The Do-Over

by MK Schiller

  THE DO-OVER

  MK Schiller

  The Do-Over

  Copyright © October 2013 by MK Schiller

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express prior written permission from MK Schiller. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover Artist: Rockingbookcovers.com

  Published by: ALL THE WORDS LLC

  www.mkschillerauthor.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For all the kick ass women who support me every single day. Thanks for being my anchor and my wings. You ground me and help me soar.

  *** Stay tuned to the end of this book for a special excerpt of Tin Man’s Dance

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  MK Schiller Books

  Excerpt from Tin Man’s Dance

  MK Schiller

  Arrogant womanizer, Kyle Manchester hates blind dates but when best friend, Brad calls in a favor, insisting Kyle take out his girlfriend’s sister, Kyle reluctantly agrees. Attorney Lanie Carmichael’s appearance is no surprise. She is dowdy, awkward, and dressed in so many layers she resembles a wedding cake...and not in an edible way. Her brazen attitude though, astonishes him, especially when she explains she has no interest in gorgeous Kyle. Lanie Carmichael is in love with Brad, and wants Kyle’s assistance in winning his best friend’s heart.

  Kyle gradually accepts, justifying that the mystery of Lanie has sparked his natural, thirsty curiosity. As an ambitious journalist, he also can’t resist the Pulitzer worthy scoop she offers him. However, as Lanie sheds more layers, both emotionally and physically, Kyle begins to examine his life choices, and his true feelings for this enigmatic girl. With Kyle’s support, Lanie begins to unravel the secrets of her past, and the deep pain that has quietly defined her life. As they each learn more about themselves and each other, both question how a relationship built on fraudulent lies between two broken people could ever survive.

  Chapter One

  Kyle Manchester sat at Duggan’s Pub sipping the last of his top-shelf whiskey and wondering where in the hell Brad Jansen was. He was fifteen minutes late. Boy Scout Brad had probably stopped to help a blind person cross the street or take an abandoned litter of kittens to a shelter. Kyle was using the time to scope out women.

  The red-haired vixen in the corner had been eyeing him since he’d walked through the door. He nodded in her direction. She rewarded him with a sexy smile. He played his favorite game to pass the time, guessing her to be a 36 D but probably fake. He was usually right on both counts and was able to validate his estimates since he typically examined the subjects up close. He was proud of his accuracy on the size but disgusted by the amount of saline in women today. There were so few real women anymore. Getting breast augmentation was as common as having wisdom teeth pulled. It wasn’t a deal breaker though. He enjoyed women of all shapes and sizes, fake or real. Until he got bored, usually around the third time he fucked them. That was when girls started talking about relationships and that dreaded F word…future. It never failed, even though Kyle was always up-front with them. He didn’t have that special commitment gene like Brad did. The absence of that trait was as much a part of his inherent genetic makeup as his green eyes and black hair. Kyle motioned to the attractive, raven-haired bartender for another drink and ordered one for the buxom redhead too.

  “I love the way you handle the neck of the bottle,” he complimented her, displaying a sly smile that showed off his chipped tooth, a feature many women said made them wet on sight.

  “I know how to handle a bottle,” the bartender replied with a wink.

  “Hard to believe.” Kyle grinned.

  “What, that I know how to handle a bottle?” she asked, leaning over just enough to show off the slope of some promising, pert breasts.

  “No, that I’m jealous of a bottle of scotch,” he said.

  “Sorry I’m late, bro,” Brad said as he sat on the stool next to him. Kyle sighed, perturbed by Brad’s timing.

  “I’m sorry you showed up at all. I was about to close a deal with the busty beauty in the corner.” Kyle jutted his chin, gesturing to the redhead who was doing naughty things with her straw.

  “So what? You think because I sit next to you she’s going to think you’re gay or something?”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “Two minutes with me, and she’ll know I’m not gay.”

  “You’ve got more stamina these days?” Brad said, followed by a hearty laugh.

  “Put his beer on my tab,” Kyle said to the bartender. He shook his head at his childhood friend. “Two minutes doesn’t even cover the opening attractions.”

  “You know most girls want more than casual sex, right?” They’d had this conversation many times. Brad didn’t approve of Kyle’s lifestyle, but they usually joked about it.

  “Luckily, those girls have you. At least, after I’m done with them.”

  “God, you’re a whore.”

  “I don’t charge. It’s consensually casual. The way I like it. I don’t even charge you.”

  “Charge me for what?”

  “For living vicariously through me.”

  Brad chuckled, but the statement wasn’t completely false. Brad didn’t do casual, but he seemed a little too interested in Kyle’s exploits. It was apparent there was some envy there. Kyle’s eyes stayed fixed on the fiery seductress who was gaping back at him. They were having their own conversation.

  “Jesus, can you just look at me for a second? I have a favor to ask you.”

  Kyle straightened up and turned to Brad. “You didn’t just want to watch me close a deal?”

  “Entertaining as that may be, I’ll have to pass,” Brad replied dryly.

  “What do you want?”

  “You know I’ve been seeing a girl for a few months now.”

  “Yeah, um…Callie?” Kyle rarely had the ability to recall the names of girls he was with, let alone keep track of Brad’s girlfriends.

  “Cassie.” Brad rolled his eyes.

  “Sorry. Names aren’t my strong suit.”

  “Bullshit. I’ve seen you remember names I can’t even spell.”

  “If they pertain to a story.” Kyle savored his last sip and motioned for another drink.

  “Well, whatever. Anyway, I really like her a lot and…”

  “I won’t fuck her. Bros before hos,” Kyle joked.

  “Jesus, Kyle! Cassie’s no
whore.”

  “Sorry. I’m sure she’s lovely. Not that I’d know since you haven’t introduced us.”

  “Well, I want to. Actually, I was wondering if you’d be interested in going out with her sis—”

  “No.” The statement came out with such force that heads turned, conversations stopped, and even the bartender overfilled the shot glass because she was staring at them.

  “Hear me out,” Brad said.

  “I’m not into setups. You know that.”

  “Lanie’s very nice. She’s an attorney too and works at my firm. She’s very successful.”

  “Yep, and I bet she wears granny panties.”

  “You’re disgusting. Do you know how offensive you are?”

  “Offensive? To grandmas?” Kyle asked with a wicked grin.

  Brad hesitated, opening and closing his mouth, before choosing his words. “She’s not bad looking.”

  “Yeah, well, ‘not bad looking’ doesn’t mean good-looking, and even if it did, that’s way below hot.”

  “She’s a nice girl, and she’s very intelligent…and articulate…and successful.”

  “Just the kind of girl I avoid. Tell me something, Brad. Is your girlfriend hot?”

  “Cassie’s beautiful.” Brad took out his cell phone and scrolled through photos.

  “Give me that.” Kyle snatched Brad’s cell phone and laid it on the counter.

  “What are you—”

  “See how fast you responded when I asked if your girlfriend’s hot?”

  “She is.”

  “Yeah, and the sister’s successful, intelligent, and what was it?” Kyle drummed his fingers on the bar and pretended to think. “Oh yeah, articulate.”

  “Because I’m not dating her.”

  “Is Angelina Jolie hot?”

  “Hell yes,” Brad answered without pause.

  “See? No hesitation, and yet I don’t believe you’re dating Angelina Jolie. Jesus, Brad, you’re the lawyer, but I seem to be making a very strong case for myself.”

  “Look…she’s a very nice girl.”

  “Then why the hell do you want to set her up with me?” Kyle turned around, set his elbows on the bar, and smiled at the well-endowed redhead. God, she’s doing delicious things with that straw.

  “Good question. I feel sorry for her. She’s always working. She and Cassie live together. I see her working her butt off at work, and then I see her every night in front of her laptop.”

  “Oh? Does Mommy live there too? How fun for you.”

  Brad gave Kyle a warning glance. “No, it’s just Lanie and Cassie.”

  “I get it. You want me to babysit.” Even as he said it, Kyle knew that wasn’t Brad’s intent. Brad was the kind of man girls swooned over—the first to offer a loan, help a friend move, or give a stranded coworker’s car a jump in the middle of winter. He was Mr. Fantastic while Kyle was Mr. Fucktastic. It was amazing they had remained friends all these years with their differing views about most things, especially the opposite sex.

  That was except for their freshman year at Syracuse, when the friendship was tested, but it was a long time ago and a forbidden subject. “She’s a fan, and she has a crush on you.”

  For the first time in the conversation, Brad captured all of Kyle’s attention. He focused his thoughts on the conversation instead of mentally undressing the straw-sucking minx, who was probably doing the same thing to him. “I’m listening.”

  Brad displayed his own cocky smile as if he’d just put Kyle in checkmate, which in a way, was exactly what he’d done. “I thought she might like to meet you. She reads all your articles, even the ones when you were on the back pages.”

  Did girls read newspapers anymore? Certainly not the girls he dated. Why bother when they could get their news through microblogging and celebrity Twitter messages. “So she has good taste. She should read my articles. They are Pulitzer-worthy, after all.”

  Kyle was not a humble man, but his pride was supported by his stellar work.

  “I think you should meet her. Don’t fuck her. Just be a nice guy like I know you can be.”

  “Sounds like a stalker to me,” Kyle said sarcastically.

  The smile left Brad’s lips. “That’s it. You owe me, and I’m cashing in. Do you remember when I talked my client into giving you the interview over Thomas Watkins?” At the mention of the other journalist’s name, Kyle scowled. Thomas Watkins worked for the Times and Kyle worked for the Tribune. They were constantly in competition for the best stories. Kyle owed Brad for that lead, if only for the small victory over Watkins.

  Brad reached for his wallet, took out a crisp bill, and threw it on the counter. Kyle waved his hand in objection, but Brad ignored it. “This is on me, but it’s time for you to pay up, brother.”

  “I’ll take her out, but just once. I’m not running a charity here.”

  “That’s all I ask, but be a nice guy, okay? She’s very shy and sensitive.”

  “I’m always a nice guy.” Brad cocked his eyebrow, giving Kyle a doubtful look. “Fine, I’ll just pretend to be you then.” He understood why Brad thought he was disrespectful to women, but it was actually the opposite. Kyle respected women so much that he would never subject one to the turmoil of a relationship with him.

  “Good idea,” Brad said, stepping off the stool.

  The red-haired vixen sat forward in her chair, exposing her sizable cleavage as if she were displaying it just for Kyle. He nodded in appreciation, holding out his drink in a mock toast, and she crooked her finger toward him. Brad chuckled, reminding Kyle he was still there.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m meeting up with Cassie. I’ll text you Lanie’s number so you can give her a call. Tap the redhead before she starts stripping in here.”

  Kyle laughed. It was funny how Brad could always tell what he was thinking.

  Chapter Two

  Lanie tried in vain to twist the last wayward strands of her rebellious curly hair into submission. For the fiftieth time that day, she considered canceling her date. It was a ridiculous idea, born out of the heart’s foolish desires, not the mind’s rational judgment. Brad had seen her reading Kyle Manchester’s article and mentioned they were best friends. It was one of the few conversations they’d shared that didn’t involve work or Cassie, so Lanie found herself talking about the ambitious journalist all the time. It wasn’t difficult since she read everything he wrote.

  She had become a true fan after Kyle’s powerful editorial on the female sportscaster humiliated by five athletes while giving a locker-room interview. The men decided a woman had no business in their world, so they staged a protest of sorts where they strutted around her naked. The league suspended the players, resulting in a huge chauvinistic outcry that women didn’t belong in sports journalism, but Kyle Manchester had a different take. He asked his readers to imagine the sportscaster was their sister, who was being publicly reproached for doing her job. The article was strong enough to sway public opinion and made it clear that Kyle was a talented, passionate journalist.

  Brad spoke of him with both affection and criticism, telling her funny stories from their childhood. He’d suggested the setup, misunderstanding that her interest was in the subject matter, not the conversation. Lanie was hesitant at first, but the more she thought of it, the more certain she was that asking Kyle Manchester for his help was the right thing to do.

  As a lawyer, Lanie knew that what she lacked in people skills, she made up for in research and preparedness. This was no different. This wasn’t a date. It was a negotiation. It was imperative Lanie keep the upper hand with the tactical advantage of surprise. She’d practiced her presentation repeatedly, preparing for their meeting, although, when she had looked up Kyle’s profile on the newspaper’s Web site, she lost all her nerve again. She knew he was attractive from the small, grainy black-and-white photo on the newsprint, but that picture was an inadequate depiction compared to the full-size color photo of him. He was handsome, striking
ly so, with jet-black hair that forked above his eyes as if drawing the observer to his deep emerald-green orbs. He had a mysterious if not mischievous smile, encompassing the traits of a dangerous man and an impish little boy at the same time. Even in his tailored suit, he appeared to be muscular, with a wide chest and robust arms. He could have been a model. He had the kind of face that commanded compensation simply for existing. It didn’t matter though, because she knew enough of Kyle to know that his journalistic integrity didn’t stretch into his personal life. Brad described him as a man-whore without hesitation, which in Lanie’s estimation meant Kyle wouldn’t have minded the moniker.

  No, Kyle Manchester was definitely not the hero in Lanie’s story.

  “Are you getting ready for your date?” Cassie asked, walking into Lanie’s room without knocking, as was her habit. Lanie felt a twinge of guilt with her sister’s presence, but she did her best to suppress it as she’d been doing all week. She silently cursed her hair again as strands escaped from the clip she’d chosen. She glanced at Cassie’s perfect ash-blonde locks, smooth and straight as pressed silk, and wondered again how she’d received all their mother’s flawless genes. It didn’t just stop at the hair. Cassie had deep blue eyes the color of lapis lazuli, a perfectly flat belly that wouldn’t yield an ounce fat even when pinched, and cheekbones that were so high they appeared suspended in perfect precision.

  “Do I look okay?” As soon as she asked, Lanie felt like banging her forehead. She might as well have solicited a slap in the face.

  Cassie walked around her, appraising her, like a lioness on the prowl, readying to attack. “I think you’re as good as you get.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” For Cassie, it was a compliment. “Hey, I noticed your clothes in my closet again. I need the space, unless you’re giving them to me.”

  Cassie laughed. “Besides my hair accessories, I doubt anything of mine would fit you.” Cassie considered mockery the best form of comedy, especially when it came to her. As usual, Lanie let it go. “My stuff’s only in there because I don’t have enough space. Why can’t we change rooms?”