Dream Guy

by Dream Guy (lit)

  So size didn’t matter at all.

  Kate simply wouldn’t allow size to matter.

  She blinked twice, willing his naked image to go away. It didn’t. He was still nude, rippling muscles everywhere calling out and begging to be touched. The total opposite of Harold, she thought briefly, whose only interest had been in passing the bar, not in pumping one.

  And the significance of the imaginary colossal boner?

  No. She wasn’t going to go there. Not without further therapy.

  He was still heading straight in her direction. Kate squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, praying her silly fantasizing had passed. But yikes! Now he was staring back at her just as intently.

  Oh God.

  Had he read her mind?

  Of course not. That was impossible. There was no way he could have known what she’d been thinking.

  Still, the look on his face was more than just perplexed. He looked shocked. As if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

  She sent a nervous look around her. The crowd of people milling in and around the exhibit couldn’t have been more orderly. There were a few couples, several small groups, some lone art admirers. Many of them regular customers, showing their support for Anderson Gallery of Fine Arts. Everyone was even speaking in hushed tones, as if the exhibit were being held inside at her grandmother’s prestigious art gallery in Soho, one of the most notable art galleries in the city.

  No, nothing was amiss with the crowd.

  Nor would he find anything wrong with her paperwork, if that was the reason for the concerned look on the officer’s face. She had her permit and everything else in order right there on her clipboard.

  But wait.

  Was he looking at her?

  Or was he staring at the painting beside her?

  Kate glanced at the large oil painting sitting on an easel to her right. She had never cared for the artist who called himself “Apocalypse.” His paintings were usually dark and violent. But there was nothing offensive about this painting. Who could possibly be offended by a painting of the Madonna and Child?

  She squared her shoulders when the officer pulled on the reins, bringing his mount to a stop a short distance away from her. He slid one leg easily over the back of the horse. The second his shiny black boots hit the ground, he became fully clothed again. He walked up and stopped in front of her, the name on his badge announcing he was Officer Anthony Petrocelli.

  An Italian on a stallion, Kate thought.

  No wonder her libido had kicked into overdrive the minute she saw him.

  Kate followed his gaze to the painting. “From your expression, I can’t tell if you like this painting, or if it disturbs you. And that’s a first for me. I can usually read people pretty well.”

  His sexy grin caught her off guard.

  Kate tensed.

  She was not going to let her gaze drift any lower than his chin, even if he held his gun to her head.

  He didn’t reach for his revolver. Instead, he unsnapped his chin strap and took off his helmet. Mercy. He was all male and even more handsome than she’d imagined. Sexy brown eyes. Chiseled features. Olive skin. Just a hint of a five-o’clock shadow running along his strong angular jaw.

  He ran a hand through his short black hair and hit her with another grin. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” he said, “but you and I were destined to be together.”

  What?

  That had to be the corniest pick-up line ever.

  The fantasizing was over.

  He could have been stark naked with a willy the size of Texas, and she wouldn’t have been interested in Officer Anthony Petrocelli after that idiotic statement.

  “I’m not trying to pick you up,” he said quickly. “If you’ll let me explain, I think you’ll understand why I had to stop and talk to you.”

  “Not interested,” Kate told him.

  His challenging look called her a liar. “A total stranger walks up to you and tells you the two of you are destined to be together. And you aren’t even the least bit interested in why a guy would be willing to make a complete fool of himself with a statement like that?”

  “Not in the least,” Kate assured him.

  “I’m interested.”

  They both turned to find the smiling face of Alexis Graham, one of Kate’s best friends. Alex also happened to be her temporary roommate at the moment thanks to the current squabble Alex was having with her husband. Dressed for success in her “important executive” power suit, her short dark hair was heavily moussed and slicked back dramatically. She would have looked manly had it not been for her dynamite all-woman figure.

  “Oh, come on, Kate,” she said. “Let the officer tell us his story.” She thrust her hand out. “Alex Graham, best friend.” She looked at Kate. “This is Kate Anderson.”

  “Are you the artist, Kate?” he asked.

  Alex answered for her. “No. Kate’s grandmother owns the gallery hosting this exhibit. Kate is the manager of Anderson Gallery of Fine Arts.”

  “Alex,” Kate broke in. Her supposedly best friend was giving this guy way too much information.

  Alex waved away Kate’s protest and smiled at him.

  He smiled back. “It’s ironic that you should bring up the subject of grandmothers.” He turned his attention back to Kate. “My grandmother is the reason I’m standing here now.”

  Kate still wasn’t impressed.

  She hoped her expression told him so.

  He pointed to his name tag. “Petrocelli. Think big meddlesome Italian family. That would be mine. Think an adorable but eccentric grandmother from the old country. That also would be mine. A grandmother who reads tea leaves for every male member of the family on his sixteenth birthday so she can make a marriage prediction.”

  “Fascinating,” Alex said.

  He laughed. “Ridiculous is what it is. But twenty years ago when my grandmother read my tea leaves, she predicted I wouldn’t marry until I was thirty-six years old. That I would marry a beautiful woman with blonde hair and green eyes. And . . .”

  “Ridiculous is an understatement,” Kate said and Alex shushed her.

  “And,” he repeated, “she said I would meet this woman in Central Park, standing beside the Blessed Virgin Mary.”

  Alex gasped.

  All three of them automatically looked at the painting sitting on the easel directly beside Kate.

  “Unlike the rest of my crazy family,” he said with a wide grin, “I’ve never had a superstitious bone in my body. Tony, I told myself, that’s insane, buddy. A blonde with green eyes? Maybe. But the Virgin Mary hanging out in Central Park? What are the odds of that happening?”

  “Until today,” Alex spoke up. “When you came riding through Central Park and saw Kate standing beside the Blessed Virgin.”

  He grinned again. “You got it. And since I just turned thirty-six a few weeks ago and I’m still not married, I’m not going to lie and say the Twilight Zone music didn’t kick in for a second.”

  “Who could blame you?” Alex said, punching Kate with her elbow, signaling for Kate to agree.

  Kate didn’t comment.

  She didn’t like the way he was staring at her now. Searching her face. As if he were beginning to think maybe his grandmother wasn’t so crazy after all.

  “Wrong blonde,” Kate said flatly. She held up her right hand, knowing the sizeable bling bling would snap him back to reality fast enough. “I’m already engaged. My wedding’s only a few weeks away.”

  Alex nodded, sadly, Kate noticed, confirming everything she’d just said.

  “Well, there you go,” he said and shrugged. “So much for destiny. Right?”

  “And such a pity,” Alex said.

  This time Kate punched Alex.

  He snapped on his helmet. “Well, thank both of you lovely ladies for listening.”

  Alex sighed wistfully.

  He looked directly at Kate. “And thank you, Kate, for finally putting my grandmother’
s prediction to rest.”

  Kate’s nod was cordial. Almost.

  He gave them a friendly salute, turned, and walked back to his horse. After sliding a boot into the stirrup, he pulled himself effortlessly up on the back of his horse, rode off down the path, and never looked back.

  Alex immediately sent Kate a perturbed look. “I can’t believe you. How could you just let him ride off like that without saying a single word?”

  “And I can’t believe you would expect me to do anything else,” Kate said in her own defense. “I’m not interested in some cop with a story about his crazy tea-leaf-

  reading grandmother. Or about the woman’s mystic marriage prediction. I know you don’t like Harold, but I am going to marry him, Alex. You’d better get used to it.”

  Alex snorted. “Oh, who do you think you’re kidding? I saw the way you were ogling the guy before he even stopped to talk to you. Why do you think you didn’t even realize I was here?”

  Kate flushed. “I wasn’t doing any such thing.”

  “You were all but drooling, Kate. There’s no reason to feel guilty about it. Not with your hopeless celibacy situation. But what bothers me, is that I’ve never once seen you look at Harold the way I saw you look at the man who could very well be your Mr. Destiny.”

  Again, Kate blushed at the truth. “I’d be worrying about my own celibacy situation, if I were you.” There. She could give back as good as Alex could send.

  Alex sent her a sympathetic look. “At least I know my situation is only because I’m being too stubborn to go home right now.”

  “Don’t lecture me, Alex.”

  “Don’t mess with destiny, Kate.”

  Alex’s warning made her shiver.

  She’d had her own premonition moments earlier as she’d watched him ride away. Something told Kate she hadn’t seen the last of Officer Anthony Petrocelli.

  THE EDITOR’S DIARY

  Dear Reader,

  From an unexpected belly laugh to the perfect pair of shoes, life is full of happy accidents. But the best one is the romance you never saw coming and the one you can’t live without. Just ask Danny and Annie in our two Warner Forever titles this February.

  New York Times bestselling author Iris Johansen raves Annie Solomon’s previous book is “a nail biter through and through.” Postpone that manicure you’ve been planning—her latest, BLIND CURVE, is even better! Undercover cop Danny Sinofsky never needed anyone or anything. But when he suddenly goes blind in the middle of a bust, Danny couldn’t feel more helpless. Now, refusing to believe his sight is permanently gone, Danny must work with mobility instructor Martha Crowe. Determined to get through Danny’s wall of anger, Martha keeps one secret from him—she was the plain girl in high school who had a crush on him. But when Martha witnesses an attack on his life, they are thrown into a safe house where this man without sight starts to see the real beauty inside this courageous woman. With a relentless assassin trailing them, they must act as one, using Danny’s razor-sharp instincts and Martha’s eyes, if they want to survive.

  The man in your life always says exactly the right thing. He never leaves the toilet seat up. And he always surrenders the remote control without a thought. Sounds like the perfect guy, right? He sure is—because Annie Long from Candy Halliday’s DREAM GUY created him. Meet Joe Video, the most lucrative product the DVD and video game company Annie works at has ever been part of. Fresh out of her most recent disaster of a relationship, Annie couldn’t help but wonder why we can’t create the perfect man? So, with the help of Rico, a devastatingly gorgeous actor hired to play Joe Video in the DVD, Annie sees her creation come to life. The only problem—she has trouble resisting his charms. But is Joe Video really as “perfect” as he seems?Because Matt, her co-creator and an unforgettable romantic mistake, is proving himself to be more perfect than Joe Video ever could be.

  To find out more about Warner Forever, these February titles, and the authors, visit us at www.warnerforever.com.

  With warmest wishes,

  Karen Kosztolnyik, Senior Editor

  P.S. Watch for these exciting new novels next month: Wendy Markham pens the poignant tale of a widow trying to raise two children, a man who’s certain there’s more to life, and the heavenly matchmaker with a plan in HELLO, IT’S ME; and Susan Crandall delivers the enthralling story of a woman who’s unexpectedly left a child under dubious circumstances and a man with a lot at stake who’s determined to unravel her every secret in PROMISES TO KEEP.