by Candi Heart
A surge of anger boiled in my veins as I remembered our last encounter, the way he insisted on stressing the title before my name, as if it was some kind of insult, but Matt was more than up for the challenge.
“She’s trying to get some rest on the couch. Is there something I can help you with?”
Preaker’s eyes lit up with excitement and recognition. “Uh, no. But you’re... You’re that famous author. I saw you on television.”
“I’m Matt.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’ve never met anyone famous before.”
“I’m not anything special.”
“I’ve seen you all over the place. This is such an honor!”
“And I hope you’re here with honorable intentions.”
“I was... I’m simply here to wish Ms. Catson luck with her open house tomorrow. I know there’s a lot riding on it...”
Matt’s eyes flashed pure murder before he gave the man a chilling smile. “There sure is, isn’t there? Don’t worry, though. Ms. Catson is an excellent business owner.”
He actually managed to meet Matt’s gaze for a half-second to ask the same question that lurked in my head. “I’m sorry? I’m not sure what you mean by that. She doesn’t have the proper money to be a business owner. I do give her credit for trying though.”
Matt stared him right in the eyes, smiling and utterly refusing to blink. “I’m giving Alana the money for the down-payment. Just had it wired over this morning.”
My eyebrows shot into my hair, and for a split second, my heart froze. When I tentatively allowed my breathing to resume, I convinced myself that he had to be lying. Yeah, just messing with Preaker’s head.
Preaker, however, was completely fooled. His mouth fell ajar for the second time, and without thinking, he actually took a step closer. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he dared, “You just... You gave her the money?”
Matt’s face sharpened into a predatory smile, the kind that would have sent most people scurrying to the other side of the street. “Well, I consider it a wise investment. I’ve seen her roster of clients, toured the office, and attended a fundraising event of hers in the past.” He straightened slowly, casually flexing every muscle in his body as he did so. “Frankly, I think I’d be an idiot not to invest in it. Don’t you?”
As if I was immersed in a heated match in the U.S. Open, my eyes darted from one to the other.
Preaker stared in terror for a moment, then nodded so fast that I feared his head might actually fall off right there on my doorstep. “Yes, yes, of course I do! That’s exactly why... As I said, I just stopped by to wish her well. Please, uh... pass the word along for me.”
Matt nodded slowly, watching the man trip all over himself as he hastened back down the steps and stumbled down the walkway. “Hey, Preaker!” Matt called when the vermin was almost to his car.
Preaker froze in his tracks, then, like a kid turning to face a tiger, he rotated slowly around.
Matt hadn’t moved an inch, and his face was still fixed in that chilling smile. “You know, it’s pretty kind of you to take time out of your busy schedule to come all the way out here and wish Alana good luck.”
If only it had ended there, things might have been okay, but maybe Preaker should have been wishing himself good luck that day instead.
“Tell me,” Matt said, his eyes flashing dangerously, “can we expect you to be so kind in the future?”
For a second, neither man moved. Then, Preaker’s body crumbled in a strange way that made it look almost like he was attempting to bow.
“Have a pleasant evening, sir. I doubt we’ll see each other again.”
“No,” Matt said coldly, “I doubt we will.” Then, without another word, he slammed the door on the man, just as I had before.
Preaker darted the rest of the way to his car in a panicked blur, still muttering to himself and shaking his head, while Matt swept gracefully back to the couch. Even as I gazed up at my new lover in sheer astonishment, he just silently and smoothly slid back into bed, pausing only to kiss me sweetly on the cheek.
“Oh, before I forget,” he said suddenly, “that Preaker guy wanted to wish you good luck tomorrow. He seems to think you’re on track for bigger and better things.”
There was a split second of silence before I leapt upon him and let out a shriek. “What the heck is wrong with you?” I cried, laughing uncontrollably as I replayed the scene over and over in my mind. “I can’t believe you just did that!”
Matt bowed his head and wore a guilty but adorable grin. “Well, you did give me permission to talk to him.”
I lost it all over again, wiping tears of laughter from my face as I snuggled back into his arms. “Oh, my gosh, Matt! The look on his face when you fibbed to him about giving me the money! That moment is gonna haunt that pathetic little man to his grave!”
Matt stiffened slightly as the grin faded nervously from his face. “It wasn’t a fib, Aly. I meant it, every word.”
It took a minute for me to stop laughing, then another minute to register his sudden change of tone, then another minute after that to try to make sense of what he’d just said, but I had no such luck. “I’m sorry?” I tilted my head to the side, staring at him in confusion. “What?”
He measured my gaze for a second, then pulled in a shaky breath. “I sent a check to Mrs. Waverly this morning.”
There was a beat of silence before I pulled stiffly out of his arms.
“You didn’t,” I said matter-of-factly, but the look on his face told me otherwise, and now it was my jaw’s turn to mimic Preaker’s, dropping almost to the floor. “You... did?”
“I’m sorry,” he blurted, offering the world’s most ironic apology. “I know you put together a plan to raise the money yourself, and it’s a great plan. I mean, I know your fundraiser tomorrow, your open house, will be a huge success. It’s just...”
“Just what?” I coaxed.
He flushed and looked down at the bed. “Just that... I really wanted to give it to you.”
I blinked, looked away in a search for clarity, then blinked again. “But I-I don’t understand,” I said slowly. “You just... You gave me the money, wrote a check, just like that.” I didn’t phrase it as a question, even though it would have made sense to; the fact was that nothing about any of it made any sense at all to me.
He nodded slowly, anxiously avoiding my eyes. “I really hope it’s okay. If not—if you need to do this completely on your own—I will understand. You can use the money for something else, maybe pet supplies or food for Dick or—”
I held up a trembling hand, holding myself together by only a thin layer of control. “Why?” I asked.
“Because for once, I agree with that Preaker prick.”
“Huh?”
“I also believe you are on track for bigger and better things, and I’d like to be part of that, to help you get there.”
“And when did you write this check?” Suddenly, it was the most important question in the world. Did he write it after he realized Steph was cheating on him, when he thought there was a chance we could be together, or did he write it before he left? Was it just some sort of guilt-ridden farewell gift? The answer mattered, for a million reasons, and I had to hear it.
His bright eyes locked on mine, and he answered with quiet sincerity, “Two months ago, right after you showed me your office for the first time. Look at the date on the check.”
Right there, in that moment, my life officially changed for the better. Without another word, I slid into his lap. A silent sigh of relief trembled through him as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly on the lips. “Thank you,” I said softly, staring deep into his eyes. “Thank you for believing in me so much. I’m going to have my first real business. And it’s going to be a roaring success. I can’t... Gosh, Matt, I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
A faint blush colored his cheeks as he gave me a twinkling smile and a nonchala
nt shrug. “It’s the least I can do, for a business associate.”
“What?” I asked, now more confused than ever.
“Well, you did help me write my book, Aly. I couldn’t have done it without you, as a matter of fact.”
“Your book?” I pulled back, with a frown on my face. “What are you—”
“You’re my leading lady,” he said simply, “the beautiful, illogical, hysterical, whimsical girl I met when I moved to the city, the one who rescues animals and makes homemade popsicles, who’s secretly afraid of the subway and spies on people through the fence in her backyard, the girl who has no shame in running down the street hollering for Dick!”
I looked away with a blush, but he caught me gently by the chin.
“It’s the story of how I fell in love with you, when I was supposed to be writing a story.”
My heart was beating so fast that I thought it might explode. All at once, a million little things clicked into place: the way his agent already knew who I was; the way he watched me with a little smile, his eyes taking in every detail; the way he walked past my house every night for two months, searching for inspiration. Apparently, he had found it, surprisingly enough, in me.
Without another word, I slid back onto his lap. I felt his strong arms wrapped tightly around my back as I tilted my head to the side with a sly smile. “So this book... Is it any good?”
The two of us shared a passionate kiss before his lips pulled back in a grin.
“I don’t know yet. I guess you’ll just have to stick around and see!”
My heart soared, and I knew I’d found someone who wasn’t shallow. He loved me for my voluptuous frame and soft, squeezable curves.
He loved me for just me.
The End
Love Handles – book 3 in the Curvy Hips and Sexy Lips Series is next!
Available now!
Keep turning the pages and read the first three chapters!
Racing Hearts - Book 1
Walking Dick - Book 2
Love Handles - Book 3
Big Escapes - Book 4
Sweet Treats - Book 5
NOTE: Books can be read in any order Each is a standalone HEA.
By
Copyright 2017© Candi Heart
Copyright 2017© Pinard House Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover & Series Art: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover By Design
Copyediting & Formatting: Carolyn Pinard
Racing Hearts - Book 1
Walking Dick - Book 2
Love Handles - Book 3
Big Escapes - Book 4
Sweet Treats - Book 5
NOTE: Books can be read in any order Each is a stand alone HEA.
Love Handles BLURB:
LATELY, CUTE AND CURVY Emilie Swan has been feeling a little underappreciated.
As a design assistant at a New York City studio, she should be on the path to her dream job in fashion, but she feels more like a glorified gopher than part of the design process. Her boss prefers to promote thinner, more glamorous girls, keeping her in a back office where no one will see her. She keeps herself sane by working on her own projects in her spare time, but even that and a little retail therapy don’t seem to be doing the trick anymore.
Then Nicholas Tessaro drops in for a visit.
Nick is gorgeous and talented, New York’s newest, hottest fashion designer, and he thinks her sketches are worth a second look. Emilie thinks he’s just plain hot. When he offers her a job, she jumps at the chance. Then one lunch date that goes oh-so wrong threatens to ruin everything. Emilie may just lose her dream job and dream man all in one day.
Chapter 1
“EMILIE!”
The head designer’s voice cut through the low buzz of conversation in the studio, sharp as the crack of a whip, and I looked up from the schedule in my hand, sighing inwardly. Was five minutes to sit down and finish the revisions too much to ask?
“Yes?” I called out.
“I need the patterns for the Dexter piece. And while you’re collecting them, swing by Michaela’s office and get the mood board for the gala project. I want to reassess the color scheme.”
Yes, sir. You’ve got it, sir. I didn’t take the time to verbalize the response. When Mr. Novak asked for something, he wanted it right away. And he certainly didn’t appreciate sarcasm.
Four years ago, I wouldn’t have minded being little more than a glorified gopher. But four years ago, I’d been an unpaid intern just getting into the industry. Nearly half a decade later, and now promoted to design assistant, I should be doing more than collecting fabric swatches and retrieving coffee. Shaking my head, I ducked out of the way of one of the public relations assistants as he scurried past with a small stack of papers in his hand. The narrow hall barely fit both of us, and he gave me a dirty look from under his eyelashes as he turned slightly sideways to avoid bumping against my hip. I resisted the unprofessional urge to flip him off. If he had a problem with my size, that was his issue.
It was getting harder to keep my frustrations to myself, I reflected, as I rapped lightly on the door of the pattern room to alert them of my entrance before I swung it open, just in case someone was standing in its range. I hadn’t spent $50,000 on a degree just to waste the rest of my life playing errand girl for a head designer who refused to delegate all but the littlest aspects of his projects.
“Morning, Em.” The patternmaker looked up from her computer screen, offering a commiserating smile. “You look like you’re having the kind of day I am.”
Emilie rolled my eyes as I crossed the room to the table where the patterns Mr. Novak wanted were laid out. “Tell me about it. My alarm didn’t go off this morning, so I didn’t have time to stop for coffee. And of course every time I get within five feet of the coffee machine, Mr. Novak needs something run somewhere. I’m going to collapse from exhaustion before noon.”
Jenna laughed. “That’s the fashion industry for you.”
“That’s not even the part I actually mind,” I confessed, turning with the envelope in my hand and leaning back against the edge of the table. “It’s that I... Well, I’d hoped I’d be a bit farther along by now. You know?”
For the first time, Jenna’s eyes lifted from her screen for more than two seconds at a time. I spun my chair around, crossing one leg over the other, and folding my hands on my knee. “Honestly, when you started working here, we thought you’d be getting special treatment. But I think he turned around and went completely the other direction with it. Maybe he’s afraid it’ll look like favoritism if he doesn’t push you hard.”
It was my turn to laugh. “It might seem that way, but I don’t think the thought even crosses his mind. It’s not like we’re close, either. Just because he’s my mom’s cousin doesn’t mean I've any kind of emotional connection to him. Or that he has one to me.” I grinned at Jenna, hoping the other woman couldn’t see that the expression was more than a little forced. “Anyway, I think his real issue is the fact that I’m not a size zero or petite size two.”
The idea was one I hadn’t allowed myself to verbalize before. I had barely even allowed it to crystallize in my mind, because I was afraid that once I thought it, I wouldn’t be able to turn it off.
There was a part of me that hoped Jenna would tell me I was wrong, t
hat there had to be some other reason for the fact that the boss always kept me out of the public eye. The fact that his other design assistant had been working for the company half the time I had, but was already being allowed far more space to assist with projects than I had been given, didn’t go unnoticed by me. At all.
Jenna sighed, and I knew I wasn’t going to get what I had hoped for. It was written across the patternmaker’s face. “So I’m right.” I pressed my lips into a thin line and picked up the pattern I’d set aside. “I guess it figures in the fashion industry.”
“Don’t take it to heart, Em.” Jenna gave me a look which meant well.
However, it just made me more annoyed. I didn’t need sympathy—or pity. But I couldn’t exactly be mad at the other woman for trying to be kind, so I forced another smile, lifting my shoulder in a shrug and letting it fall. “His opinions don’t determine my feelings about my own body,” I said firmly. Nor does anyone else’s. I stalked out of the room before Jenna had any time to answer, heels click-clacking against the wood floor. I always loved that sound; it felt like power. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, and then gave the next intern I passed a look that had him dropping his gaze and ducking out of my way.
When I returned to the workroom, Novak was on his knees pinning the hem of a skirt. He didn’t look up as I dropped the requested items on his desk.
There were a million-and-one things to get done. For once, Novak left me alone long enough to actually get through a couple items.
At least it was Friday, I thought as I inputted the schedule into the system for the rest of the designers and assistants. There was no guarantee I wouldn’t be summoned in halfway through the weekend, but a morning of sleeping in and a chance to maybe indulge in a little retail therapy was promising.
I spent lunch at my desk, eating the pasta salad I’d brought with me and tuning out the chatter of the other people in the room. At least a few of them would’ve been more than happy to include me in their conversations, but I found I wasn’t in the mood for it. Idly, I sketched lines on a piece of scrap paper.