“Thanks, Marc. But I’m not as successful as you are. And I’m not as smart. I don’t have a college degree, so I might not fit in with your friends and colleagues.”
“You’ll fit in just fine. But for what it’s worth, if it makes you feel better, you can always take some evening and Saturday courses at the local junior college. That’s what a lot of people do. In fact, that’s how Elena got her AA degree.”
She hated to tell him that she’d already considered doing that, but she couldn’t afford the registration fees right now. Instead, she said, “I’ll have to check into it.”
They continued to walk along the concrete jogging path, winding away from the park.
“That’s not all the baggage I’m carrying,” she said.
“Are you talking about Caitlyn? I know the two of you are a package deal, and it doesn’t scare me. I’m willing to read parenting books and go to theme parks and watch cartoon movies—whatever you suggest.”
“Something tells me that having a child around won’t be a problem for you.”
“Then why do I still detect reluctance?”
“It’s not reluctance on my part. I’d love to get to know you better, to date, to…whatever.”
“Then what’s holding you back?”
“The fact that I have a lot of debt.”
“That’s not a problem. I can—”
She reached for his arm, as if she could hold the offer back. “No. I don’t want to be rescued by some guy riding a white horse.” She laughed. “Or in this case, a black limo.”
They stood like that, gazes locked, her hand resting on his forearm. She’d made her point; she could have let go and stepped away. But she didn’t want to lose the physical connection, the warmth of their touch, the surge of attraction, the rush of pheromones swirling around them.
“I understand why you want to pay off your own debts,” he said, “but if you need money, either as a gift or as an interest-free loan, all you have to do is say the word.”
“I appreciate that.”
She could certainly drop her hand now, take a step back, look away, but the intensity in his gaze was spellbinding, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here, with anyone but him.
Marc had already made his move when he’d arrived in the limousine, bearing roses and wearing his heart on his sleeve. So now it was her turn.
She lifted her hand, cupped his jaw, brushed her thumb against the faint bristles on his cheek. “I don’t know what’s happening between us or what I’m feeling, Marc, but I like whatever it is—a lot.”
He placed his hand over hers, holding her fingers to his face, strengthening their connection, stirring the heat of their touch. “I like it, too.”
When her heart fluttered, she wondered just how deep her feelings had gone. Was this love? This soon? It was possible, she thought. So very possible.
So now what? she wondered. She hadn’t wanted a man in her life who wasn’t an equal. Nor had she wanted a rescuer. Yet she no longer saw Marc as someone bigger than life or better than she deserved. He had a few flaws and insecurities, just as she did. And he cared for her in spite of them.
Marc was a gift, she realized. And maybe he’d always been, but the timing hadn’t been right before.
Now it was right. The past ten years had changed them into people who would truly appreciate each other from this day forward.
Slipping her hand free of his, she urged her fingers along his jaw and around to the back of his neck. Then she drew his face, his mouth, to hers.
The kiss started with the brush of his lips against hers, gently and tentatively, like an innocent kiss between young lovers testing their feelings and desire for the very first time. But as it intensified, as their breaths mingled and he drew her closer, her lips parted.
When his tongue touched hers, the kiss exploded into a heart-pounding, earth-moving kaleidoscope of colors.
She found it hard to breathe or to keep her knees from buckling. All she could do was to hang on tight and relish the taste of him, knowing that just one kiss wouldn’t be enough.
Their first embrace had pushed them apart, but this one was binding them together in a way she hadn’t expected.
As the kiss came to an end, they continued to hold each other tight, to see the truth in each others’ eyes, to validate what had just happened to them.
Falling head over heart in love with Marc suddenly seemed to be a whole lot more possible than it had been even moments ago.
“That kiss is going to be a hard act to follow,” she said.
“Something tells me it’s only going to get a whole lot better.” Then he took her by the hand and headed back to the park, back to her mother and daughter and the waiting limousine.
She glanced at her bangle wristwatch. “It’s almost time to go back to work.”
“Not today. I’ve got the limo rented for the rest of the afternoon and evening. And I feel like having an adventure. Let’s see where we end up.”
Jenn gave his hand a squeeze. “That sounds like a great idea to me.”
She’d been given a second chance at love, and she didn’t intend to let one single minute of the adventure slip away.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time the evening of the reunion came around, Jenn and Marc had been dating for ten days—each one a unique adventure that proved they were meant not only to be together, but to be a family.
They’d taken Caitlyn to Roy’s Burger Roundup, as well as to a matinee at the Fairbrook Movie Palace, where they watched the latest Disney flick. And they’d been to Chuck E. Cheese’s twice.
But they’d also found time to be alone.
Last weekend, he’d surprised her by taking her for an awesome ride in a hot-air balloon. And on Tuesday, just before midnight, they’d walked barefoot in the sand—hand in hand and heart to heart. The full moon had shined bright, and as the waves rolled back, they spotted a scattering of grunion, the silvery fish that had come to lay their eggs in the sand. Marc had felt a part of something much bigger than the two of them, and he’d only been further convinced that he was meant to be with Jenn for the rest of their lives.
On Wednesday, they’d had a romantic dinner for two at the Starlight Room and seen Mamma Mia at the La Jolla Playhouse. And last night, after getting a babysitter, they’d double-dated with Susan and Brad Kramer and gone bowling.
Marc liked Jenn’s dad, and he suspected the man would be moving back home soon.
Now, as he pulled up in front of the Mar Vista Country Club and waited for the valet to open Jenn’s door, he adjusted his tie. As magical as the past week and a half had been, he wasn’t all that keen on attending the reunion, but Jenn had thought they should at least make a showing.
He felt a little awkward about being with the former homecoming queen, but he shook it off. He wasn’t a nobody any longer.
As Jenn climbed out of his car, wearing a black dress and heels, her hair pulled up in a pretty twist, he had to pinch himself to believe that this day had truly come, that he and Jenn were finally a couple.
He reached out his hand, and she took it.
“Thanks for coming with me,” she said. “I know you weren’t really up for all of this, but we don’t need to stay very long. Just long enough for me to interview a few people. Then we can take off.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I understand. You can’t very well wrap up that article about the reunion if you don’t attend.”
They walked into the lobby of the country club and followed the music to the main dining room, which had been decorated in blue and silver, the Fairbrook High school colors.
A disc jockey had set up his equipment next to the dance floor, where he was playing a hit that had been popular ten or more years ago.
They’d barely made it inside when Jason Phillips approached.
Jason looked at his ex-wife and smiled. “You look good, Jenn.”
“Thanks.”
Jason’s focus shifted to
Marc, but his words were aimed at Jenn. “I see you brought a date.”
“This is Marc Alvarado,” she said. “You probably remember him as Marcos Taylor.”
“The Brain?” Jason’s assessment deepened. “You’ve changed.”
Yes, quite a bit, Marc thought. And Jason really hadn’t. But what good would it do any of them for Marc to make some kind of snide retort? So he refrained from mentioning anything about growth and maturity and gave a half-shrug.
“Where are you guys sitting?” Jason grinned, but not in what Marc would call a snobbish way. “With the brains, huh?”
“I hope so,” Jenn said. “I’m writing an article for the Times, and I thought it would be a nice twist to find out what’s going on in some of our classmates’ lives.”
“Well,” Jason said, “I’ll let you get after it, then. I was just heading to the bar to meet up with a couple of buddies of mine. They’re watching the Padres game, and I need to check the score.”
Marc figured he had a bet riding on the outcome.
Jason’s gaze again turned to Marc. “Take care of her.”
“I intend to.” Again, Marc held back on implying that Jason hadn’t done a very good job of looking out for his wife, his marriage, or his family. But then again, maybe the guy already knew it. Maybe he was the one making comparisons and falling short now.
“I’ll see you guys later.” Then Jason excused himself and went off to join his friends.
When the guy was out of earshot, Marc asked, “Who do you plan to interview?”
“Some of the honor students. And remember Darren Jackson? The guy who used to sit under the tree on the senior lawn and strum his guitar?”
“Yeah, I remember him. He used to keep to himself a lot, and he probably got as much ribbing as I did.”
“I heard he just landed a major recording contract, and I’d like to talk to him. Jessica told me he was coming. I think it would be cool to talk to some of the kids who hadn’t been popular, but who made something out of their lives.”
Like me, Marc thought.
He suspected that she’d show Frank Bagley that she was a talented journalist who knew how to create a story that would appeal to the community at large, and a surge of pride shot through him.
As they entered the dining room, they spotted Jessica Rawlings and another girl Marcos didn’t recognize sitting at a table, passing out name tags.
“Hey!” Jessica brightened when she spotted Jenn. “You look great.”
“Thanks.”
Jessica’s eyes swept from Jenn to Marc. “And you brought a date. I didn’t have him on the RSVP list, but we can squeeze him in.” She glanced at the sheet of paper in front of her that bore the names of those attending and their seating assignment. “I have you at table three now, but if I switch you to table nine, that’ll work. Ken Clausen and his wife canceled at the last minute.”
“We’d like table nine so we can sit together, but my date is already on the list, Jess. This is Marcos ‘The Brain’ Taylor, now known as Marc Alvarado.”
“No kidding?” Jessica brightened. “You found him.”
Jenn turned to Marc and smiled. “You bet I did. And I’m never going to let him go.”
Marc slipped an arm around his queen and held her tight. He’d been successful in school, as well as in business, but his true calling was to be a good husband to Jenn, a devoted stepfather to Caitlyn, and a daddy to the other kids they would have together.
Tía Elena had said there would be three—two boys and a girl.
Marc hadn’t said anything about it to Jenn, thinking she’d like to be surprised. But Marc didn’t doubt his aunt’s gift anymore.
Love takes time to develop, she’d told him when she’d found him down in the mouth as a teenager. One day, Jennifer will see you for who you really are, and then love will blossom. I’m sure of it.
And sure enough, she had—and it did.
“Maybe I can move some other people around,” Jessica said. “Most of the old gang will be seated at tables three and four.”
“Don’t bother,” Jenn said. “As long as Marc and I are together, we’ll be fine.”
Marc couldn’t agree more.
“Do you want to know who you’ll be sitting with?” Jessica asked.
“It really doesn’t matter.” Jenn turned to Marc, a smile lighting her pretty face, drawing him into an inner circle that only included the two of them.
“Come on,” he said, escorting her into the dining room in search of table nine.
They planned to enjoy meeting the adults their classmates had become. And when the night was through, they would continue the adventure they’d started ten days ago—getting to know each other and becoming the couple they were meant to be.
Love and second chances didn’t get much better than this.
The Honeymoon House
Mary Carter
Chapter One
She had no choice—it was a direct order from the Bride-monster. Get rid of everything romantic. I don’t want a single trace of anything lovey-dovey in the house, do you hear me? Amanda actually said, “Do you hear me.” Kate Williams stood on the front porch of the adorable Gingerbread cottage, key in hand, gearing up to execute Mission KR: Kill Romance. Not the duties she’d expected when she signed on for the role of Amanda’s maid of honor, and rushed to Martha’s Vineyard for what, if Amanda was to be believed, was to be the Wedding of the Century.
Kate inserted the key into the lock, but didn’t turn it. Instead, she surveyed the front porch, doused in bright greens and blues with icicle-like trim dangling above her head. Then she lifted her gaze to the nearest neighbor, and beyond. Near-replicas of the fairy-tale cottage she stood in front of were rolled out in front of her, dominating the street like a parade of grown-up tents splashed in bright colors and boasting varying arrays of dangling, geometric trim. Kate felt as if she were the lead float in the parade, and imagined herself waving to the unseen crowds. The cottages, a tourist attraction born of the Methodist revival tents that dominated the area in the nineteenth century, were sandwiched so close together, Kate felt like the new guppy dumped in the proverbial fishbowl.
Hopefully, the nearest neighbors were out for the day, strolling the beach or brunching in a local café. She didn’t want anyone spying her in her disheveled, yet remarkably still fluffy, plum bridesmaid dress. Although truth be told, her colorful gown blended in with the cottages perfectly; she looked like a fairy-tale princess coming home on her lunch hour, but that was definitely where the similarities ceased. Because one thing was for sure—this princess was, at thirty-one, much older than your average Cinderella–Snow-White combo pack (definitely too old to still be wearing a hideous bridesmaid’s dress), and furthermore, this particular vision in plum was extremely hungover.
She and Amanda had pulled an all-nighter, first in a local bar until they were tossed out at two, then on the beach with a bottle of Candy Apple Liquor Amanda had been given as a bridal-shower gift. They passed the bottle back and forth as Amanda purged months’ worth of minor complaints about Pete. Then they passed out on the beach, an almost-bride and her maid of honor sunk in the sand like drunken teenagers dumped by their dates on prom night. When Kate awoke several hours later, Amanda was hovering over her with breath Kate could only wish smelled like candied apples, and a self-professed brilliant idea in her head: she and Kate were going to stay in the cottage that was supposed to have been her honeymoon house with Pete.
The fact that the cottage was on loan from a childhood friend of Pete’s, not Amanda’s, didn’t seem worth worrying about. They could stretch “girls’ night” out for an entire month. Could Kate get the time off work? Kate didn’t mention she’d been laid off and had all the time in the world. Instead, she said yes, she was definitely due some vacation time. It was settled. The girls would move into the cottage. But first, Kate had to go to the cottage and do Amanda a favor.
Thus, Operation Kill Romance was born. Go directly to the cottage,
do not pass Go, do not collect your sweatpants and T-shirt.
Kill romance. Who was Amanda kidding? Why was Kate following the directions of an unglued almost-bride? Because she was her best friend, and she needed her. If Amanda wanted the place stripped of love, Kate was going to strip it of love. But did that include the flowerpots resting along side of the porch, bursting with flagrant color? And what about the wooden swing swaying in the slight breeze? A swing could be considered romantic, couldn’t it? And while she was at it, would she have to find a way to get rid of the scent of honeysuckle in the air?
Kill romance? What about the beaches, the ocean, the Vineyard’s signature pink sunrises and sunsets, the romantic little restaurants, the panoramic views, the cliffs, the lighthouses? Seemingly, they could never leave the house. Kate would have to cover all the windows in a shroud, mark the door with a bloody X. At least she would have to move the flowerpots to the tiny backyard or put them on the neighbor’s porch. That’s when Kate looked down and spotted the welcome mat.
Custom-ordered for the happy couple, portraying a handsome groom carrying a blushing bride over the threshold, it shouted WELCOME MR. AND MRS. Oh. My. God. That was the sweetest thing ever. That was definitely going to have to go. Kate flipped the offending mat upside down. Then she gathered the flowerpots, which wasn’t an easy feat since there were six of them, and snuck them over to the neighbor’s porch. She came back and was all set to enter when she made the mistake of looking up. Little lights were strung up in between the dangling trim. Upon closer inspection, she could see they were shaped like little hearts. A tear came to her eye as she started yanking them down. It was such a pity she wouldn’t get to see them lit up at night.
Your mission, if you choose to accept it…
Not that she had a choice. Amanda was on a rampage. She reminded Kate of the movie Gremlins, where, when you accidentally doused the cute, fuzzy, little buddies with water, they freaked right out and turned into slimy, snarling monsters.
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