by Mary Blayney
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Steve was sitting in a chair facing Kendall’s sleeping nook. As soon as she woke up, he’d call Mike, but she needed sleep more than anything. And it was only 5:00 a.m. Mike would still be asleep too. He was a night owl and had probably only gone to bed a couple of hours ago.
You’re up early came the reply to the text he’d just sent.
I am. He trusted Nelson would leave it at that. He’d woken up with such a hard–on that he knew he’d better move as far away from Kendall Marshall as the small apartment would allow.
Maddie wants to know if Kendall’s okay
She’s amazing. Doing fine. Not why I texted.
They finished their business in two more texts and Steve moved on to checking his email. There was nothing pressing, so he tossed his phone aside, thinking about trying to catch some more sleep.
Sliding down into a more supine position, he propped his shoeless feet up on the coffee table. He must have drifted off, ‘cause it was close to six the next time he checked his phone.
He stretched and looked around the space. She has a super little nest here, he thought, scanning the area with an eye for design rather than security. It looked like her – modern but warm, simple but welcoming. Definitely not big enough for two, though.
Shit where had that thought come from? They’d only known each other for little more than a month and had only spent time together on a few occasions…one of which had been in the ER.
Of course they had slept in the same bed twice. That had to up the friendship ante some. Still, for him to already be thinking about sharing a living space with her was moving too far, too fast.
He got up and decided to make some coffee. Six wasn’t too early to get a start on the day. Once Kendall was up he could get out of here and get to work.
Chapter Ten
You wanted to see me?” Kendall headed into Mike’s office, amazed that she could move at all the way her knees were knocking. Had she messed up her job already? In the less than ten days since she’d taken over for Maddie.
“Sit.” He was concentrating on his computer screen. She did, perching on the edge of the visitor’s chair. Kendall thought about taking a deep breath, but she couldn’t actually do it.
He turned his attention to her and shook his head. “Sorry, Kendall. This isn’t about your work. You’re doing fine. So stop stressing about that.”
“Thank you,” she said, willing herself to relax, just a little.
“This is about Steve.”
“Is he hurt?” She jumped up, pressing her hands to her chest.
“No, he’s fine,” Mike reassured her. “Though your reaction does answer one big fat question I have.”
Kendall sat down again and this time she did take a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“So you haven’t heard from him?”
She bit back a smile. “Some texts.” Suggestive, silly, and oddly romantic. “He was called away on some home invasion at the Caribbean home of someone who shall not be named.” At least that’s what he’d told her.
Mike nodded. “Turns out there’d been a bunch of these break–ins and he’s been working with the police on the case. They’ve finally put an end to it.”
Kendall’s heart stuttered. “Was he in danger?”
“Nah. But it does happen. That’s something you’ll have to get used it if this start–up relationship between you two moves any further.”
“That remains to be seen,” Kendall stiffened as she spoke. She couldn’t help it. He’d left the day after the home invasion at Jessica’s as soon as she woke up – even before she had coffee – with little more than an awkward hug and an “I’ll be in touch.” No promises beyond that, no promises at all. Of course the texts hinted at something more than a one night stand. But they hadn’t even had that yet.
“He’s physically fine, but he’s been in a piss poor mood since that night at your place, or more exactly, since the morning after.”
“He’s the one who left.”
“As would any man who just realized that the woman he’d slept with was more than a casual lay.”
She thought about clarifying about their sleeping arrangements, but why bother. “So what’s this about? Are you playing Cyrano, or are you trying to tell me to keep things professional with him?” She cringed, knowing she sounded anything but professional.
“He’ll be back sometime later today. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
Okay, Kendall thought. That hurt. He was coming back and he hadn’t even mentioned anything, be it by phone, text, or loudspeaker. Instead of bursting into tears, she shrugged. “I consider myself warned. Unless he plants himself in the audience, I don’t expect to see him anytime soon.”
“God, am I making a mess of this or are you?” Mike wiped his hand across his face and shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. “Look at it this way, Kendall. You and Steve took down a stalker without any bloodshed and without involving any bystanders. I think you two should be able to figure out how to make a relationship work.”
“Yeah, sure, but first we both have to want a relationship.”
“Good point,” He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me to shut up so you can get back to work.”
“Thanks, Mike,” Kendall said as she stood to leave. “You know, sometimes the rich and famous think they have the answer to all the world’s problems and they can’t resist sharing their wisdom.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He sounded just a little annoyed at her observation. Kendall shrugged and waved as she left the room.
Thanks a lot, Mike, Kendall thought. Now every time the phone rings or someone comes to the door or I have an incoming text, I’m going to wonder if it’s Steve. Okay, let’s be honest, I’ll HOPE it’s Steve.
Later on, she was putzing around her rarely used kitchen, collecting the items from her fridge that were too weird looking to eat and trying to decide which take–out spot suited her appetite when her phone buzzed with an incoming message. She forced herself to ignore it. Jessica was heading back from Cooperstown and was probably updating her on her arrival time.
The insistent sound irritated her for no good reason, though, and she picked up the phone to scan the message. It was from Steve.
Dinner?
She stared at the one word and wondered if accepting implied she would be at his beck and call.
Where? She texted back.
Open your door.
Kendall approached it cautiously, as if a shape shifter was waiting on the other side and she wasn’t sure if she was going to see a man or a lion.
It was Steve O’Hara. In one hand he was carrying a shopping bag – from her favorite Thai place, she noted – and in the other a six pack of beer.
“Been too long,” he said.
Kendall couldn’t decide if that was an apology or an “I missed you” in man code. She nodded and held the door open, which was her code for “This is your last chance.”
Steve came in and stuck the beer in the fridge before plopping the take out bag on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area. Returning to the living area, he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed.
“So I’m guessing that texting wasn’t enough to keep the flame glowing.”
“Oh,” she said, imitating his stance. “There might be an ember or two if you look among the ashes.”
“Wanna beer?” he asked as he headed back to the fridge.
“Sure.” He pulled out two and handed her one, which did make her come closer to him. He twisted off the cap on his and took a solid slug. For courage?
She ignored her beer. This close to him, she could feel the tension radiate between them. Kendall wasn’t sure what it meant. Part of her wanted to punch him and part of her wanted to push him onto the bed and have her way with him.
“I can’t tell if you want to hit me or hug me,” Steve said, keeping an eye on her balled fists.
“Me either,” she said, and then relented a l
ittle. “Both, I guess.”
“Shit, I can handle that. Come on, give me the best you’ve got.”
“Did I ever tell you I trained in kickboxing?”
“No. I’ll add it to the laundry list of self–defense classes you may or may not have taken.” Steve responded with some interest. “What do you like best about kickboxing?
“You learn to move fast.” She proved it by angling her foot into his gut. Not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to let him know she could have if that’s what she wanted.
He grabbed her foot and, using some kind of martial arts maneuver, knocked her off her feet and onto the floor, somehow managing to cushion her fall with his own body.
“I’m a black belt, remember?”
She shook her head, amazed that he’d managed to defend himself without injuring her.
“Now that we have that over with, can we get to the hug?”
“Not quite yet.” She used her arms to push herself up, allowing her lower body to come into very close contact with the most aroused part of his body.
Pushing herself away, she stood and opened her beer, taking a delicate sip. “The texts were nice. But what do you have against the phone?”
“Any place there was decent coverage; there wasn’t a shred of privacy. And I gotta be honest, if those macho cops heard me talking to a woman, they would have called me everything from pussy whipped to worse, and that would have demanded retribution.” He shook his head. “My position there was tenuous at best.”
“Okay, I get it, but if we go on with this” – she made a gesture with her hand – “whatever this is, then you have to find a way to communicate with me when you’re traveling. And it would be grand if you could severely limit the use of the word shit. If that makes you feel pussy whipped, a term I loathe, then you can leave now.”
“Got it.” Steve got up and pulled the take out bag across the counter. “Let’s eat. I want to hear how the job is going, and if I have to take anyone out for hitting on you.”
Which told her he wasn’t leaving now, pussy whipped or not. The tension disappeared over the next hour as they ate and traded stories on how they’d spent their ten days apart.
Her stories were fun and his were definitely fascinating.
“So how close did you come to getting badly hurt on this job?”
Steve shook his head in a way that was a gesture between yes and no. “To be honest, it was probably more dangerous than it seemed, given that I rarely carry a gun and they had enough to start a high–level terrorist incident, most of them stolen from the houses they’d spent the last year looting.”
“Jeez, and I always pictured the Caribbean as a calm and peaceful place.”
“It’s definitely more calm and peaceful on that island now. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’d be welcome back any time soon. I have it on good authority that the perps are not going to be serving much jail time, if any.”
Kendall held up her hands. “Stop right there, or I’ll be watching for another stalker whenever you’re around.”
“No way they would come after me. The cops who brought them in are much closer targets.”
“Why isn’t that reassuring?”
He leaned across the table and took her hand. “Kendall Marshall, there was another reason you didn’t hear much from me.”
She nodded, turning her hand so that he could hold it more completely.
“The night after we finished with Carmody, I realized that there is something between us. It scared the shit out of me.” He paused. “Pardon the phrase, but it’s going to take a little practice for me to stop using that word.” He squeezed her hand a little. “And yeah, that’s why I left so fast.”
He let go of her hand and reached for his beer again.
“It took me exactly as long as the flight to that island to realize how much I wanted to know you better – much, much better –and how much I want you to get to know me.”
Now it was her turn to drink some beer. Apparently this man didn’t know what taking it slow meant.
“If you’re interested, it means you have to be prepared for me to occasionally go into dangerous situations. But I want you to know that coming back to you will always be a motivation for me to avoid getting myself into stupid scrapes.”
“Steve, we haven’t even had sex.”
“Do we even have to?” He raised her hand and kissed it. She felt the shock of attraction shoot all the way down to her toes.
Now it was her turn to edge away. She stood up, cleared the table of the half–finished cartons and stowed them in the refrigerator.
Might as well see how hot this is going to be. Moving toward the sleeping nook, she stopped and faced him one more time.
“I just want you to know that if this is more than a passing fancy” – and she already knew it would be for her – “and turns into the kind of love that means commitment, well, that’s a once and forever trip for me.”
“Whoa, now who’s over thinking?”
“Just letting you know,” she said with a shrug.
“Duly noted.” He rinsed his beer bottle and left it on the drain board.
She smiled. Someone had trained him in the little things.
Kendall closed her eyes for a moment and tried to see them as a couple. Tried to see him as more than the hottest man she had ever been close to. And that included some world famous actors. She remembered their dinner together at Primo’s and the kiss they’d shared against the tree. Those were just about the only normal experiences they had shared as a couple who were dating.
“Steve, we have a long way to go to see if this is more than a wild, insane fling.”
“I’ll be happy to help convince you. For as long as it takes.” Steve O’Hara pushed Kendall Marshall back onto her bed and landed beside her. He framed her face with his hands and just before he kissed her, he said, “I think this is where we were before we were so rudely interrupted.”
Kendall had to agree that it was fine place to start.
The End
Author’s Note
Kendall Marshall and her twin sister, Jessica, first entered my writing world in my second book for Silhouette, Father Christmas in 1989. They were eight years old at the time and the reason my hero, their always absent father, Daniel, came to New York to celebrate Christmas. Of course their aunt, who was their adopted mother, came along too. This December I will be releasing Father Christmas so you can read how Annie and Daniel found love with the help of twins who were the one thing the two adults had in common.
I’ve known for years Kendall and Jessica belonged with Steve and Mike O’Hara and I’m so pleased epublishing is giving me the chance to share their stories with you. Jessica and Mike O’Hara’s story, in novella form, will be available in January 2014. Read on and enjoy!
Thanks to John Saunders for suggesting cardiomyopathy as the reason Cassie needs a heart transplant and to Mary Kay McComas for answering my endless questions about the condition. The clever Chadwick Wilson suggested using his name for the diamond company Kendall may or may not have worked for. My thanks to him. Janelle Schmidt earns my thanks too, for answering questions on what an actor could and could not do without being an equity or SAG member and confirming there was such a thing as an audience handler. Freelance editor Angela Polidoro did an amazing job editing and I appreciate every one of her two thousand corrections. David Voorhies was my go to guy on what it would take to destroy a lobby window. He had some good stories to tell which I have filed away for possible future use. Linda Koloski’s experience with adrenaline crash after she helped save a child’s life is a great story and gave me some insight into how Kendall would react to her confrontation with Carmody.
I lived in New York City while writing Father Christmas and more than once I wanted to stand up on the subway, make an announcement thanking New Yorkers for their generosity to the homeless and give everyone a quarter. Most of those who asked for attention wanted a quarter. I never had the nerve to actually do
it but there is no doubt in my mind Kendall would do it and so she does.
Author Bio
Mary Blayney’s first two romances were contemporaries published by Silhouette Books. Since 2000 she has been writing Regency–set historical novels and novellas for Kensington, Bantam and Berkley. Returning to the contemporary market with her novella in Once and Forever, Mary hopes to continue to tell stories set in both the Regency and the 21st century.
Married to a retired Coast Guard officer, Mary has lived all over the US from Alaska to Puerto Rico, but is now settled near Annapolis, Maryland, within sight of the Chesapeake Bay. Her life close to the Coast Guard and its mission to search and rescue has convinced her that life is best lived with joy, love and a generous heart. Those convictions are what she most wants to share with her readers. Family will always play a strong part in her books since she believes that family relationships are as fundamental as the love between a man and a woman.
Email Mary
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The Princess & The Pinot
By
Elaine Fox
Dedication
For the Lifesavers, who live up to their name time and again.
Chapter One
The woman was perfect for him. I could tell the moment she walked in the door, bedraggled by the rain and clutching a dove–gray leather satchel so soft to the touch it might have been made of feathers. (I know this because I rushed to help her close the door, which had gotten snagged by a suddenly tornado–like wind, and then held her bag while she took off her coat.)
She was beautiful, with big doe eyes, flowing dark hair, a body lithe and long, and a Mona Lisa smile that made even me – a totally heterosexual girl – want to buy her a drink and ask her how she’d come to find the Vineyard Inn.
Her name, of course, was Principessa – pronounced in the Italian style: Prin–chee–PAYS–ah. Principessa Bella. So: Princess Beautiful.