Three Times the Charm

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2015 Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-338-1

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: JC Chute

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my readers, whose love of romance and story make what I do possible!

  THREE TIMES THE CHARM

  Romance on the Go TM

  Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  Copyright © 2015

  Chapter One

  Wearing stiletto heels empowered Carisa. The increased height gave her confidence, because she didn’t feel short any longer. For her date, she’d chosen her brightest, sexiest garment––a scarlet mini-dress. The hemline halted at her upper thighs and the fabric clung to her figure. Red favored her coloring, too, making her otherwise drab brown hair shimmer with auburn highlights and her light brown eyes appear larger. At Daphne’s insistence, Carisa wore her hair down, the waist-length tresses cascading in a wild series of curls that proved far more flattering than the bun she usually skewered on top of her head. She put on more make-up than her normal foundation and a touch of lip-gloss too, all because Daphne swore Alex Milton would be worth the effort.

  “I look like someone else,” Carisa complained as she leaned closer to the vanity mirror to study her appearance.

  “You look amazing,” Daphne told her.

  Carisa sighed. No matter how lovely she might look––and she had her doubts––she expected this date would tank, just like all the others. Getting asked out wasn’t a problem. Surviving a date without managing to bore, offend, or anger a man had proved tricky. She loathed sports with a passion, so she couldn’t talk teams or scores. Lifelong allergies prevented her from contact with anything with fur, so dog lovers and fans of felines were out. Her lactose intolerance made dining out difficult. More than once she’d ordered something seemingly innocuous, which actually included dairy. Stomach cramps strong enough to make her double over tended to put a damper on a date.

  Although warned never to talk religion or politics, some men brought up the topics and when she expressed her honest opinion, the guys responded with harsh arguments or called her an idiot––or something worse. Carisa’s musical tastes ran to ragtime and big band music, vintage stuff, so she couldn’t speak with any authority about rap or rock or even current country. She didn’t watch much television and her movie preferences leaned toward classics, especially black and white films. Nor did Carisa hunt, fish, or hike. She loved to read, but most men she met never opened a book.

  Her unique tastes left just a few conversation topics: boring things like weather, books, and gardening. So far, she’d never met a man interested in any of those. Besides, at just twenty-five years old Carisa often felt as jaded as a Victorian spinster. Sometimes she wondered if such a thing as love really existed outside of novels, movies, or songs. Her parents split when she was no more than a toddler, and she knew more divorced people than happily married couples.

  With a sigh, she dismissed her heavy thoughts. Carisa spritzed a little more hair spray onto her curls just as the doorbell rang and she jumped.

  “That must be him.”

  Daphne laughed. “I imagine it is. Chill out, honey. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. You’re going to like Alex just fine.”

  Maybe, Carisa thought, but will he like me?

  Chest tight, heart pounding, she rushed to open the door. The casual greeting she’d prepared vanished, as Carisa stared up at six and a half feet of masculine perfection. Alex Milton wasn’t just good looking––the man was gorgeous. Sun-streaked light brown hair framed his face, as rugged as John Wayne’s but far more attractive. Green eyes flared with life as he looked at Carisa. His slender lips formed a smile.

  “Hey,” he said in a delicious voice, deep and a little husky. “I’m Alex Milton.”

  She grinned back. “And I’m Carisa Russo. Come in, please. I’m almost ready.”

  Daphne materialized and waved. “Hi, Alex.”

  “Hello.”

  “Good to see you in my home environment, boss man,” Daphne said with a wink.

  Carisa grabbed her purse with speed. Daphne had set up the date––Alex happened to be Daphne’s boss, at the local all-news radio station where she worked––but Carisa didn’t want the two talking about the office. And she’d rather the blonde, glamorous Daphne not distract her blind date.

  “Let’s go,” she said, and linked her arm through Alex’s. Most of the time she wouldn’t dare be so bold, but this guy gave ‘hot’ a new definition––and she was determined to give him her best effort.

  “Sure,” Alex said. In the hallway of the apartment building, he headed for the elevator. “I made dinner reservations at Hacienda Verde, if that’s all right.”

  “It sounds great,” Carisa said. “I love Mexican food.”

  “Great,” Alex said. “I think they serve some of the city’s best.”

  While she savored the taste of delicious enchiladas topped with chili gravy and paired with refried beans, Carisa remembered the last date she’d had at a Mexican eatery. She couldn’t even recall the man’s name, but did recall how her date had ordered for them both. He’d even asked for ‘no cheese’ on her dinner. The ‘special’ burrito supreme tasted rich and delicious, but Carisa didn’t realize it included a sour cream sauce blended with the shredded beef, the beans, and the onions until her tummy acted up. She had gone home early, sick and embarrassed.

  In her desire to prevent another mishap, she blurted out, “I’m lactose intolerant, though.”

  As soon as the words exited her mouth, she wanted to pull them back. She thought she probably sounded petulant and childish. Alex pushed the ‘lobby’ button and smiled. “No problem,” he said. “We just won’t order cheese enchiladas or any queso and I’ll tell them to hold any sour cream. And I promise not to force-feed you any ice cream, or make you drink milk.”

  He didn’t seem to mind. And he made no snide comment––just accepted it, and even joked about it. Carisa relaxed. Maybe this date would be different. “Thanks,” she said.

  Alex laughed. “Don’t mention it,” he told her. “Just don’t expect me to eat peanuts or anything cooked in peanut oil. So we won’t be having Chinese any time soon.”

  OMG, he’s got allergies himself. The revelation surprised her and pleased her in an odd little way. Now she didn’t feel like a total freak. “I won’t,” she told Alex. “I guess I won’t be baking you any peanut butter cookies, then.”

  “Chocolate chip cookies would be great, though,” Alex said as they stepped out of the elevator and strolled through the lobby. “I’m not picky and I love home cooking.”

  “I’ll make you some,” Carisa promised. And she would, too. “Are we taking a taxi?”

  “No, I brought my car,” Alex said and jingled the keys. He led her to a sleek, black vintage Corvette and opened the door so she could climb into the passenger seat. Low music issued from the built-in stereo and Carisa cringed. Here comes the modern music I don’t recognize and can’t stand. As soon as Alex got behind the wheel, he raised the volume. “I hope you don’t mind my music. It’s pretty eclectic and if you’d rather hear something else, I can turn on the r
adio.”

  The cheerful, upbeat music of Glenn Miller’s Orchestra filled the space and Carisa grinned. “In The Mood happens to be one of my favorites. I love big band music, and ragtime, too.”

  “Cool,” Alex replied. “Got a favorite Scott Joplin piece?”

  “Maple Leaf Rag,” she answered.

  He pulled out into traffic. “That’s mine, too. It’s amazing to meet a woman who likes real music. I worried you’d be into Celine Dion or Katy Perry or something modern. Nothing wrong with them––they’re great singers, but they’re just not my style.”

  Alex made small talk easy and Carisa smiled, relaxing in his company. “I know what you mean,” she told him. “I figured you might be into heavy metal or rap or something. It’s fabulous to meet someone who likes the same vintage music I do.”

  At Hacienda Verde, the host led them to a corner table on the rear patio. The background cantina-style music set the mood and Carisa liked the candle on the table. She dipped a tortilla chip into the homemade salsa as they perused the menu. “I’d like the steak fajita enchilada,” she told Alex. “And I’d like a side of refried beans, but without any cheese.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Alex said and ordered two meals. He didn’t order wine or margaritas, something Carisa didn’t like––just plain iced tea, same as she did.

  Carisa savored the tender steak tucked into a flour tortilla with a little sauce. As they dined, they talked, first about small things like the current stretch of beautiful weather and how much they enjoyed the food.

  “Now, you know I work at the all-news radio station,” Alex said. “Since Daphne does, too, I’m sure you have a pretty good idea of what we do. But I don’t have a clue where you work.”

  “I’m a kindergarten teacher,” Carisa said and waited for his reaction. Some of the guys she’d dated laughed at her occupation. Others thought she must be joking. A few told her the idea turned them off.

  Alex’s eyes lit up. “How awesome,” he cried. “You’re lucky. You’re shaping young minds and helping kids get a start in their education.”

  Warm pride in her occupation puffed through her chest. “Thanks. It is wonderful and I love what I do,” Carisa told him. “It can be hectic, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

  “Where do you teach?”

  “Webster Elementary,” she said. The older brick school once housed all primary grades, kindergarten right up through eighth, but long before her time. Now it served as an early childhood education center in one of the city’s poorest districts. The building housed a low-cost day care center, Head Start programs, pre-school and kindergarten. Caspar, the lawyer she’d dated for a few months, had urged her to transfer to a suburban neighborhood school. He’d made a lot of jokes about switchblade knives and armed robbery, too.

  “No kidding?” Alex asked. “I went to school there, myself. Grew up in the neighborhood. It’s not the best, but some good people call it home.”

  “I agree,” Carisa said. “We’re mostly working families, some single parents but not all. Our students represent several ethnic groups but they’re good kids, most of them.”

  He stretched out his hand across the table, above their now empty platters and took her hand. “I like to think I was one of them.”

  “I’m sure you were,” she answered. Carisa liked the way his big hand wrapped around hers. Even more she enjoyed making real conversation with someone like-minded who shared her interests. Alex Milton intrigued her and she longed to get better acquainted. Common threads stretched between them, something she’d seldom experienced. And Carisa couldn’t deny her attraction. Ever since she opened the door for him, her body tingled with a crazy desire. Her hands itched to touch him, her mouth to taste his.

  “Sometime maybe I’ll show you my old school pictures,” Alex told her. “Let’s go.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Where are we going?”

  Every inch the gentleman, Alex held the restaurant door for her and ushered her to the car in the shelter of his arm. “I thought about a movie or a club, but neither would be my first choice. You seem to like a lot of the same things I do, so will you trust me to surprise you?”

  “Yes,” Carisa said. Curious to see what he chose, she settled into the seat. The interior of the car smelled like Alex: warm, masculine, with a hint of sandalwood or something exotic. As the heady aroma filled her senses, she repositioned until she sat as close to him as possible.

  Alex navigated traffic with the skill of a racecar champion as he drove the Corvette over the darkened streets with smooth speed. He handled the car well, almost as if he were physically connected to the vehicle. As they traveled, the bright brassy sounds of some of her favorite 1940’s tunes filled the night and Carisa sang along, feeling more confident than she’d been on a date in ages.

  When he turned off a busy avenue into one of the city’s biggest green spaces, an older park known for a shady drive-through road, large picnic pavilions, a lake, and multiple playgrounds, Carisa grinned. She wondered if they might pause under the famous pines about midway around the route or if there might be a concert in the natural amphitheater.

  “Is there something going on here tonight?” she asked.

  “No, not really,” Alex replied as he circled into a parking lot on the lakeshore near the path leading to the rose gardens. “It’s just a beautiful night and I thought you might enjoy a stroll under the full moon.”

  Carisa made a swift mental list of his qualities: considerate, handsome, sexy, and romantic. He must possess a flaw or two, she reasoned, but unless he happened to be a secret serial killer or a criminal on the run from the law, she couldn’t imagine anything terrible enough to trump the rest. “I’d love it,” she told him. “Thanks, Alex.”

  As they walked hand in hand down the gravel pathway, she inhaled the sweet fragrance of hundreds of roses in full bloom. Silver moonlight filtered down between brilliant stars to reflect from the lake surface. A soft night breeze brushed her face and Carisa allowed the happiness within to erupt into a smile. She laughed with a quiet tinkle and when they reached the white gazebo in the center of the rose garden, Alex led her up the steps. Within the circular structure, he put his arms around her.

  “Would you care to dance?” he asked in his marvelous voice.

  Certain she must be dreaming, Carisa nodded and he began to hum a lovely melody. She followed his lead without tripping over her feet and they twirled with grace. They danced and with each step, her attraction increased. His scent made her crazy, tightening her nipples and moistening her inner cleft between her legs. She longed to unbutton the proper dress shirt he wore, to see if his chest boasted a mat of hair as dark as on his head, and to unzip his trousers. Desire poured through her, heady as a potent wine.

  Alex slowed and stopped. He wasn’t humming any longer as he tipped her head back into the curve of his arm. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered, his breath peppermint-scented. “I had no idea what to expect. Most blind dates, hell, most of my dates go wrong somehow, but this feels right, Carisa. If I’m going too fast for you, though, speak up.”

  “Don’t slow down,” she told him. “Just kiss me.”

  He pulled her closer and his mouth came down on hers with a powerful surge of energy. Alex tasted sweet and his lips burned with an intense heat. His deep kiss sent fever through her body, followed by sweet chills as Carisa quivered with pleasure. Alex evoked a physical response in Carisa, a wild abandon. Although she could be almost shy at times, she became a vixen with the right prompt––and he delivered one.

  As she kissed him back, her hands raked his hair and caressed it, tousled it. Every sensation rippled through her body with electricity and aroused her more. Her nipples hardened beneath the thin red fabric of her dress, so enlarged they ached. Carisa worked one hand between them and fumbled loose the buttons of his shirt, one at a time. Beneath the cotton material Alex wore no undershirt and just as she figured thick, dark hair covered his chest. She fingered it and the
n tweaked his nipple. It stiffened at her touch and where their bodies met his cock went rigid against her twat. Its pulsing, pressing hardness fired her erotic need. In the heels, she stood at the right height to match him stroke for stroke.

  As his tongue arrowed into her mouth in a sizzling kiss, which robbed her breath and what remained of her restraint, Carisa lowered her hand to the bulge in his crotch. She stroked him and he moaned. With haste she found his zipper and undid it, then reached up to unfasten his belt buckle. Once revealed, she discovered he’d gone commando and nothing remained between her hand and his swollen cock. Carisa cupped his balls in her hand and with the other, she stroked him.

  Alex smoldered and moaned at her touch. His sounds of pleasure fueled her desire to do more so she gripped his manhood in her fist. Then Carisa ran her closed fingers up and down his shaft, hard enough to create friction, but with enough gentle caresses to make it feel good. Alex put his hands on her shoulders and lowered the straps of her dress to bare her bosom. When his large hands stroked her breasts, the sensations claiming her body grew intense and marvelous. Her body melted at his touch and the increasingly urgent need for more turned her greedy.

  When he suckled her nipple between his lips, his teeth raked her flesh with sensual electricity. Carisa thought she’d faint with the intense sensation. With what self-possession she could muster, she increased her grip on his cock. About the time she decided if it got any harder it might just burst open, or shatter the way good pottery did when dropped, Alex grasped her waist.

  “Now,” he said in a voice harsh with breathlessness. “Now or I’ll die.”

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  He backed her up to one of the benches ringing the outer walls of the gazebo and lifted her skirt. As Carisa scooted back to brace against the bench, Alex stripped away her silk panties, just a scrap of material. He bent her legs backward and she spread them, as eager as he to connect. Her cunt radiated warmth and a rush of wetness lubricated it. Alex got into position and thrust into her, hard and fast. The walls of her pussy tightened to stroke his dick on entry and she clenched her ass to pull him deeper. He wove in and out of her, each stroke sending a burst of pure physical pleasure radiating through her body. Alex filled her completely and touched her soul.