My face warmed again. “I wasn’t so sure when I didn’t hear from you earlier.”
I bit my tongue one thought too late and abruptly stood and headed to the kitchen for a caffeine refill. Now he’d think I was clingy because I expected to hear from him first thing every morning.
“That’s your fault,” Josh said.
I paused, coffee pot in hand. “My fault?”
“Did you really expect me to sleep after that phone call? I couldn’t stop thinking about you and almost slept through my alarm.”
“Good. Then we’re even,” I admitted with a smile, feeling better.
“So what are your plans for the day?” Josh asked.
“Oh, I’ve got a very exciting day ahead of me. Work, beach, shower, and bed.”
“I like the last three.” Again with the low, suggestive tone.
“Of course you do—you’re a man.” Mug full, I returned the pot to the warmer and leaned my butt against the counter while looking out my patio doors. “How about you? Normal day at the office.”
“Not exactly.”
“So what—”
My doorbell rang and Jenga started barking in the other room. She ran to the front door as I set my cup down.
“Shoot. I’m sorry, Josh, someone’s at the door.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“Well, normally I’d assume it’s my annoying neighbor come to tell me I put my trash out too early yesterday, and I’d just ignore her, but I’m expecting a contract to arrive this morning, and I really—”
“Summer,” he interrupted with a chuckle. “Go answer the door.”
“I’m going. You want to wait, or should I call you back?”
“You’ve got work...I’ll talk to you soon.”
I swallowed my disappointment and said, “Okay, bye.”
Silence greeted me and I realized he’d already hung up. Boy, that was fast. I frowned, hoping he wasn’t mad about the interruption, and shushed Jenga as I joined her at the front of my house and opened the door.
The reason for the non-goodbye stood before me in faded jeans and a snug white tee shirt that read cheese+beer+snow=Wisconsin. Frozen there on the threshold, I swear my heart almost beat from my chest. He’d actually come all the way to me.
“Hi,” he said.
I met Josh’s smiling brown eyes and grinned right back. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
“I had some vacation time to use up.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Took you long enough.”
“Did I have you guessing?”
I instinctively understood he referred not only to the phone call a moment ago, but also the fact that he’d never specifically mentioned our future. My “Yeah,” answered both questions. And I still hadn’t moved.
“Good. Then we’re even.”
Jenga brushed past my knees to check out our visitor. Josh held out his hand for her to sniff, and when he said her name, she only hesitated a moment before her ears laid back and she wagged her tail. Some people would say my dog is easy, but I knew she didn’t accept everyone so quickly.
Josh bent to stroke her head a couple times before straightening to look at me again. “I brought you a present.”
“Besides yourself?”
He smiled, but it faded fast. My heart lodged in my throat at the nervous expression on his face.
“I know it’s a little early, but finally I’m willing to risk it.”
Mystified by that cryptic statement, I watched him lift up a tee-shirt for me to read.
Someone in Wisconsin loves me.
Everything blurred around me except Josh. I raised my gaze to meet his and the emotion in his eyes assured me the shirt was no light-hearted joke. In one blink, joy flooded through me. All my worry evaporated and I was so glad I’d managed—barely—to be patient.
I took the shirt from his hands and tossed it over one shoulder. “As risky as it may be, someone in Florida loves you, too.”
His smile returned, brighter than the Florida sun. At that moment, I noticed my nosey neighbor watering her flowers, her narrowed eyes zoomed in on us across the courtyard. I reached forward, fisted one hand in Josh’s shirt and dragged him forward for a kiss.
As our lips met, I wrapped my arms around his neck and plastered my body to his. See how Mrs. Baker liked that. She’d complained a couple times about the newlyweds two doors down from me, but I think she was just jea—
Josh’s mouth opened on mine, his tongue skimming along the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. Mmm... I angled my head, opening to his hot exploration as he slid his palms across my hips, up my back, and then down to my butt. Fire ignited in the wake of his touch and spread through my entire body. I felt him dip down, and then his strong arms lifted me to wrap my legs around his waist.
From this new angle, I was able to deepen the kiss on my terms. I put the last five days of missing him into that kiss and moments later, his deep groan gave me butterflies in my stomach. I tilted my head back as his lips moved from my mouth to my neck, and then lower along the neckline of my tank top.
“We better take this inside,” he rasped.
A light breeze blew across my heated skin and I finally remembered where we were and Mrs. Baker. Glancing over Josh’s shoulder, I saw she was now watering her sidewalk instead of the flowers. Hah!
I palmed Josh’s face and rested my forehead against his as I whispered, “Ask me again what my plans are for the day.”
“What are your plans for the day?” he asked with a sexy little grin.
“Bed, beach, shower and bed.”
Josh laughed and lifted his chin for a quick kiss as he carried me into my condo. “I love the sound of all of that.”
“I figured you would.”
We almost didn’t make it to the beach, but Jenga was insistent. Good thing, too, because I found my delivery package leaning against my front door, but never heard the doorbell after Josh arrived.
And...well, that about covers it.
The End
Oh, wait...I suppose you’re wondering if Josh ever invited me back to the Dairy State.
Yes, he did, and while I was there, he promised in front of God and everyone to never ditch me again—yes, he actually said that in his vows—till death do us part.
And every day in Wisconsin he shows me at least one positive for the state that sometimes gets snow in May. No, I don’t bother to let him know I’m more than convinced...I just enjoy his imaginative demonstrations.
JOSH and SUMMER
Josh: Hi. We just wanted to say thank you for reading both sides of our story. We had fun telling it—(grins and winks)—lots of fun. Stacey Joy Netzel is a good friend of ours and if you enjoyed yourself up to this point, you should take a look at her other books.
Summer: Seriously. Her Colorado Trust Series is especially good—in fact, after I read Trust In The Lawe, I convinced Josh exactly where we should go for our honeymoon. (smiles at Josh) Though it didn’t take much.
Josh (laughing): Stacey told us about the cabins in Estes Park, Colorado and Summer looked them up. When she read out loud that they have their own private hot tubs with a view of the Rocky Mountains, she pretty much had me at ‘private hot-tubs’.
“Attention passengers, AirTran Air flight 642 with service from Milwaukee to Denver is now boarding all rows.”
Summer: Oh—that’s us! I’m really sorry, but we have to go. Josh, you got that bag?
Josh: Yeah, hon, I got it. (walking backwards after Summer) Listen, sorry we’ve gotta run, but if you do decide to read any more of Stacey’s work, we really hope you enjoy. Take care.
Summer (waving from the door): Bye!
Dragonfly Dreams
by
Stacey Joy Netzel
(back to top)
Can a family connection to the ill-fated Titanic bring new hope to sinking dreams?
With his antique shop on the brink of bankruptcy, Jake Coburn knows he shouldn’t buy costume jewelry at a pr
ice that won’t turn a profit. Then again, it’s Christmas, and he hasn’t been able to say no to Loral Evan’s since the first time she entered his shop.
Desperation is what drives Loral Evans to sell precious family heirlooms, but Jake’s offer of one thousand dollars for a dragonfly brooch she knows is fake stings her pride. If only she could afford to walk away from the handsome antique dealer.
During a season of giving, Loral learns there’s a big difference between pride and dignity, and Jake’s determination to do the right thing brings rewards beyond what either of them ever dreamed of.
***What reviewers are saying:
Got Romance Holiday Reviews~ 5 Stars ~ “I sincerely adored this story. Dragonfly Dreams smacks of Gift of the Magi while remaining original, heartwarming, and honestly lovely. Dragonfly Dreams sucked me in and held me from start to finish. Jake is sweet, kind, and noble – everything a true romantic hero should be. Loral, on the other hand, is tough yet vulnerable and adorable – the perfect heroine. I give this the highest rank because I would read it again and again.”~ Becca
Night Owl Reviewer Top Pick ~ “Ms. Netzel penned a remarkable ending that totally surprised me and she masterfully tied all the loose ends up for each one of her characters. This is a charming tale that blended strength, hope and love into one fantastic story.” ~ Diana Coyle
Dedication:
To my mom, Judy, whose love of collectible costume jewelry, and antiques in general, inspired this story. Thank you for all your support. It means the world to me!
I love you, Mom.
Chapter One
The sound of the muted chimes told Jake Coburn a customer had entered the shop. Thank God, a distraction. With a little finesse, maybe even a sale. Anything to ease the pressure of the bank and Robert, though his accountant brother was the more aggressive of the two.
Jake slowly folded the financial statement he’d been reviewing and tucked it into the Antique Trader Furniture Price Guide laying on the counter. Then he shifted his stance for a clear view of the potential savior headed his way.
Loral Evans.
His pulse kicked up a notch and his entire body came alive at the sight of her. She strode toward him, her shiny brunette curls bouncing lightly from her face with each step. He’d give just about anything to run his fingers through them, feel the silkiness as he inhaled the refreshing lavender scent that teased his senses during each of her visits. Only problem was, he had a strong suspicion once would never be enough.
God, he loved watching her. At the same time, he dreaded seeing her walk through his doors because it meant she needed money. Again.
Aqua blue eyes remained serious even though her lips curved into a smile. “Hey, Jake.”
“Loral.” He forced his gaze from her face to glance at his watch. Ten minutes until closing time. “Little late to be seeing you.”
A shadow darkened her eyes before she shrugged a slim shoulder and dipped her hand into the pocket of her brown corduroy coat. The fabric was so worn in places he found it hard to believe it even kept her warm. Yet another indication of her apparent dire straights.
Tonight she didn’t take the time for pleasantries, ask how things were going, or even wish him Merry Christmas. Instead she simply withdrew a velvet pouch and his gaze dropped to watch her lay out five pieces of jewelry on the glass counter next to his book. A vibrant kaleidoscope of blue, green and red colors gleamed in the strategically placed overhead lighting.
Jake’s chest constricted and drawing a breath became painful with the memory of how his mother had obsessed over the positioning of the counter until it was just right. And it was, showcasing Loral’s small jewelry collection to perfection. In the light, one particular piece commanded his attention; a dragonfly brooch set in platinum. Blue sapphires and emeralds adorned the edges of the intricately latticed wings; rubies made up the long body; and, two diamonds glittered as eyes.
In a word: stunning.
Previously, she’d brought him rare green and pink Depression glass, carnival vases, a couple Tiffany lamps, and finally, an assortment of Mission Oak. The larger pieces of antique furniture had led him to believe her well had gone dry—save the biggest, most valuable for last.
But this jewelry…this was a whole other story. One his mother would’ve loved to poke and prod and explore to the very origin of each piece’s creation.
He looked up at Loral with a tight smile. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Oh, no, they’re not real,” she blurted.
His brows rose as her cheeks warmed to an alluring shade of pink. So damn honest. Both a blessing and curse, he suspected, but it was one of the things he admired about her. Picking up a bracelet, he examined the length of metal up close under a desk lamp to his right. Yes, the stones did indeed lack the clarity of real jewels. Pity. He moved on to an emerald ring surrounded by what appeared to be diamonds. Also fake.
“But I know for sure they’re from the early 1930’s.”
He lifted his gaze to Loral’s and promptly wished he hadn’t. The hope in her voice reflected in her eyes for a split second before she transferred her attention to the shelf to his left. Instead of lingering on her delicate features and look like a fool for staring too long, he returned his concentration to her offerings.
Costume jewelry had been his mother’s area of expertise, her passion, and after he’d sold her extensive collection, he’d purposely stayed away from the memories jewelry evoked. He didn’t realize he’d tensed until a muscle ticked along his jaw.
Relax.
Setting down the ring with one hand, he picked up the dragonfly brooch with his other and tested its weight. Surprisingly dense for the delicate piece. He flipped it over.
Unsigned.
A flash of disappointment shot through him. It would’ve been so much better if they’d been signed by the designer. Beautiful as they all were, unfortunately, his clients expected either the real deal, or rare signed pieces of costume jewelry like his mother used to specialize in. He might get a fair price for the dragonfly simply because of its beauty, but the other pieces were questionable.
Still, he’d buy them. He took everything Loral brought him, good acquisition or not. And while he could pad his offers to her a little without her suspecting, it probably wouldn’t be enough. She’d be back.
He felt a twinge of guilt for the anticipation of seeing her again before she’d even left—if he was still in business by then. With a little luck—oh, get real, man—a lot of luck, he’d have solved his current financial situation and feel more comfortable asking her to coffee or dinner the next time she came in.
Anticipation made his heart thump against his ribs and he had to redirect his attention again. Picking up a tear-drop shaped pendant with aquamarine rhinestones that matched her eyes, he turned it over for inspection, too. She would expect no less.
Mac.
The signature etched in the gold plating sharpened his interest. His mother had talked endlessly about McClelland Barclay any time she found a piece designed by the man. A McClelland Barclay signature was good, but a Mac signature was gold to serious collectors. It meant Barclay had custom designed the piece for an individual—usually one of a kind.
One by one, he reexamined the other three items and found the same signature. Loral remained silent, but shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. She glanced at her watch, then out the door where the downtown streetlights chased away the evening darkness, joining the multitude of Christmas lights in shop windows.
Jake frowned slightly at her distracted, almost anxious, demeanor. He missed their casual, bordered-on-flirting banter of visits past. “You can relax, Loral, I’m not going to kick you out the moment the clock strikes seven.”
Her brow crinkled with confusion, then cleared. “Oh, no, I have to catch…um...I’m just kind of in a hurry,” she finished awkwardly.
Replacing the faux ruby bracelet set in silver plated channels on the glass showcase, he followed her gaze outsid
e. “Where’d you get these?”
Her back stiffened and he realized his words had sounded like an accusation when her eyes turned to indignant blue-green ice chips.
“I didn’t steal them.”
He lifted a hand and smiled gently to put her at ease. “I didn’t mean it that way, honestly. It’s just that they’re very rare, and unlike anything else you’ve brought in so far.”
She regarded him for a moment before the defensiveness left her expression.
“You’re right about them being from the 30’s,” he continued. “The designer, McClelland Barclay, made jewelry from 1932 to 1938. He was killed in 1943 during World War II.”
Amazing how he could remember the little details his mother used to throw out in the middle of an endless stream of chatter. When she was alive and well, he’d tried his damnedest to tune her out, because while he’d loved her, the woman could talk circles around an auctioneer.
Loral picked up the bracelet, draped it across her palm, and lightly ran a finger down its length. Jake’s pulse quickened at the thought of those slender fingers trailing across his skin.
“They were my great-grandmother’s,” she said softly. Regret colored her words and the sadness in her expression tugged at his heart.
He understood the emotion in her voice, only he’d gotten rid of the most painful reminders instead of trying to hang on to them. The jewelry had been his mother’s pride and joy above all else in the store.
Looking at Loral’s face, he quelled the urge to take her hand in his. She probably wouldn’t welcome the gesture. And if he touched her, any thoughts of comfort would be incinerated by the attraction that always heated his blood in her presence.
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