Linda S. North - The Dreamer, Her Angel and the Stars
Linda S. North
Yellow Rose Books (2011)
Valoración: ***
*
Product Description
The year is 2098. Thirty-eight year old Kiernan O’Shay’s dream is to build spaceships capable of light-speed. This dream is within her grasp if she can gain full control of the freighter spacecraft company her late grandmother built. She only has to adhere to the antiquated stipulation in her grandmother’s will that she marry and produce an heir by her fortieth birthday.
Twenty-five year old Ariel Thorsen is content with her life. She has a job as a physics professor at a local college, a loving family, and a beautiful girlfriend. She is unaware Kiernan O’Shay has chosen her to fill the role of wife, and mother of Kiernan’s heir.
Kiernan offers Ariel and her family monetary wealth if Ariel will agree to marry her. Ariel refuses until a tragic event forces her to accept Kiernan’s offer. What starts out as a business arrangement turns into more for Kiernan. However, Ariel resents Kiernan, believing she was behind the tragic event that forced her into this marriage.
Can Kiernan win Ariel’s love?
The Dreamer, Her Angel and the Stars
Copyright © 2011 by Linda North
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Regal Crest Books
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The Dreamer, Her Angel and the Stars
by
Linda North
Copyright © 2011 by Linda North
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-61929-035-8 (eBook)
eBook Conversion April 2012
First Printing 2011
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Cover design by Donna Pawlowski
Published by:
Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC
3520 Avenue H
Port Arthur, Texas 77627
Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz
Published in the United States of America
Acknowledgments
To Susan Thompson, Stacey Watts, and Ang, who were there at the beginning. A special thanks to Lara Zielinsky for her assistance. To Brenda Adcock for her eagle eyes, and to Lori L. Lake who has the patience of Job.
Dedication
For Danny Gail, who is my port in the storm.
The Dreamer, Her Angel and the Stars
by
Linda North
Chapter One
THE FORWARD MOMENTUM of the Harley’s wheels kept the six-hundred-pound motorcycle from tipping over as it leaned at a forty-degree angle into the twisting curve. Ariel Thorsen straightened the Harley out of the bend and into the flat stretch of highway before squeezing the clutch and booting it up to fourth gear.
A glimpse in the rearview mirror showed company rapidly closing in behind her. She hoped the driver wouldn’t follow right on her tail or attempt to pass on the narrow, twisting highway.
The next section of road extended for two miles, allowing her to kick the Harley into fifth gear. The increased speed brought some relief from the sweltering humidity of the early July afternoon. Usually, it was cooler along this high ridge east of Chattanooga. But erratic weather patterns, resulting from the greenhouse effect, were still in evidence some fifty years after a worldwide ban on all fossil fuels and other pollutants.
She had smoothly maneuvered the next curve and entered the straightway when suddenly the motorcycle’s back tire deflated making it hard to control.
She froze for a nanosecond, but then managed to ease up on the throttle and keep the bike from skidding out of control. The Harley’s electric turbo engine whined as it decelerated, allowing her to maneuver toward the edge of the highway where the guardrail hugged the mountain’s rock face. She hoped the vehicle behind her wasn’t traveling too fast around the curve. Even with the required electronic sensors it posed the threat of hitting her.
Tires squealed, and she tensed her body, squeezing shut her eyes as an eternity passed in a second, leaving only silence and the pounding of her heart. She opened her eyes, released a prolonged sigh of relief, and detected the sound of a door opening behind her.
Approaching footsteps stopped a couple of yards away, and a baritone voice asked, “Sir, do you need any help?”
After pushing down the kickstand, she slid off the Harley’s seat and stood. She removed her black, full-faced helmet and pivoted to face a middle-aged man wearing a charcoal suit with a gray bow tie. From his appearance and the black limousine parked against the rail behind him, she surmised he was a chauffeur.
He gaped at her with surprise before doing a slow, appreciative sweep of her figure, then saying in a friendly manner, “Miss, do you need any help?”
“Could you please help me move my motorcycle out of the way?”
He made a surveying sweep of the area, his gaze stopping on the wide, grassy shoulder across the highway, and said, “Across the road is a good place. I’ll push it over for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll contact the Harley dealership to come out and pick it up.”
Seeing no approaching traffic, she crossed the highway. The man followed pushing her Harley. He maneuvered the bike up on the grassy shoulder and engaged the kickstand down.
She placed her helmet on the bike’s seat, knelt, and inspected the back tire, not seeing a puncture, but it was flat. One drawback to owning a vintage fifty-three-year-old Harley was that unlike modern tires, which didn’t go flat, these could, and only Harley-Davidson dealers stocked them.
She stood and unzipped her black Teflahide jacket to allow in cooler air. From her waist bag, she withdrew her IMP—an Intel Micro Processor—and unfolded it, expanding it to twice its one-anda-half-inch size to display a vid screen allowing two-way communication. She powered it on, held it a foot from her face, and said, “Contact Chattanooga Harley-Davidson’s service department.” The IMP made the requested connection.
While she was arranging to have the Harley picked up, the back window of the limousine slid down. A white-haired elderly man motioned the driver over.
As she was concluding her call, the driver returned. “Miss, I’m Danny Mitchell, Mr. O’Shay’s chauffeur, and he’d like to know if you wan
t a lift to Stellardyne’s front gate where security can arrange for someone to pick you up.”
The O’Shay name was one she recognized. The probability was high her benefactor was a relative of Kiernan O’Shay, the well-known driving force behind Stellardyne. “I’m Ariel Thorsen,” she said. “I was on my way to Stellardyne with some important documents requiring my mother’s signature that have to be posted before the close of business today. My mother works in the engineering department.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind taking you all the way to headquarters.”
“Let me have a minute to get the documents, and I’ll be ready.”
Mr. Mitchell crossed the highway to speak to his employer. Ariel secured her helmet on the bike with the helmet lock and removed her siblings’ school applications from her saddlebag. She realized now that she was very lucky she’d avoided a wipeout on the bike. She had been traveling over the maximum posted speed limit. She wouldn’t have had to hurry if the post office droid hadn’t delivered the applications to her neighbor, who’d returned from vacation earlier in the day. Ariel was grateful the neighbor brought the mail over as soon as she noticed the wrong address on the envelope.
Mr. Mitchell motioned her over to the limousine. Ariel crossed the highway, feeling both relieved and thankful for the ride.
THEODORE O’SHAY WATCHED with interest as the statuesque and curvaceous young woman crossed the highway toward the limo. Danny opened the door, and she slid into the seat across from Theodore. She graced him with a smile while the seatbelt automatically fastened around her. He held out his hand for a shake and introduced himself.
“I’m Ariel Thorsen.” She took his hand in a firm but gentle grip.
Theodore placed his hand on top of the silver-knobbed cane resting between his knees. “What a mighty fine motorcycle you have. An antique, by the build of it.”
“Yes, a 2045 Harley-Davidson Deluxe Glide. I won it in a Tennessee State Lottery drawing two years ago.”
“What is it they say about a Harley? You’re not living until you ride one?”
“Life begins when you get one.”
“Ah, that’s it.” He paused. “Danny informs me your mother is an employee of Stellardyne and you want her to execute some documents.”
“Yes, her name is Joanna Thorsen. She’s a data processing supervisor in the engineering department.”
“I’m the head of the legal department and will send a notary to her office as soon as we arrive at headquarters.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
“I’m glad to be of service.” He leaned back in his seat and studied her discreetly for a moment. “Ariel. What an unusual and lovely name. An elemental spirit from Shakespeare’s Tempest, I believe?”
“Yes, but my mother named me after Ariel the mermaid in her favorite childhood movie, The Little Mermaid, an old Walt Disney classic.”
While Theodore preferred masculine attractiveness he wasn’t immune to admiring beauty for its own sake. She wasn’t in the same category as his niece, Kiernan, who, with her dark auburn hair, trim but shapely mouth, and oval face, was what he considered along the classical lines.
Still, her generous lips, expressive light blue eyes, slightly up-tilted nose, and high cheekbones fit together to fashion a very attractive face. Her smooth, light complexion was almost flawless except for the tiny dark mole above the corner of her upper lip. In an earlier age the fashionable of all classes—both male and female— considered such a mark stylish, applying artificial ones to their faces. Light blonde hair fell a good six inches past her shoulders, lending her an ethereal aspect as if she indeed were a spirit, or an angel. He’d wager heads turned in admiration when she strolled by.
“I don’t recollect seeing it. My favorite old classic movie, or movies, was the old Star Wars saga. When I was a boy, I would imagine I was Luke Skywalker.” Remembering that time, he let out a melancholic sigh. “It’s a pity they don’t produce movies like that anymore.”
“They’re my favorite movies, too. When I was growing up all the kids in my neighborhood would watch them on the EM and after the movie, we would pretend we were the various characters.” The EM was the Entertainment Module, a combination of a three-dimensional live-feed video media projector, surround sound stereo, and video game center, usually round, about the size of a baseball.
Pursing his lips and tapping a finger on the top of his cane, he studied her for a second. “Let me guess—you were Princess Leia.”
“I was Han Solo.”
“Han Solo was a roguish fellow, I believe. You’re not a rogue are you?” Theodore narrowed his eyes in an attempt to appear serious, but he couldn’t keep one corner of his mouth from lifting up.
Amusement reflected in her eyes and voice. “I’ve never been accused of being a rogue. It was because Han Solo owned the Millennium Falcon.”
Presenting his sweetest grandfatherly face, Theodore asked, “Do you mind me asking, my dear, are you in school, employed—?” Theodore always played on his age, which was ninety-one, and his polite and genteel way of conversing to obtain information. He found most people thought the elderly innocuous and were willing to be more open.
“Right now I’m on summer break from my job as a physics professor at Missionary Ridge Junior College.”
“You have a doctorate in physics?”
“Yes, I do. I graduated almost a year ago from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and started my professorship at Missionary Ridge soon after.” Ariel’s tone held a note of pride when mentioning her alma mater.
This information impressed Theodore. She possessed not only beauty, but also brains, which in his opinion were an attractive combination. “MIT is the number one school in the world for physics.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Tell me more about yourself. Do you live in Chattanooga?”
“In East Ridge. We still live in the house I grew up in.”
“I take we to mean you and your mother, and—?”
“Yes, my mother and my brother and sister, Seth and Leigh. They’re twins and celebrated their tenth birthday a few weeks ago.”
“Your mother is a single parent?”
“My father died in a commuter helio-jet crash when I was seventeen, and I’ve stayed home to help in caring for my brother and sister.”
“You helped your mother, as well as managed to attend college and obtain a PhD?”
“I was able to take my courses and participate in classes through the Internet Direct Link from my home.”
“Still, there’s a lot to be said for attending a university in the flesh, so to speak.” Theodore winked. “Fraternity parties, football games, you know, the important curriculum a university offers.”
“The university required all doctoral candidates attend the actual campus for laboratory classes. So, I spent two semesters on campus to complete my degree and to obtain my certification as a professor.” Grinning devilishly, she added, “Don’t worry. I did manage to squeeze in enough time for the important things, such as parties and football games.”
“That’s the old college spirit. Though, I wager your mother missed having you at home to help. It’s rare to find a young adult willing to live at home and assist one’s parents.”
“The twins were seven when I attended campus, and my mother was able to afford an after school daycare program for them.”
“But you’re still living at home with your family. Your mother must be a good cook,” Theodore teased.
“I enjoy living at home. And yes, my mother is an excellent cook. Cooking is one of her hobbies.”
“I’ll wager you’re a good cook as well. No Pop-hots on your menu,” he said, referring to the pre-cooked meals that heated within a matter of five to ten seconds after popping the box or lid. Theodore detested them and employed a chef to prepare his meals.
“I can whip up a few meals from scratch that can pass the taste test.”
“I hope you have a beau who apprecia
tes your cooking.”
Her eyes reflected amusement, as did her voice. “I’m not sure whether the term beau applies, but I do have a girlfriend.”
Intelligent, beautiful, and a lesbian, he thought, then asked, “Are there wedding bells in your future?”
“No, we’ve only been dating for a couple of months.”
“I see.” Tapping one finger on the cane knob, he fell silent to consider the information he’d gathered.
The limo slowed as they swung onto the road to Stellardyne. The guard on duty at the security post performed the required retina scan on Mr. Mitchell and Theodore. Ariel was introduced as a guest and her name and time of arrival were duly noted in the visitors log.
Theodore said, “We have arrived, my dear. Please allow me to escort you into the building and arrange for you to see your mother.”
“Thank you for helping me. I hope I didn’t inconvenience you.”
“Oh no, not at all. I’m happy I could be of service.”
Danny helped Theodore out of the seat before he gallantly offered his hand to Ariel, who accepted his assistance.
Theodore escorted her into the building and instructed the security guard on duty to provide Ariel a pass and to contact her mother.
He said, “It was a pleasure meeting you, my dear. May I provide transportation back to your home after you conclude your business with your mother?”
“That’s very kind of you, but I’ll borrow my mother’s car and return for her when she gets off work.”
“Perhaps we will meet again sometime.”
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