeated. “So the café is named after the family, not after the holiday.”

  “That’s right. But Aunt Frances always loved Valentine’s Day. She was a true romantic.”

  “Can you tell me when she’ll be in today? I really need to talk to her.”

  He frowned. “About what?”

  “About that…that gingerbread-man cookie she gave me last night. It—” she wondered how to put it “—it did something strange.”

  “Aunt Frances gave you a strange cookie. Last night.”

  “Yes. Look, I know it sounds weird, but I need to see her.”

  “Sorry, but that’s impossible.”

  “Why?”

  It was a moment before he spoke again. “My aunt died a week ago.” He studied her. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really think you saw her last night?”

  “Yes, I saw her,” she whispered. “Spoke to her, too.”

  “And that cookie…did something strange. Good strange or bad?”

  Ginger’s mouth was dry. How was this possible? She wondered if he was lying to her, but the man’s expression was dead serious. He had no reason to lie to her. Frances Valentine was dead.

  “I thought it was bad for a while, but it turned out wonderfully.”

  “Did it help you find your true love?” he asked.

  Her eyes snapped to him. “How did you know that?”

  He smiled and then glanced around the café in a knowing way. “She’s still around. I knew it. Her spirit…her magic. Nobody ever believed her, but she had a way about her. She knew how to help people when it came to love.”

  Ginger just stared at him, stunned. “I don’t understand. How can this be possible?”

  He looked pleased, but then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Some things just can’t be explained. I say, when miraculous things happen, take them for what they are and don’t try to figure them out. If my aunt—even now—chose to help you, then be happy.”

  She opened her mouth to say something else, to ask a million more questions, but then she stopped herself. He was absolutely right.

  The spirit of Frances Valentine gave her a magic gingerbread-man cookie that led her straight to the man she loved—a man who loved her in return. All Ginger could do was gaze around the small café and offer a silent and heartfelt thank-you.

  7

  BEFORE STEPHEN OPENED his eyes, he’d have bet that this was going to be the best Wednesday of his life. Ginger and him—well, last night had been incredible. Better than his best fantasies, and over the last year, he had plenty of them starring the beautiful Ginger Redman.

  After he opened his eyes, however, things were different.

  Ginger was gone.

  “Ginger?” he called out.

  There was no reply. Her clothes were gone. Her purse was gone. She hadn’t left a note.

  He lay back down in the huge bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  She’d had second thoughts. About him. About everything. What had se
emed perfect last night in the heat of passion, had cooled off in the harsh light of day.

  For her.

  Love had an expiration date. Just like with his parents. Just like with his previous relationships. It didn’t last forever. This one, though…he’d thought…

  He’d believed.

  He didn’t want to lose hope so quickly, but his knee-jerk reaction was to protect himself. To put his shields up and to be cynical about everything. Ginger was supposed to be different. Every cell in his body had wanted to believe that she was.

  Now what was he supposed to do? Pretend it didn’t happen? Go back to being publisher and editor at the office. Good friends who had a professional relationship that spilled over a bit to their social lives. Platonically only.

  Did she honestly think that was possible now?

  Instead of agreeing that she might be right that a night of mind-blowing sex didn’t necessarily have to lead to a meaningful relationship, Stephen found that he was furious. And not with himself.

  With her.

  This wasn’t just sex. For either of them. And, damn it, he would fight till the end to prove that to her if there was any doubt in her mind.

  He pushed himself out of bed and got dressed, feeling angrier with every piece of clothing he put on. Oh, they’d be having a talk, all right. And Ginger would finally see another side of Stephen Fox—one who’d remind her with a passionate, toe-curling kiss that he was the man for her. Mr. Perfect had been in front of her all this time and she’d finally noticed him. She couldn’t deny that. And if she was afraid of what this meant—how big this could be between them—then he’d assure her that she was damn right about that. This was big. And it wasn’t something that could just be ignored. Not now. Not ever again.

  When his phone rang, he snatched it up.

  “What?” he snapped.

  “Fox? It’s Robert Jorgensen.”

  Oh, he was so not in the mood for this right now. “What do you want, Jorgensen?”

  “We need to talk about what happened last night.”

  “There’s not much to say. The remainder of your contract is scattered on the floor right now. If it wasn’t, I’d tear it up myself. You know what you are, Jorgensen? An asshole. Everybody knows it but you, but it’s the reason nobody likes you. And you know what else? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of people like you walking all over me. So here’s what I want to say about last night—you can go directly to hell.”

  There was a long silence. And then, “Finished?”

  “Not really. I could go on. And, by the way? I’ve wanted to say that for a very long time.”

  Another silence. “You’re right about me.”

  Stephen blinked. “I am?”

  “I am an asshole. But you’re wrong about one thing—I do know it. Sometimes when times are tough, we build up walls that are hard to break through. And when assholes like me are successful, nobody wants to tell them the truth. They just want to sponge off you. But not you, Fox. You tell it straight. I like that.”

  He blinked again. “You do?”

  “Yes. Now, if you’re still interested in my books, contact my agent with a new contract. I’ll sign it. Goodbye, Fox.”

  The line went dead.

  Stephen stared at his phone. “You will?”

  He’d been ready to kiss off that contract and start again from scratch. But this? This was much better.

  Maybe a little straight talk would also get through to Ginger. If it worked on Robert Jorgensen, maybe it could work on her, too.

  With this in mind, he went to the door and opened it up, shocked as hell to see Ginger on the other side.

  She looked up at him. “Oh, you’re awake already.”

  God, she looked beautiful this morning. No makeup, tangled hair and a wrinkled black dress—she was the single most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.

  “What the hell, Ginger?” he stormed. “You just leave? Just like that?”

  “I can explain.”

  “Save it. You need to listen to me. I know you think the old Stephen Fox is a bit of a pushover. A nice guy who buys cakes for his employees and pukes on ladies’ shoes when he’s had too much to drink. Well, that Stephen Fox is long gone. The new one says what he wants to say, he does what he wants to do, and he demands to be treated with respect.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is that so? And does he also talk about himself in third person?”

  “Yes, he does.” He glared at her. “You can’t just leave. Not after what happened between us. You love me. You said so yourself. If you’re scared now about what that means, don’t be. I’m not afraid of it anymore, so you shouldn’t be, either. You love me and I love you. Nothing else matters, you hear me? And if you run away, feeling overwhelmed by everything, you can damn well believe that I will follow you. We’re together now, Ginger. You and me. And I want to make love to you every day for the rest of my life. Do you have a problem with that?”

  He tensely waited for her reply.

  Ginger just stared up at him with amusement, even though her green eyes shone with tears. “Nope. No problem with that at all.”

  Her answer shocked the hell out of him. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Then where did you go?”

  She held up a brown paper bag with the Valentine Café logo on it. “I went out to get some breakfast for us.”

  “Oh.” He stared at the bag. “And my little rant just now?”

  “You want me to forget it?”

  “Might be nice.”

  She shook her head. “Not a chance. I loved every word of it. You need to give Jorgensen some of that fire. Maybe he’ll sign that contract after all.”

  He nodded slowly. “Maybe I will. Damn it, Ginger, I thought you left me.”

  “I did. But I’m back.” She shook the bag. “Bearing goodies for the man I love.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “More magic cookies?”

  She peeked inside the bag. “Eclairs. But they’re filled with whipped cream.”

  A grin spread across his face as he pulled her closer to him. “You’re as smart as you are beautiful, Ginger Redman.”

  “Somehow, Mr. Fox—” Ginger kissed him and let the bag of pastries drop to the floor so she could give him her full and complete attention “—I just knew you’d approve.”

  * * * * *

  ISBN: 9781459220454

  Copyright © 2012 by Michelle Rowen

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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