Love Uncharted

by Berinn Rae

  “And I’m Alex. Alex Zurich. Remember me?”

  JJ leaned her head forward, scrutinizing the pair. “Oh … my … God … you’re not … you couldn’t be.”

  Then she fainted.

  “Didn’t see that one coming, did you, Alex?”

  Chapter 2

  JJ woke nearly eyeball to eyeball with the self-proclaimed fictional heroine of her novel. The author squealed, startling the other female, who let out a squeal of her own.

  Note to self: Don’t squeal. Head pounds worse. She felt as if someone had pumped her head full of helium to the point where it would stretch past its limit and burst at any minute.

  Nervously, she squirmed backwards trying to put as much distance as possible between the alleged heroine of her book and herself. But she couldn’t go far. It was at that point she realized she was lying on a loveseat. Oh, it’s all coming back to me now. She glanced around. Yep! She was still in her office. The man who claimed to be the hero from her book had been pacing directly behind his partner. With arms extended behind his back, head down, staring at the carpet, he determinedly walked back and forth … back and forth while the female had been standing guard over her. The squeals jolted him out of his reverie and he strode over.

  “I’m sorry,” the dark-haired beauty said, now kneeling in front of the sofa. “We never intended to scare you like that.”

  The man voiced an apology as well. Gingerly, he sat on the arm of the couch, taking her hand. “Never expected you to keel over like that, love.”

  “We didn’t think you’d mind if we just popped in on you while you dozed a bit,” he said. “We knew you were working on our love story just about nonstop and you know we adore your devotion to us and all but you really need to kick back some and take care — ”

  “Blake!” Alex reached up and lightly slapped him on the shoulder. She looked him squarely in the eyes. Even in her befuddled state, it was obvious to the romance writer the love and dedication this woman had for her hero by the way she gazed into his large, chocolate brown eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. But we really did want to be there when you woke up,” Blake said.

  The heroine shook her head vigorously. “You see, you’ve taken such good care of us the last couple of months,” she added, continuing her partner’s train of thought, running her hand through her thick, dark brown hair, as if she were searching for the right words. The long hair fell to one side. JJ swore she heard Blake whimper.

  “You’ve spent so much time and effort developing our characters, making sure our lives were on the right track, keeping us from taking the wrong turn in the road, so to speak, that we wanted to return the favor to you.”

  “Some favor, huh? Making you fall over in a dead faint? Just what kind of grateful characters are we, anyway?” Blake looked sincerely apologetic — and handsome. No wonder Alex fell in love with him so hard, JJ thought. That is if these two were really from her novel. Which seemed totally impossible. But who were they?

  The beleaguered writer took a deep breath, and then exhaled. She thought that maybe she was experiencing some existential meltdown. But since she didn’t quite know what existentialism was, she couldn’t be sure.

  On the surface, it appeared the main characters from her current work in progress were standing in her den. For apparently no good reason. Not that if they had an obviously good reason for being there it would make it easier to understand.

  JJ felt the two staring down at her. A bit unnerving to say the least. She slowly sat up.

  “Be careful,” the female cautioned. “You were out for a while.” Attempting to stand, JJ quickly determined it was beyond her capabilities, at least for the moment. Sitting back down, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

  What kind of trick is my mind playing on me? She opened her eyes again and scrutinized the man who said he was Blake Teasdale, the hero from her book in progress, Love’s Surprise.

  At 6 feet, he certainly fit the bill. He had black wavy, nearly unruly, hair that danced wildly from side to side as he talked. The more animated his speech, the wilder his hair jostled about his tanned, ruggedly handsome face. And the more passionate he appeared on the topic at hand, the more his hair bounced.

  It really didn’t matter what he talked about, the novelist recalled from the description of him she had painted. He was passionate about everything. And that was the trait that initially drew Alex Zurich to him. Now, it was coming back to her — the heroine also loved the man because he could make her laugh.

  And Alex … well, she was beauty personified. The author liked to think she endowed her with every good quality she personally lacked. She also envisioned this fictional character as a classic beauty — something no one had ever accused JJ of being.

  The novelist took another look at her. At nearly 5 feet 9 inches, this character had a small waist, slender hips and … she was … yeah, well endowed. Just enough to make her extremely attractive and mildly seductive. All of this was set off by her long, shapely legs that were seldom hid by a pair of jeans. In so many ways, she was a throwback to the 1940s pin up model.

  If men were initially attracted to Alex because of her body, they were equally as intrigued by her face. Her dark hair framed green eyes that flashed when she was angry but sparkled like expertly cut emeralds when she laughed.

  Now that she looked at them in more detail, JJ realized she did know them. Why of course! They were creations of hers, even though she couldn’t explain how they came to be standing in front of her like this.

  “I smell coffee,” she said, slowly emerging from her fog-like state. “Is there any left? I could really go for a cup right about now.” Actually, she could use a stronger type of beverage, but coffee would have to do.

  “Oh, yeah, there’s a quite a bit left,” he said, his voice brightening up a bit. “I’ll get you a cup.”

  From the kitchen, he called, “I hadn’t known you drank my favorite brand of coffee — Starbuck’s French Roast. What a coincidence.”

  Letting her guard down some, she couldn’t help but smile as she pleasantly answered, “Why do you think it’s your favorite?” What am I saying, talking to him like he’s really the hero from my book? Blake entered the room and handed her the coffee, leaning casually against her desk so he was across from her.

  “Quite clever. Quite clever.” Alex positioned herself next to JJ on the sofa.

  JJ took the coffee cup and tried to lift an eyebrow like she had some of her favorite characters do. But they refused to work independently of each other. So she had to settle for communicating through words, “How so?”

  “Most people, upon discovering I’m English, naturally assume I drink only tea. But no, you break that stereotypical mold and make me an avid coffee lover. Touché!”

  With some hot java circulating through her system, JJ could feel that helium in her head dissipating. The violent pounding eased. As her head cleared, JJ relaxed a bit. Surprisingly, she was beginning to feel quite at ease with these two intruders — whoever they were.

  Then Alex decided it was time to pursue the real reason for their visit in a little more detail. She turned her body so she was facing JJ. “Can’t you see you two were made for each other?” she pleaded.

  “Of course,” the Englishman volunteered. JJ swiftly looked in Blake’s direction attempting to make sense of the conversation. “Think of the encounter as a scene from one of your novels. All you need to do is kiss him, jump him, and get on with the good part of the relationship.”

  At that, JJ gagged and spit out her coffee. Alex glared at him. “What?!” he said innocently. “I was only agreeing with you!”

  “What he’s trying to say is that your chance meeting sounds exactly like something you’d write in one of your novels. And you know darn well that if you had written this, and you weren’t the main character of this episode (as you are!), the two of you would be approaching a love scene by now!”

  The author looked at them blankly. “And just what and who are you tal
king about?”

  “Why, Professor Kennedy King Cooper, of course! And don’t try to tell me you don’t remember him. You have to be totally out of it not to take note of a hunk like that!”

  JJ, stunned by the subject of the conversation, didn’t even question how they knew about this dismal episode in her life. She hurriedly countered their amazingly stupid suggestion. The audacity of these two.

  That … that man was the most ill-mannered, arrogant … She stopped herself in mid-thought, turning toward Alex.

  “Oh, come on. You mean that man in the bookstore? I’ll never see him again. And thank goodness for that. He’s a sexist, elitist egotist.”

  “You liked him that much,” Blake mumbled. Alex nudged him in the ribs.

  “What?!” he whispered.

  Chapter 3

  The petite auburn-haired writer shook her head, thinking about that incident. She remembered it as if it happened yesterday. Wait! It did happen yesterday!

  The “encounter” had started innocently enough … but then these things always did. Somehow, it had snowballed into a series of totally inane incidents. Before she knew it, she was knee deep into a conversation. Okay, it boiled over to a heated argument — with a total stranger (granted, a handsome total stranger) from which she couldn’t excuse herself.

  And in some ways, she thought wistfully, it really was a shame. For the first few moments of their meeting, she did feel that special spark she endowed her heroines with. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she might say she was sexually attracted to him. That’s silly, though, you can’t be drawn to a man you don’t even know. That sort of emotion is … well, for the pages of fiction.

  She had bumped into him — literally — at a book signing at the local bookstore, A Likely Story. After nearly an hour of nonstop smiling and autographing, JJ finally slipped away to browse the shelves. Being a former history professor herself, she naturally drifted to the history section of the store. Her eyes became laser beams as they locked in on all the new releases she’d missed the last several months since she’d buried herself in her fictional world. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking. And she walked right smack dab into him. Embarrassed, she looked up at him (Darn! Being five-two always seemed to put her at a disadvantage!). She apologized, but couldn’t help notice that he was not only good looking, but radiated a definite sensual aura. He appeared stately and almost distinguished, but something about his demeanor told her he had a lighter side to him.

  He was tall, but, heck, everyone appeared tall to her! At least five ten, he even could have been six feet, though, for all JJ knew. His dark brown hair was so meticulously coifed, she couldn’t help but wonder if he were a news anchor.

  His face looked surprisingly rugged for a figure that cut a stately stature. He possessed angular facial features, a square jaw, aquiline nose … features that, when viewed separately would appear harsh — even craggy. When combined on this man, though, they created an alarmingly handsome demeanor.

  His sepia-brown eyes and the way the creases formed around them when he smiled revealed an innate boyish charm. If she were creating a hero for a novel, she would model the character after him.

  It felt as if someone had trickled ice water down her spine as she took a step away from him. Then almost instinctively she checked what she was wearing. She couldn’t remember!

  She wore — as was her custom for a professional appearance — her most conservative clothes. White button-up blouse, men’s cut, buttoned rather high, and a brown jacket were thrown over a pair of nice but not overly tight jeans. Wouldn’t you know it? When she dressed that morning she thought she presented a tastefully refined appearance. Now there were only two words she used to describe her appearance: Dowdy. Frumpy. And, yeah, ten years older than her actual age. Okay, so that ended up being more than two words. She stopped there, even though could have continued on in that vein for a while.

  Just my luck, JJ thought, bedraggled ex-history professor meets hunk at book store — hunk yawns, excuses himself in a panic, and breaks the sound barrier running in the opposite direction.

  Surprisingly, he didn’t run. Instead he struck up a conversation. They chatted politely about history. It seemed like the obvious topic with World War II flashing at them from the shelves and the civil rights movement towering over them. Then he made a remark about the book signing. JJ listened to it, amused, and then she slowly turned irritated as he rambled on about the absurdity of the “trash” of romance novels (his exact words, she recalled).

  “It’s refreshing to see a woman who appreciates the finer points of an education,” he told her, “and doesn’t stoop to reading such mindless garbage. Only a hopelessly inane bimbo would read that stuff. And I couldn’t imagine what type of woman would actually lower herself to such depths to write that drivel.”

  Just at that moment, as fate would have it, a fan walked up to JJ. “Excuse me, Ms. Sprightly. I hate to bother you, but the clerk said you wouldn’t mind. Would you please sign my copy of Love’s Revenge?”

  She smiled, retrieved all the details needed for the autograph, chatted for a few moments with her fan, and then turned back to the gentleman. “And you were saying — ?”

  The man’s jaw hung open wider than the entrance to a cavern. She, however, glowed. “Yep, that’s me,” she said. “And by the way, you know what this hopelessly inane bimbo — those were your words, weren’t they? — did before she became a full–time author? This bimbo was a history professor.” JJ abruptly turned on her heel, smiling broadly as she headed for the in-store café. She bought her favorite coffee, a caramel mocha, grabbed an Asiago pretzel as a treat, and went back to her seat at the book–signing table. Oh, yeah! Life was good!

  Later the man stopped by the booth to apologize. JJ smiled graciously. Her thoughts, though, were anything but gracious. What a waste of a sexy, attractive body. It’s stuck in the mindset of such a pompous ass. Just my luck to finally meet a guy with some chemistry to him — and maybe some similar interests — and he’s not just the frog, but the pompous ass as well. And that’s my modern fairy tale.

  “May I make this up to you?” he offered. He had asked for her phone number, but she declined to give it to him. Not to be brushed aside quite so easily, he handed her his business card. “Kennedy King Cooper, Professor of History, University of Northern Ohio,” it read.

  “If you should like to go for coffee some time and help me remove my foot from my mouth, I’d be grateful.”

  She held the card for a moment, almost tempted to take it. He did look attractive there in a boyish sort of way, part pouting, part pleading for a second chance to make a first impression. And, yes, she really did feel some type of attraction to him — pompous ass or not! But something told her not to take the card. She politely handed it back to him. “No thank you. I don’t think we have much more to talk about.” Thankfully, an individual with a book to sign walked up, signaling the end of the conversation.

  • • •

  “But he didn’t mean to be such a sexist, elitist egotist, JJ.” Alex pleaded the professor’s case for him. Remember the absolute bozo Blake was when I first met him? And we overcame it.”

  Blake’s eyebrows scrunched together, his lower lip jutted out as he quietly muttered, “Bozo? I was a bozo?”

  Alex calmly shook her head and took his hand. “You were a loveable bozo, honey.”

  JJ, shaken from her reverie by Alex’s comments, looked at her two characters. They peered at her, still expecting some reaction.

  Lowering her voice to almost a whisper, JJ said with a controlled anger, “He came off as a perfect pompous ass … ”

  Chapter 4

  “I did try to make amends by offering her my card. It was futile to think after that encounter that she would call me,” Kenn said as he stared trancelike into his cappuccino. He sat across from his college roommate, Rob Jenson, in a booth at the Physics Café, just off the campus of the University of Northern Ohio.

>   “Where did you meet this woman?” Rob asked as he swirled the coffee in his cup.

  “At the bookstore. I saw her out of the corner of my eye,” Kenn said. “We accidentally bumped into each other in the history section. That’s when I made a pompous ass out of myself. For a fleeting moment, I thought I may have found the woman of my dreams — beautiful and fiery.”

  He took the last sip of his coffee, then said, “And I didn’t know that I was about to find out just how fiery.”

  “What happened?” Rob asked.

  “I said something about admiring women who liked history. But I went just a bit too far in my compliment.”

  Rob raised his eyebrows, indicating he wanted Kenn to continue.

  “I had seen a table set up for some romance novelist who was doing a book signing. So I said something about why any woman would read romance novels, let alone write them. That’s when I found out she was the author signing those books.”

  Rob gagged and spewed coffee all over the table. He coughed and placed his napkin over his mouth.

  “You okay?”

  Rob nodded yes, then finally managed to speak. “You say she was the novelist?”

  “Yeah. I was pretty blunt in my opinions,” Kenn said, as he wiped the table. Not waiting for Rob to reply, he continued. “It’s sad, because if my mouth hadn’t worked faster than my brain, I may have had a real chance to get to know this woman.”

  He paused. “But then again, why would I want to know a woman who writes such utter nonsense?”

  “Kenn, why don’t you come to dinner one night? Nan knows some really nice women who would be perfect for you. A nice, friendly atmosphere, no pressure?”

  Kenn laughed. “Not that again! I remember the last woman you introduced me to. What were you thinking? We had absolutely nothing in common.”

  “I’m thinking about one person in particular. I think you two would get along really well.”

  “I think I’ll pass.” Kenn looked into his cup. “I have to come to terms with the fact that everything happens for a reason. And this encounter is no different. After all, do I really want to spend the rest of my life with someone who writes romance novels? I think not.”