by Siera London
SIERA LONDON
CONVINCING LINA
A BACHELORS OF SHELL COVE ROMANCE
CONVINCING LINA
Copyright © 2015 SIERA LONDON
Digital ISBN: 0986424323
Print ISBN-13: 978-0-9864243-4-2
Cover art by The Author’s Secret http://theauthorssecret.com
Images licensed via Fotolia and iStockPhoto
Edited by Rebecca Martin of Bare Essentials Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For permission please contact the author at www.sieralondon.com.
This is a work of fiction. Certain real locations are mentioned, however all names, characters, events and incidents described in this book are fictitious or a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It may take a village to raise a child, but it takes dedicated minions to produce a published body of work. My gratitude to my critique partners, Tammy and Soni, they are kind even when my manuscript is a hot mess. And to my amazing editor, Rebecca Martin, you make me shine and I value your friendship. The Formatting Fairies and the talented, J. Cupp, I am so glad I found you. The women and men of the Washington Romance Writers District of Columbia chapter, I would not be a published author without your mentorship and education.
Thank you to Cherlyn, Gayle, Jershonda, Devri, Mom, Michele, and C.H. Gideon and Lina’s story is better because of you.
My writing career would not be possible without the loving support of my husband, family, and friends. Thanks for giving me new material for my stories every day. Your limitless patience and encouragement are my foundation in an ever-changing world. I love you.
Chapter 1
For the second time in a week Lina James contemplated assault and battery as a viable option. Each word complemented the other, like cheese and crackers. Or peanut butter and jelly. The sun heated her exposed arm and she sank further under her lounge chair’s protective awning. Sipping her Arnold Palmer through a peppermint striped straw, she sighed as cool rivulets of condensation trailed between the glass and her skin. A gust of warm air blew from across the water, lifting her thick tresses off her neck, blowing tendrils forward dancing before her eyes. Cool mornings with a light breeze should be mandatory in January. Even in Florida.
Eyes closed, she took another deep breath. Her abdomen expanded to maximum capacity, she relaxed into the breath as a sense of resolve settled over her.
Yes, that’s it. Assault and battery was the better choice because killing was a sin. Experienced psychiatric nurses de-escalated stressful situations with practiced control. That skill set would not be utilized this morning. Killing would be considered escalation. And Lina refused to add to her long list of recent missteps.
The rattling and musical chime of her doorbell for the twelfth time in ten minutes dampened the peaceful quiet of Sunday morning in Shell Cove. The man having the physical altercation with her front door was a bargain basement remnant item she’d tried to turn into a showroom spotlight. Slow inhale in, exhale out. The breathing exercises prepared her for the impending showdown.
“Jace Harper, if you remain at my door there’s going to be bloodshed,” she yelled over her shoulder.
Her new and improved self didn’t have emotional floor space for anymore male shenanigans. She wanted a life filled with a husband and children. Unfortunately, the universe had a penchant for hurling cosmic crap in her direction at lightning speed. Fool me once, no opportunity to fool me twice. And today marked three months plus one day since Jace Harper had made a fool of her. Couple that with six weeks of dates with bad breath, bad manners, and bad math. The last guy stuck her with the dinner bill, where he ordered a bottle of wine, an appetizer, a main entrée, and dessert to go. She was done with dating.
“Lee-na, please open the door.” Hearing the singsong quality he added to the first syllable of her name had her breathing in a hiss.
No man would have the opportunity to abandon her, because she was on a thirty day man-fast. No new relationship baggage allowed. The purge would be complete on her twenty-seventh birthday. The next man that professed to care about her would have to write his declaration on a stone tablet in blood. Bishop was the only exception. The man at her door was a one hundred and eighty-five pound human splinter. Old baggage. Excising him from her life was the first item on the sacrificial table. Failure was not an option. Unlike the men in her life, Lina never let herself down.
Swinging her feet to the ground, she leaned forward in her seat placing the petal pink vinyl bag she held on to the matching Adirondack table. The wide, dark pink shoulder strap snagged on the armchair pinning her in place. With care she dislodged the strap, gently folding the length over the bag’s zipper. Inhaling the salt filled air, Lina pushed to her feet. The cool ocean breeze kissed her dark skin. She raised her face to the sun with a smile.
Sundays spent with the sun and sea was her favorite weekend past time. Ignoring the cacophony of fist pounding intermixed with cascading chimes, she spread her arms wide, allowing the seagulls’ serene to usher in calm. The noise at the front door climbed another octave squashing her tranquil state.
“I know you can hear me. Open the door.” She let her arms fall to her side. Time to discard the baggage. Turning around, she stalked through the open balcony door, crossing the glass and steel dining kitchen combo room en route to the front entrance. At the incessant knocking and unrelenting buzzing she reached for BETAS, the smooth hardwood stick she kept by the door. Jace would be the first person to experience the power of her wood deterrent.
A leather tie long enough to slip over her wrist held it suspended by a j-hook on the adjacent wall. She was thankful the beveled glass inlay door separated her from the intended target. Standing in her foyer, she offered him a final opportunity to walk away from her welcome mat.
“I have BETAS with me and we both agree it’s in your best interest to get away from my door.” Grateful it was Sunday morning, her neighbor usually slept until noon. The thought of Estrella witnessing a live breaking news event, she could do without.
“Betas. Who is Betas?” Steam that could rival a tea kettle rolled off her at his tone and inflection. He abandoned me and he had questions? Not in this lifetime, buddy.
“Lina.” The singsong quality was gone. His voice was sharp with disapproval.
Lina grabbed the door handle, turned the lever, and pulled the door open a fraction. Jace’s lean frame darkened a sliver of her doorway. For a moment, they both regarded each other, without exchanging a word. He stood in his white, long-sleeved button down collared shirt paired with a navy sweater vest. The dark blue and green pinstriped tie she purchased for his birthday knotted to perfection at his thin neck. Khaki Dockers and black oxfords completed the ensemble. She felt her brows bunch and her lips purse. The unwelcome intrusion had her fist tightening on BETAS.
The morning breeze carried the floral amber scent of his cologne through the partially open door. It was seventy-seven degrees in the shade. Most native Floridians would consider that hot for an Atlantic coast January. Coupled with the mid-morning humidity, the smell was about as welcoming as a park trash can. Bile rose up in her throat and she swallowed in succession. Gastric disaster averted.
“It’s about time. I’m melting out
here.” Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and the bridge of his nose. The dark brown mess of curls plastered to his forehead were a sharp contrast to his pale blue eyes and reddening skin.
“Then go home.” He moved to step inside her condominium, but her full-figure blocked his path. Considering she was two inches taller in her bare feet, he was the one to halt. He regarded her, irritation clear on his boyish face.
“Does he know I’m at the door?” He had the audacity to be territorial after the crap he’d done to her.
“Who Jace?” An image of her curling her fingers around his tie, pulling him close flashed in her mind. Feeling the warmth of his breath on her chin, while she inched the knot higher up his neck. Watching as he turned a kaleidoscope of colors before losing consciousness brought a smile to her face. To kill was sinful, but to choke was divine payback. Right?
“Do I know Betas?”
“No, but he wants to meet you,” she gave a saccharine smile. The stick resting at her side seemed to pulse against her palm. The leather lariat around her left wrist felt tighter. She glanced downward, and he tracked her movement. His eyes came to rest on the stick in her hand. Eyes wide in alarm, he took a cautionary step back. Yep, caution warranted. She’d had enough of his drop by visits.
“Meet BETAS, my beat-that-ass-stick.” Jace took a step back. “If I raise this stick above my kneecap, he doesn’t go back on the wall until somebody gets their ass beat.”
“Lina, be reasonable.” Was he reasonable the night he ended their relationship? When he told her they were too different. From her wide nose to her, full lips, and even fuller hips, Lina was unmistakably an African American woman. According to Jace, being seen with her garnered too much attention. Negative attention.
“You at my door, gives me a reason to club you across the head and shoulders for every second of my life wasted.” Looking him square in the eye, BETAS had his name in queue.
“It doesn’t have to be like this between us.”
“How would you like it to be?”
“I want to see you, sometimes. What will it take to convince you I’m the man…”
She interrupted his futile effort at this point in their non-relationship.
“Convince me you’re a man by leaving, never to return.” It was his decision that created this reality TV episode at her door.
“We can come to an agreement that suits both our interests.”
“I have zero interest in a man that dumps me on our anniversary.”
“Technically, I suggested we explore other dating options, but continue caring for one another’s needs.”
“You are going to need critical care if you continue,” she hissed. “You could have told me it was over before you lured me to my favorite beach hide-a-way.”
“I wanted you to be relaxed.” This was her punishment for dating a clinical psychologist. Listen to the sound of crashing ocean waves, take deep breaths in and out while he ripped the beating heart from her chest. BETAS started inching upward.
“You are considerate,” she offered with a smirk.
“I think I am.” His shoulders dropped away from his ears as his hands relaxed at his side. Sarcasm wasted.
“You thought of everything, except that I wouldn’t welcome you to my bed while you explored other options.” The vanilla icing minus the chocolate topping on Jace’s surprise after six months together—she was too curvy, too pigmented, and too ethnic for them to have a long-term commitment. All the attributes he claimed to love about her when they’d met. Of course, that was before the second glances and off-color remarks from his family. So why was he at her door? Ah yes. He wanted on-call booty privileges.
“It was never my intention for us to end. What is it going to take for you to forgive me?”
“Forgiveness was an option before you had me removed from my nursing unit.” Scarlet crept from under his collar and spread to his face.
“You upset me by not taking my calls. I don’t want things to end between us. We were good together.” Now it was her fault that he sabotaged her career. With damp palms, she squeezed BETAS, focusing her rising anger into the tense muscles in her arm.
“It’s obvious Jace, good was not good enough.” She stepped back to close the door and he reached for her.
“It’s not like I had you fired.” The hand gripping BETAS moved faster than her conscious thought, the horizontal plane of the wood made contact with his open palm.
“You don’t get to touch me ever again,” she hissed.
“You were fine with me touching you, before I said I didn’t want to date you anymore,” he drawled. There was a look of smug satisfaction on his face. Seriously? He challenged her because she refused to give up her goodies. She’d had her fill of this conversation.
“Insightful, but it will never happen.”
“I miss you.” Harsh laughter gushed out of her, spilling over them both.
“Did you miss me before or after your hand got tired?” She saw him drinking her in from head to toe. Blessed with Jill Scott curves that men craved, and then cursed to suffer the fallout once the novelty disappeared. She was fifteen the first time a man compared her figure to the Rhythm & Blues songstress.
Regret shone on his face. “Lina give me a break.”
She was disappointed when their relationship dissipated, but to say she missed him would be a lie. Six months with Jace, paled in comparison to the single kiss she’d shared with the just-her-size psychiatrist on staff at Shell Cove Medical Center. She still wanted to drop her panties faster than the Falcon’s Fury Free Fall ride at Busch Gardens theme park just thinking about Gideon. It was in her best interest to steer a wide path away from any man for which she held a remote attraction. The men in her life never stayed.
“You’re right. I’m being snarky.” He beamed at her comment. No doubt thinking he’d won her over.
She hadn’t seen Jace’s abandonment coming, but she should have.
“Finally, we are speaking the same language.” What conversation was he a part of? For the first time, she had the opportunity to give a man his walking papers.
“Good, then I only need to say farewell once.” She should have an online certificate mounted on her wall for a four-point grade average in mending a broken heart.
“What?” Jace questioned, his voice high pitched. Never one to leave a loose end, Lina looked him in the eye, as she launched the second strategic deterrent in her male detoxification plan.
“One more thing before you leave. Stop sending those awful white roses.” His perplexed look made her ire rise.
“White roses symbolize innocence, chastity, everlasting love, and sympathy. The first three are inapplicable, and I don’t need your sympathy, so stop sending them.”
“But, I’m making an effort to…” She leveled him with a vicious stare. He stopped talking. She thought about the effort he put into planning their break-up. It was ingenious really—dinner, dancing, and a remote corner of the beach on a starlit night. Perfect.
“I have a new mantra thanks to you,” she let a peaceful expression cover her face.
“What is it?”
Using the singsong voice he favored, she said, “No effort, no entry, and definitely no more jackassery.” His mouth gaped out in silent outrage.
As if queued by some offsite director, Estrella’s South American accent reached her ear before she heard footsteps.
“Lina?” Her new food buddy’s warm olive face, bare of make-up and framed by shiny ebony locks came into view. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Jace, whose scowl resembled a petulant two-year old.
“Is everything okay?” Eyes rolling heavenward, Lina exhaled a large breath willing herself not to push Jace over the stone railing. Embarrassed, she turned to address her friend.
“I’m fine, Estrella. Dr. Harper was just leaving.”
“I was not. We still need to talk.”
“I should call the police.” Though offered as a sign of support, Lina could hear the h
esitancy in the other woman’s voice.
“No, you should not,” Jace said, in a raised voice. No doubt offended that she would suggest such an action.
“No worries, I have a friend here with me that’s itching to make contact with Dr. Harper.”
Taking in the added pallor to Jace’s complexion he recalled that BETAS was ready for action.
“I wonder what would happen if BETAS accidentally…” Jace interrupted before she could finish her sentence.
“This is the way you want it to be between us?” She nodded.
“I’m done with you, boo boo.”
“Colorful, Lina. You might change your mind.”
“Too colorful for you, remember. Get off my doorstep before you have a leading role in the live adaptation of Misery.” Jace smiled, but his teeth were clenched tight and his face had reddened tenfold in the past five minutes. Unsure if the burgeoning redness to his face was from the heat or heightened emotion she was tempted to offer him a bottle of water before she sent him on his way.
“I’ll see you at work in the morning,” he said. Now why did that sound like a threat?
Chapter 2
A killer didn’t belong in a hospital. In reality, he didn’t belong anywhere or to anyone. Compliments of his tour in Afghanistan, Doctor Gideon Rice had more experience as an instrument of destruction, than as a psychiatrist, but failure was not an option. That’s what his colleagues expected of his Wounded Warrior Recovery initiative.
Gideon stood at the psychiatric clinic’s check-in desk looking out at the patient waiting room. Uniformed personnel filled the seats to capacity and he needed an experienced nurse in the next forty-five minutes. The clinic couldn’t maintain this length of volume without appropriate staffing. He glanced down at the clerk seated in front of dual computer terminals.