Valentine Pets & Kisses: Fourteen All-New, Sweet Valentine Romances

by Rachelle Ayala

  “You have the measurements?” She asked her assistant.

  “Yes, and it’s not good,” Carmen said. “They won’t be able to fit into the samples.”

  “I know. Take these back to my parents’ house, and meet me tomorrow morning at the fabric shop. Also, call Heidi and Katya to meet me bright and early at my place with their sewing machines.”

  “Sure, boss,” Carmen said. “And about that firefighter?”

  “What about him?” Jenna narrowed her eyes, wondering what Carmen had heard.

  “If you don’t want to go out with him, can I call him?”

  “Actually, I do want him.”

  “No, you don’t.” Quint’s voice came from the shadow, as he stepped out from behind a floor length mirror. “Act’s over, and I’ll take you out for a nightcap. I’ve got the perfect copy for the show. It was awesome. Congratulations.”

  Jenna didn’t want to turn him down in front of Carmen, so she said, “I have to redesign three couture pieces for celebrities. Their measurements weren’t quite what we expected.”

  “I’ll be sure not to let that little nugget of information out,” Quint said in a silky, smooth voice. He massaged her shoulders. “You’re tired. Stiff, tense. Let me take care of you tonight.”

  “Bye.” Carmen wisely retreated with the bags of clothing.

  Once Jenna figured she was out of earshot, she moved away from Quint. The massage that used to feel so relaxing was creepy instead.

  “What’s wrong?” Quint creased his forehead. “You want a good write up or not?”

  “Write whatever you want,” Jenna said. “Everyone knows this show was a success. I’m too tired right now, and I have a long day of sewing ahead of me.”

  “Sure, have it your way.” Quint folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll write you up good. Don’t worry. What are friends for?”

  “Right. Friends. Thanks.” Jenna stifled a yawn and turned toward the dressing room door.

  “Good luck with your garbage man,” Quint shouted right before she slammed the door.

  # # #

  Jenna woke the next morning with a raging headache. She checked her phone, but Larry hadn’t answered any of her text messages or voicemail.

  Last night, she’d kept up a steady stream of texting, because she wanted him to know she hadn’t spent the night with anyone. She tried again, then called his number.

  It cut to voicemail immediately, meaning his phone was turned off.

  “Larry? It’s me. I’m going to be busy all day stitching up specials for a bunch of celebrities. Are we still on tomorrow evening for the Valentine’s Dinner and Dance? I’m sorry about whatever you overheard, but nothing happened. Please call me back.”

  The rest of the day was non-stop black coffee, jitters, pricked fingers, and stitching. She moved the sewing machines onto the long dining room table at her parents’ home, and the three women set up shop for the day.

  By evening, Jenna was grimy, her fingers were pin-pricked and her eyes were twitchy, but she and her assistants had finished the gowns.

  She bagged up the gowns and borrowed her mother’s Toyota to make the deliveries. Larry still had not returned her calls. How long was he going to stay mad at her for talking to her fashion colleagues?

  She rushed from hotel to hotel, delivering and fitting the dresses. She finished her last client a little after nine and drove to Larry’s. Maybe something had happened to him. She hated to call the firehouse and ask if her brother had seen him, but a gnawing feeling, plus the fact she hadn’t eaten all day, had her stomach grinding in on itself.

  Jenna found a parking spot and ran up the stairs to Larry’s apartment. She buzzed the doorbell and knocked frantically on the door, but no one answered.

  “Larry, I’m not going away. You hear that? I’m not giving up on you,” she shouted to the door.

  “Woof, woooohh, rroof, roooh,” Harley barked and howled, thumping the door on the other side.

  “Ah ha! You’re in there, and you’re too chicken to open the door,” Jenna said. “I know you have to take Harley out to potty.”

  She heard the sound of Harley shaking his head and flapping his ears. His little tail must be wagging like mad as he pawed the door, whining and snuffling.

  Good. At least Little Harley still remembered her. She settled down to bang the door until he could no longer ignore him. “Chicken. Stop hiding. Bawk, bawk, bawk.”

  “Wooahhhrooh! Woof! Woof! Wooahhorooo!” Harley accompanied her.

  Larry opened the door. His brows were drawn, mouth pressed together and his eyes narrowed fiercely. “Get in. I didn’t know you were so childish.”

  “Who’s being a kid? If you want to give me the cold shoulder, at least tell me what I did wrong.” Jenna stomped her way into his apartment and bent over to pet Harley. “You left me at the gallery all alone and I had to hitch a ride home with one of the donors.”

  Larry bunched his arms across his chest and glowered at her. “Fine. Explain.”

  “Did you listen to my messages or read my texts?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t know what you thought you overheard, but I didn’t go home with either of those men.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I was only being friendly because they’re writing articles about the show. I’m not seeing anyone but you.”

  “So you say.” Larry all but growled.

  “What’s the matter with you? All angry? What did I do wrong?” Jenna stood her ground, puffing her chest out. She wasn’t leaving until this grouchy bear explained himself. “Are you going to get jealous every time I speak to someone else? Because if that’s the way you are, this isn’t going to work out. I’m in the fashion industry and while a lot of the men are gay, not all of them are.”

  “You’re right, Jenna. This isn’t working. I’m in the trash industry, and when I see trash, I take it out.”

  “Are you asking me to leave?” She shoved herself against him. “Are you calling me trash?”

  He grabbed her and held her back. “No. But I want you to leave and never come back. You don’t need me and I don’t need you.”

  His fingertips burned where he gripped her, but he wasn’t letting her come closer. Jenna’s heart lurched into her gut.

  “You’re not coming with me tomorrow for Valentine’s Day?” she managed to stammer, hardly able to believe Larry’s hostility.

  “No.” He remained closed and unyielding, but let go of her. He opened the door.

  “What happened to being mine and saying ‘yes’ to me as long as I wanted? You promised me.” Jenna patted her chest, afraid her heart would burst out.

  “I’m sorry. I really am.” He bent down to grab Little Harley’s collar so he wouldn’t follow her out. “Beauty truly is only skin deep. Bye.”

  “No, I’m not leaving until you see something important.” Jenna grabbed his buttoned shirt and ripped it all the way down to his waist.

  Larry let go of Harley and scrabbled for the shreds of his shirt.

  Jenna shut the apartment door so Harley wouldn’t go out, and ripped the rest of Larry’s shirt, including the sleeves, through his hands.

  He stood shock still, bare to the waist in front of her—the melted and healed skin was mottled and streaked with scar tissue.

  She pushed him against the wall and ran her hands over each scar. “You are beautiful, Larry. So beautiful it kills me. You ran into a burning building, your skin melting off you. This. This, and this.” She outlined the pits and striations. “Are badges of courage. You are a brave man, and you are a good man. Your beauty goes from your skin all the way to your soul.”

  His Adam’s apple bulged and he tightened his jaws. He felt hard and clenched, like he wanted to explode. “You don’t really believe that. You and Connor rigged the bachelor auction. You thought no one would bid on me.”

  “No! I wanted you for myself.”

  “Liar. I know about Irina. That’s why she was so confused when you
stepped forward. How are you going to pay? Or was it all an act? Poor Larry. He’s so ugly, no one would bid. He’ll never get a date on his own. We must help him.”

  “No, Larry.” Jenna gripped onto his shoulders. “I bid because I wanted to. I’ll pay. I’ll sell my grandmother’s diamond earrings. I’ll pay every penny because you’re worth it.”

  “Stop your motivational speech.” He gripped her hands and removed them for his body. “Don’t you think I’ve been through enough therapy? I lived in the burn unit for over a year. I’ve heard it all. I don’t need your pity.”

  She twisted her hands from his grip and pounded his chest with both fists. “You don’t need your own pity. What are you doing with your life? Stop hiding behind your scars. Stop acting as if you’re everyone’s number one charity. I’m going to leave because you want me to. But you will not forget me, because I love you enough to tell you this. Claim your life, Larry. Go. Claim it and live it.”

  She couldn’t help pressing her lips on his neck and nuzzling him. “As for Irina, it’s true I set her up. But that was before I fell in love with you. I screwed up and I’m sorry. I was jealous about Irina even before I asked her to bid. If you love me, you’d forgive me.”

  “You should go.” Larry’s voice was harsh. “I don’t love you. I never did. I only used you.”

  “Used me?” Jenna jumped back and stared into his dark, foreboding face.

  “Yes.” He clenched his teeth. “I wanted to show you off to Connor and all my firefighting buddies. Now that you bid ten thousand, I’m the winner. Your show was a success. You can go ahead and suck up to the photographer and the fashion rag editor. Get your glowing reviews, your celebrities, and fast track career. And I can frame all the pictures of us together and brag that I was the one who got you started with my ugly mug next to your angelic face.”

  “You can’t possibly believe what you just said.” Jenna waited for the punchline. Waited for a telltale smirk, a wiggle of the corner of his lip, or a quiver of his eyelid.

  “I don’t love you,” Larry repeated. “I used you. Goodbye.”

  Chapter 18

  Larry shut the door after Jenna walked out. Thankfully, she hadn’t made a fuss or broken down into tears. She’d simply nodded and walked away—out of his life—gone.

  She was free now to play her fashion games without his interference. With her talent and drive, she could become the most sought after designer in the world, do runway shows in Paris, London, and New York. Own a fashion house, hobnob with princes and princesses—be a celebrity and marry a billionaire.

  Of course knowing Jenna was successful and free didn’t keep his own heart from disintegrating into a pool of blood. She hadn’t shed a single tear for him, which only proved she didn’t love him. She wanted to bolster his ego and give him confidence. For that, he should be thankful.

  But she didn’t love him. She left and never looked back, even when he’d rushed to the window to watch her walk away. Larry picked up Harley and turned on the TV.

  “At least I have you, buddy. She didn’t even try to ask for you back. Shows how little she cared.” He let the puppy lick his face as he rubbed the dog’s loose skin.

  It wasn’t going to be easy getting over Jenna. But it was the right thing to do. She was probably over it already. Well, duh, it had all been an act anyway. She got what she wanted.

  But whenever Larry closed his eyes, all he heard was her voice. You will never forget me. I love you enough to tell you this. Claim your life, Larry. Go. Claim it and live it.

  Easy for her to say when she had everything going for her. Young, gorgeous, blond, and talented. Her star was flying high, and no one would miss the fact that he wasn’t with her on Valentine’s Day. She probably had another man on standby anyway.

  He woke up his tablet and re-read the article written by her douchebag friend, Quint.

  Designer Jenna Hart is all attitude these days. Ever since her ex-boyfriend, Evan Edwards, allegedly stole her designs and ran off with the prestigious Esmé, she’s been slumming around with a mysterious man of superhero proportions. Evan may have his pretty boy face, but he’s no match for the beast who snatched five children from the flames of death.

  There’s a certain allure of the dark and the ugly—the Phantom of the Opera, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the Beast—in contrast to innocence and pure beauty. Jenna Hart’s genius is in catching this contrast without seeming to exploit it. She playacted masterfully with the scarred firefighter, kissing him fervently, even stirring up rivalries in the firehouse when she bid ten thousand for a date with this monster—eclipsing her brother, Chief Connor Hart’s price of five thousand.

  What was Jenna Hart of Moonique Designs trying to prove? She’s already being hailed as the talent to outshine all others. The ‘shoot the moon’ risks she took on the runway nails bombshell with avant-garde. But she also understands the value of the viral—using social media to propel her name and that of her brand to the stratosphere.

  The iconic image of beauty’s face against the scarred jaws of the beast will not be soon forgotten.

  Larry stared at the picture, credited to Gustave, of him and Jenna, locked in an embrace, their eyes full of love and hope. It had caught his bad side, scarred and cratered like the surface of the moon.

  She said I should be proud of these scars. Wear them like badges. At least I’m not hiding behind a mask like the Phantom of the Opera.

  Larry ran to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Really, truly looked, studied, and examined his skin. Badges of courage. The orange peeled scars, the wrinkles, the ridges, the discoloration and the hairless spots. Badges of courage.

  Yet he’d failed that little boy. The one trapped behind the bars. He’d burned his hands trying to rip the bars from the wall. He’d come through a wall of flames and risked Connor’s life by going back. Where was his courage now?

  He hated the smell of smoke and refused to light up the grill. He could never go back into a burning building—not after smelling his own skin burn and tasting the flames licking over his body. That was the real reason he’d quit.

  Not the knee. That was repairable. Many men got surgery to fix it and went back to their duty. He’d also kept in shape, so he’d pass the physical tests, too.

  No, he was a big chicken deep inside. Jenna was right when she squawked at him, daring him to open the door.

  Little Harley whined and rubbed his nose against Larry’s leg. It was getting late, and he needed to go out for his last walk of the night.

  “You need to go or do you miss her, too?” Larry pulled on a shirt and attached Harley’s leash. The scent of Jenna’s perfume still lingered at the doorway. Larry took a deep breath and slapped his chest. “Time to man up and forget about her.”

  Harley only whined and stared at him with those sad, expressive eyes.

  “I’m not her project, and neither were you. But the good thing is, we have each other.”

  Man and dog stumbled their way down the stairs and into the dark, foggy night.

  # # #

  Tears washed Jenna’s face as she dashed into her parents’ home and ran for her bedroom. Both of her sisters were downstairs with her parents, Connor, and baby brother, Dale, who must have come home for the weekend from Berkeley.

  Most Saturday evenings were reserved for family dinner, except if someone had a date. Cait was always around, since her husband stayed most weekends at the firehouse, and Melisa’s boyfriend was an emergency room doctor and oftentimes had to work the weekends.

  But Connor and Dale? They were usually out and about. Why would they be home on a Saturday night, the evening before Valentine’s Day?

  “Jenna, is that you?” her mother called. “Come down and eat dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Jenna leaned against her bedroom door, quelling the hunger pangs.

  “How were the deliveries? Did they like their dresses?” Mother stopped outside her door.

  “They’re fine.”
r />   “Your sisters are here, come join us for coffee and some red velvet cake.”

  “Thanks, but I need to get some rest. I’ve had a long day.”

  Jenna waited by the door for her mother’s footsteps to descend the stairs before wrapping herself in a robe and grabbing a towel. She looked up and down the hall. The coast was clear, and she made it into the bathroom without meeting anyone.

  She was about to turn on the shower when she heard voices from the kitchen carry up the pipe. They were talking about her and Larry.

  Jenna put the lid down on the toilet and sat on it. She could hear them as clearly as if she were in the room. Every kid in the family knew about this quirk of the pipes. Many times, when she’d been in trouble, she’d snuck up here and sat quietly on the toilet while her parents discussed the punishment they’d mete out on her.

  Of course, nowadays, she was her own worst punishment.

  Connor’s voice boomed through the pipes. “She used him. Plain and simple. She got rave reviews. Everyone’s talking about how smart she was to contrast her beauty with Larry and that basset hound.”

  “Jenna’s not like that.” The fainter voice of her younger younger sister, Melisa, could barely be heard. “I’m sure she only wanted to give Larry’s confidence a boost.”

  “She hurt him badly,” Cait said. “Brian was at the station and he saw Larry come in, all distraught. He says Larry was shaking. He was so crazy, he ran off with that basset hound Jenna gave you.”

  “It’s okay,” Connor said. “That dog isn’t suited for a firehouse. He drags his own ears on the ground and trips over them.”

  “I always knew this would come to no good,” Cait declared. “I just can’t believe Jenna would use Larry to advance her career.”

  “We told her not to hurt him,” Mother said. “I’m sure she’s not even aware of it. She’s so beautiful, she has no idea what it’s like to be ordinary or plain.”

  Jenna leaned over her knees and sobbed. Her own family thought so poorly of her just because she was considered beautiful. Cait believed she had life easy because of her looks, and little Melisa settled for being kind and sweet, but shied away from dating and social events rather than to be overshadowed by her.