“It does, actually.” She nodded slowly. “I think I’ve been missing the spark in my life.”
“That can’t be true.”
“No, it is.” She stroked the stem of her glass to keep from looking into his eyes. “I’m comfortable, and set in a routine. I work all day, every day, and have my nose in a book most of the time. Everything’s great, but it’s not as great as it could be, you know?”
“There’s nothing wrong with working hard and reading books, Georgia.”
Shivers tingled up and down her spine at the sound of her name on his lips. And the tenderness in his voice had her returning her gaze to his. Except instead of being a few feet away, he was right there. So close. When had he moved? His legs were inches away from hers, his hands resting dangerously close to her thigh.
Her body went on full alert—chills scattering over her skin, heart racing, breath coming up shallow—all in anticipation of his touch.
“You’re right, there’s nothing wrong with the way my life is going. It’s just painstakingly obvious that I’m missing one important piece. I’ve resorted to D-Day box dates.” And the one guy she wanted to bid on it wasn’t even going to stay in town for the event. “I must be out of my mind.”
“You simply haven’t found the right person yet,” he said. “But he’s out there.”
Could be right here, too.
“He might be planning to bid on your box date tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” she said, holding her breath. “Maybe.”
“But you don’t think so?”
Not if you’re leaving in the morning.
She fiddled with the hair falling over her shoulder. “I know better than to get my hopes up at this point. I’m starting to think it’s not possible to find the person with every single quality you’re looking for. The true love sparkle doesn’t really exist.”
“Sparkle?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m looking for. I want someone who’s going to wine and dine me. Someone who’s going to plan romantic dates and sweep me off my feet. I want the crazy can’t-think-straight whirlwind romance. I want someone who’s going to whisper in my ear and give me chills. Most of all, I want the passion and obsession of needing to be together every second of every single day.” She paused, remembering every heroine she’d ever read, and the way they felt when they were in their lovers’ arms. “That’s the sparkle.”
“Sparkle,” Grayson parroted, his voice low. “Believe me, I’ve written enough romance to know that the spark you’re talking about fades over time, and I’ve seen it happen firsthand. What you should be looking for is a man who can look you dead in the eye on your worst day and tell you how gorgeous you are. He should believe in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself. He should love you, day in and day out, even when you feel that you’ve done nothing to deserve it.” His voice was raspy now. A rich husk. “You deserve all that, Georgia. All that and so much more.”
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Hell, she couldn’t even think straight. The world around them disappeared from her peripheral vision. There was only Grayson—the glimmer of light in his blue eyes, the sexy scruffiness of his beard, and those irresistibly plush lips.
And then there was this moment, melting away like the snow.
Using every ounce of gusto she had in her body, Georgia pushed forward and smashed her mouth to his. Her stomach tumbled, and then caught, as his lips softened against hers.
Just when she thought she’d never find it, when she was this close to giving up, he brushed his fingers against her cheek and cupped her chin in his hand.
There it was…
Sparkle.
It Must’ve Been Love: Chapter Five
Grayson woke up Sunday morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of three words echoing in his head.
She deserves better.
He pinched his eyes closed, but instead of blissful blackness, a vision of Georgia invaded his mind. And then a mental image of her lips followed. Those decadent lips—soft to touch and sinful to taste—had moved against his as if they asked a question.
And he’d definitely answered.
From the moment their lips met, every nerve ending in his body had awakened. For those few seconds, everything else in the world was erased. Nothing had mattered but the sweetness of her mouth, the plushness of her lips, and the undeniable fact that he’d wanted more than she could give him out there on the beach. There’d been passion and promise in her kiss, and something he hadn’t been able to put his finger on…
She deserves better.
She’d wanted him last night—he’d sensed her desire from the moment she whimpered into their kiss. He could’ve asked her back to his tiny room at Rhonda’s B&B, and they could’ve tussled in the sheets until dawn.
He’d never wanted anything more.
But then those three words had soured everything.
She deserves better.
She needed someone who would fuel her desire to finish her book. She deserved someone who would wrap a blanket around her shoulders and pull her feet into his lap. Read to her from any one of Shakespeare’s works, and pour her a glass of her favorite StoneMill wine. She deserved someone who could give her the passion and obsession she craved, every single day of her life.
The last part stung the most.
He could never be the man she needed—one who would stick around when things got tough. It wasn’t in his DNA. He could wine and dine her, seduce her, and make her feel special, but that’s where his worth ended. And she deserved more than a one-night stand.
So he’d separated their kiss, gently pushed her away, and then he’d driven her home. He’d looked away so he wouldn’t see the sadness and disappointment in her eyes, but he knew it was there, and the thought was enough to torture him through the night.
He’d never seized up before sealing the deal before.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” Grayson exhaled heavily and threw his arms over his head. “You like her, you idiot.”
Maybe that was the problem.
Georgia wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever met. She was real. Kind and generous. Warmhearted, low-key, and understanding. She was gorgeous, too, but she’d somehow refused to let that fact go to her head. Her blond hair framed her angelic face perfectly. Bright green specks in her eyes sparkled like the richest gem he’d ever seen.
He couldn’t have written a heroine any better.
The sexy bookstore owner who was a vixen without realizing it.
Shooting upright in bed, inspiration fired through Grayson’s veins. Pillows and blankets flew to the floor as he jumped out of bed and stumbled to the computer on the desk near the back window. Flipping open the lid on his MacBook, Grayson slid into the rickety wooden chair and cued up his Word doc.
Chapter One.
Words flew from his fingers: Happily ever after couldn’t come fast enough for Greta Sawyer. She buried her nose in her favorite romance novel and…
Grayson wrote hard and fast without overthinking one word. His heroine came to life easily. Effortlessly. She wasn’t the perfect heroine like the ones he tended to write in his books. She was flawed: a little clumsy and said whatever was on her mind. She snorted when she laughed and unapologetically stood up for herself. She was a hopeless romantic, searching for a spark that would prove true love existed out there somewhere.
As the alarm on his phone went off, Grayson snapped out of the zone he’d been in. He blinked quickly and rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. The tiny clock in the upper right-hand corner of his computer screen read eleven o’clock, but that couldn’t be right.
He’d just spent the last four hours writing?
He hadn’t spent that long “in the zone” in years.
“It’s probably trash,” he mumbled.
He started skimming, the way he usually did when he was about to hit delete on the whole enchilada. But as he scanned through the new words, he fell in love with them—with Greta—all
over again. She was perfect, but not in the classical way. She was perfect for someone; she simply had to find him.
And tonight, she was going on a date with someone else.
Wait…Georgia.
“What the hell am I doing?” After clicking save, Grayson slammed the lid on his laptop and rolled back from the desk. “She’s going out with someone else tonight.”
Some other putz would be watching her smile and listening to her infectious laugh. Some other idiot would be pouring her wine and listening to her talk about her writing, and her day at the bookstore.
Possession rose in him hot and fast.
Screw that.
Agitation coiled in Grayson’s gut as he shoved his laptop into his bag. He may’ve had a signing in Yosemite tomorrow morning, but he could swing back through Blue Lake tomorrow night. Tuesday morning, at the latest. They could go out again. He couldn’t promise forever, but why’d it have to be all or nothing?
A quick shave and shower later, Grayson’s thoughts were still whirling. He tore through the B&B, giving a wave to Rhonda as he hurried out the front door. Leaving his Mustang at the curb, Grayson charged through the residential streets that led to Main Street. He didn’t exactly know where the D-Day festivities were being held, but the town wasn’t that big.
Besides, she was probably working the bookstore during the event.
He’d find her there.
As he passed between a saloon and a thrift store, soft strums of a guitar carried on the wind. Buttoning up his coat, Grayson searched the street one way and then the other.
Main Street had been closed from the fire station to SawMill Market, along with a few side streets, from what he could tell. Craft booths had been set up along the sidewalk on both sides. A band played in front of the fire station. People weaved between booths, stopping to inquire about homemade trinkets. The smell of peppermint candy wafted from the shop across the street, making Grayson’s stomach growl. Lines filed from every store, from every booth. And almost every single head was covered in a knit cap.
Everyone looked the same.
If Georgia wasn’t in her bookstore, he’d never find her before he had to leave.
*
“I don’t understand.” Shaking her head, April set her coffee on the bar inside Java Falls. “He kissed you, and then—”
“He said, ‘I should get you home.’” Georgia tried to do her best Grayson Thompson impression, but she failed miserably at sounding smooth. “At first I thought he meant get you home. You know…” She waggled her eyebrows up and down as she took another sip of her coffee. It was hot, nearly scalding her tongue. “But when he dropped me off at my studio behind the store, he held on to the wheel really, really tight and wouldn’t even look at me. It was mortifying.”
Grayson was a brazen bachelor. He’d probably kissed more women than she cared to think about. She’d been about to throw caution to the wind and let herself get swept away in the passion sparking between them.
But judging from the way he’d pushed her away, the feelings had been one-way. He hadn’t felt the same spark.
If he had, he wouldn’t have been able to stop.
She was such a fool.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Teetering on the edge of her barstool, April gave Georgia a reassuring squeeze. “He’s probably on his way out of town as we speak. You’ll never have to see him again.”
Yeah, that’s what bothered Georgia most. Despite herself, she wanted to see him again. She must’ve been a glutton for punishment.
“I actually started to fall for him.” Georgia stared out the window at the D-Day festivities. “He was so sweet, and the way he looked at me, I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I must’ve been stupid to think I was different than the others.”
“You’re not the first woman to fall for his lines. You can’t be.”
“It felt…” Sincere. Passionate. “…real.”
“He writes romance for a living. He spends all day making up stories in his head. Of course it’s going to be easy for him to make a woman fall for him.” April leaned closer. “As a loyal member of our book club, I vote we never read books by Grayson Thompson again.”
“You’re a good friend, April.” Georgia’s throat tightened. “The best.”
“I know.” April grinned and then smacked Georgia on the leg. “Now go see if you can peek at who’s bidding on your box date.”
“Oh shit!” Georgia hit her palm to her forehead. “I completely forgot.”
“Lucy spent all morning moving them from her outlet to the tables out front. Come on.” April jumped off the stool and shuffled over to the window. Yanking the curtains open, she peered into the street. “I went out earlier to take a peek, and yours is situated on the far right.”
“Something doesn’t feel right about this whole thing.” Suddenly, Georgia felt cold and clammy. Shrinking in her own skin. “I don’t think I want anyone to bid on it.”
Especially since she’d had her hopes up that Grayson would stay in town and take her out. She’d even been foolish enough to put Hamlet in the dumb thing.
“You want to pull it?” April asked, keeping her eyes on the lineup of boxes. “Are you sure? Even if Dr. MacHunky is looking through it?”
“Rusty MacDermott?” Shock shot through Georgia’s system. They’d gone to school together, and had been friends for years. “He came into the bookstore yesterday, but I missed him. I forgot to call him at the end of the day to see what he wanted. Laverne said he looked…” What had she said? “…anxious. We’re just friends, though. Why would he be looking through my D-Day box?”
April stood slowly and turned around, her eyes twinkling with mischievousness. “Maybe he’s looking to add benefits to his friend status.”
Georgia’s spirit lightened. Even if the Casanova of the Year didn’t want her, someone else did. And Dr. Rusty MacDermott was good-looking. A little uptight, but handsome nonetheless.
Through the window, Georgia watched him read the note attached to the front of her box. Then he put down the pen in his hand, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked away.
Without making a bid on it.
April met Georgia’s eyes as she took her hand. In their depths, Georgia read everything she felt. Embarrassment. Anger. But mostly embarrassment.
She couldn’t even entice Mr. Uptight to take her out.
Georgia took a deep breath. “Would you go out there and grab it? Take it down. I don’t want to do D-Day this year.”
“Are you sure?” April rubbed her hands up and down Georgia’s arms. “There are other fish in the sea.”
“You know what? I don’t need a hero in my life to make me happy. I’m going to be the heroine in my own damn story.” She snatched her purse off the bar and tossed back the last of her coffee. “I don’t like the taste of fish, anyway.”
As the door to java Falls slammed closed, Georgia looked back. April was still standing by the bar…applauding.
It Must’ve Been Love: Chapter Six
Grayson couldn’t find Georgia anywhere.
She wasn’t in the Book Bandit; Laverne said she hadn’t been in all morning. And if her assistant had any inkling where Georgia might’ve gone, she wasn’t giving up any information.
Grayson wandered through the festival with an achy ball of nerves rolling around in the pit of his stomach. He checked his watch. And then checked it again to be sure he’d read it right.
“Damn it.”
He’d pushed out his departure time as far as he could.
He couldn’t wait much longer to make the trek to Yosemite. It was going to be a long drive with snow on the roads. If he were smart, he’d head out before nightfall, before ice formed on the highway.
But he had to talk to Georgia first. He didn’t know the logistics right now, but he knew one thing with absolute, crystal-clear certainty: the thought of Georgia dating someone else made him sick to his stomach.
“Where the hell are you?” he said, po
sting up in front of the sweet-smelling Candy Shoppe.
If he couldn’t find her, at the very least he could make sure he was the highest bidder on her box. He’d leave a note, asking her to reschedule their date for tomorrow, after his signing.
That’d work…
He scanned the long row of tables holding the box dates. A woman with short dark hair moved along one of the tables, and then took one of the boxes off the end. From a distance, she looked like the woman who’d served him coffee before the book signing.
What was her name?
April…
She was cleaning up.
He was too late.
Scrambling toward the tables, Grayson searched for Georgia’s box. They all looked the same on the outside, but something inside him warned he’d know Georgia’s when he saw it.
Peering inside each one, Grayson passed boxes filled with pink rose petals, books of poetry, body lotion and shower gel, and—good God—a blindfold and whip.
Each of the boxes had a piece of paper folded up inside (probably with the woman’s name and meeting place to have the date), and a sheet of paper on the outside with bids lined up in ascending order. Bids ranged from ten dollars to two hundred. But the one with the leather toys had topped them all: two seventy-five so far.
“Wow,” he breathed, picking up the sheet to take a closer look. “Kinky.”
“Find what you’re looking for?” someone said from beside him.
He turned. It was the barista. “April, right?”
“You remembered.” She grinned and hoisted up the box in her arms. “And you stayed to make a bid on that one?”
“No, I didn’t—I’m not—“ He dropped the paper in front of the box of kink. “I’m looking for Georgia. Have you seen her?”
Her lips pursed, giving her secret away. “Not since lunch.”
“Do you have any idea where I could find her?”
April shrugged. “I heard you left town for Yosemite.”
Animosity seeped from April’s pores. Clearly, she’d talked to Georgia and believed Grayson gave her the cold shoulder by pushing her away last night.
“I’m on my way out,” he said, “but I had to talk to Georgia first.”
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