by Celia Kyle
“Janet, I’m leaving.” He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on. “I’ll be unavailable for the rest of the afternoon and won’t be back until midday tomorrow.” With any luck, that is.
He really hoped he got lucky, in more ways than one.
He didn’t spare much of a glance for his open-mouthed assistant as he strode toward the elevator. He didn’t need that woman’s approval, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to explain himself after all the trouble she’d caused him. He just bet she’d sent out those eviction notices by mistake…
The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, and he stepped into the car, standing next to a striking blonde. And felt… nothing. Not a thing. His cock didn’t even seem to take notice of the attractive woman standing next to him. Seemed he really was a one-woman man, and that woman was Charlene as far as he was concerned. Charlene, with her mocha skin and bright eyes, her dazzling smile and luscious curves. He didn’t want anyone but her. Damn it. And now he was determined to win her back.
The shop was empty when he arrived, except for Charlene standing in the middle of the space, eyes glazed and staring out at nothingness.
“Charlene?” She didn’t respond. “Charlene?”
She licked her lips and dashed the tears from her face with her fingertips before facing him, and his heart ached for the pain that’d been caused by the letter. Damn Janet to hell and back twice over. She turned toward him slowly, and he counted the seconds, needing to see her shining eyes and bright smile if it killed him.
“Linc.” Her voice was cold, not the sex-filled timbre of the night before, and hope died a small death in his chest.
“I… Fuck.” He ran his hand through his hair, his attention focused on the far wall. “I came here… I was hoping… The thing is…”
He took two steps toward her and she took two steps back. “Please, Linc, say what you’ve got to say.”
“It was a mistake.” His shoulders slumped.
“A mistake. What? Us? You? Me? All of it? What?”
Too many questions and none of them the right one. “The letter. It was --”
“Not meant to arrive so quickly after you’d departed? Or did you just slap it up as you walked out the door? Thanks for the fuck, now get the fuck out, is that it? Fuck you,” she spat at him and he held his ground, not willing to let what they’d shared, what could be, go.
“No, the fact that they went out at all.” She turned away from him and he forcibly whirled her around so they were eye to eye. “It. Was. A. Mistake. My damned secretary sent out the letters to cause trouble --”
“A mistake?” She sounded so small and defeated, tears brimming in her eyes.
“Yes.” He sighed. “A mistake. I’m not going to let anyone force you out, Charlene. I’m so sorry for causing your pain…”
She launched herself into his arms and he automatically caught her, holding her lush form close. Her words were muffled as she babbled on, and he just petted her hair, savoring her touch and thankful that she’d seemed to have forgiven him.
She whacked him in the chin.
So, maybe not.
Charlene pushed away from him and hit his chest. “I ate ice cream over you!”
“No, baby, that was chocolate…”
“No, you made me hate you and… and then… and with the… ice cream! Calories! Fat!” She hit him again. “Argh. It’s all your fault anyway for making me like you so much.” She harrumphed.
He pulled her close, rubbing his nose against hers in an Eskimo’s kiss. “I like you too if that helps.”
She growled and narrowed her eyes.
“Do you want me to beg? I’ll beg. I’ll get on my knees.” He dropped to his knees, hands out in supplication. “I’ll worship the ground you walk on. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted, just… just give me another chance.”
“And what if I do? What if I open my heart to you?”
“I’ll cherish it and nurture your growing feelings for me. I’ll protect you and care for you and love you… eventually. Once I get over my tiny fears about commitment.”
“I’ll give you a fear of commitment…”
Celia Kyle
Celia would have loved to have written her own biography, but she just didn’t know what to say. In a fit of desperation, she turned to me, her most trusted confidant and friend. I realize you’re asking yourself, “Who is this?” I am Cali, her cat. I also go by a few other names, but those may be too strong for your delicate ears. Suffice it to say my mommy is very creative and not just with writing.
My mommy, Celia, began writing in August of 2006. I know this because it was around that time our meals started coming later and later in the day. As months passed, she spent more and more time in front of the boring screen. Though, it was fun to chase the little arrow around every once in a while. You should hear her scream! But I digress.
She’s worked hard to give readers sexy, quirky heroines they can relate to. And you better damn well appreciate it. All I got was late night feedings. And I didn’t even make it into one of her books by name! That damn kitten, Katie O’Meghan, did. Bitch.
Well, enjoy her writings and if you want to praise her for her work… don’t. I’d like to get fed at some point, people.
Fine. If you must contact her, her website is at www.celiakyle.com or you can send an email to [email protected]. But when I go hungry, I’ll blame you all!
Lizzie Lynn Lee
Lizzie Lynn Lee was a guitarist, receptionist, executive assistant, tarot reader, boutique owner and graphic artist before she discovered that writing is her dream job. The advantage being she can do it in her pajamas and socks. She’s an incurable chatterbox, heavy metal aficionado, bookworm and a night owl, since most of her stories were done in the wee hours of the morning because of her caffeine-induced insomnia. She loves to hear back from her readers, so visit her website: www.iLizzie.com.