by Debra Kayn
Her love of family ties and laughter makes her a natural to write heartwarming contemporary stories to the delight of her readers. Oh, let’s cut to the chase. She loves to write about REAL MEN and the WOMEN who love them.
When Debra was nineteen years old, a man kissed her without introducing himself. When they finally came up for air, the first words out of his mouth were, “Will you have my babies?” Considering Debra's weakness for a sexy, badass man who is strong enough to survive her attitude, she said yes. A quick wedding at the House of Amour and four babies later, she’s living her own unbelievable romance book.
Surprisingly
Playing for Hearts, Book 5
Debra Kayn
Avon, Massachusetts
Copyright © 2014 by Debra Kayn.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.
www.crimsonromance.com
ISBN 10: 1-4405-6655-0
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6655-4
eISBN 10: 1-4405-6656-9
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6656-1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123RF/Andrey Tsidvintsev
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter One
Crista Johnson gritted her teeth and tried to concentrate on what Janelle, her next door neighbor, had been droning on about for the last fifteen minutes. Paisleys were coming back? Summer colors were darker and brighter? Janelle’s endless talk about her modeling career and fashion statements bored her. Crista only required breathable material that hugged her body and moved with her. She wasn’t dressing to please others; she had to compete with other athletes.
She still hadn’t figured out what her neighbor saw in her and kept her coming over all the time. Crista wore yoga pants or bicycle shorts most days, and her swimwear consisted of a crossback one piece designed for speed and comfort. Obviously, none of that mattered to the high fashion-conscious Janelle.
“What do you think?” Janelle set down her ice water on the patio table between them and instantly studied her pink manicured false fingernails.
Crista looked down at her own blunt cut bare nails. She had no idea what the woman was going on about because all she could think of were a million ways to get Janelle to go back to her apartment. “I’m not sure.”
“Exactly. I told Devon, my manager, it was impossible to lose two pounds by Friday. Not even if I took the pills to speed up my metabolism. I’ll have to wear the wrap during the whole group bikini shot … like you would if you had to wear a swimsuit in public.” Janelle leaned her six-foot tall body back in the chair and crossed her long, slender legs. “I’ll be blacklisted from ever working with this magazine ad again, and the other girls will talk in the dressing room about the lard ass … me.”
Crista glared. One more insult and she’d slap the bitch. That would end Janelle’s habit of always invading her apartment.
The doorbell rang. Crista jumped out of her chair, relieved to have an excuse to walk away. “Excuse me. That’s my friend Bruce. He’s in town, and I promised him he could stay with me.”
“Mm … details, girlfriend.” Janelle sat up straighter.
Crista paused. “What are you talking about?”
“You know—his occupation, his rating, and his reputation with women. I want to know everything.” Janelle fluffed her hair and shifted her breasts in her bra. “Don’t leave anything out.”
Crista stood at the sliding door wanting to escape, but she knew Janelle well enough to know she wasn’t going anywhere until Crista provided all the juicy details. The supermodel hunted men for sport.
“I guess he’s around six feet four inches tall, rugged, um, blond—” The doorbell rang again, and she cleared her throat. “Two hundred and twenty pounds maybe, I’m not sure.”
Janelle sighed and waved her hand in front of her. “Never mind. You lost me at rugged.”
“I’ll be right back.” Crista disappeared inside the house and skipped to the door, glad to avoid telling Janelle her best friend was a world-class bass fisherman. For some reason that attracted all the women, and she’d never get Janelle to go home.
She hadn’t seen Bruce for four months, since they’d gone to watch their mutual friend, Juan Santiago, win his third gold in the Winter Olympics for downhill skiing. Afterward, Bruce had flown to Venezuela for a fishing tournament, and she’d come back home to California to train for the Ironman in October.
She opened the door, smiling. “You’re here.”
“Hey.” Bruce scooped her drink out of her hand and took a sip. “That’s what I call service, sweetheart.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Greedy.”
“I’ll share.” He handed it back after draining half the glass. “Are you sure it’s okay if I crash here?”
“You don’t even have to ask. You’re my best friend. Mi casa and all that.” She motioned him inside and shut the door behind him. “I even made us reservations for tonight. Does seafood sound good?”
“Down at that little restaurant on Fisher’s Bay?” He threw his bag beside the couch.
“Yep, that’s the place. I remembered you enjoyed it last time you were in town,” she said. “They have the best shrimp out of all the restaurants in town.”
The sliding door opened. She caught Bruce straighten and take in her neighbor. Men. They were all the same. See a supermodel, and everything and everybody else ceased to exist.
“Janelle, this is my friend Bruce Coldwell.” She turned to Bruce. “My neighbor, Janelle Langdon.”
Bruce glided in front of her, and lifted Janelle’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”
Crista watched the exchange and wrinkled her nose over Bruce patting his stomach as if Janelle would faint at the sight of his six pack.
“Uh huh.” Janelle dismissed him and looked at Crista. “I’m leaving. You’ll come Friday, right?”
Friday? Friday? What did Janelle say she wanted me to do?
She shrugged. “I don’t know … ”
“Please come.” Janelle towered over her, bouncing on her toes. “Everyone who is anyone will be there. It’s the function of the season, and it’s not all supermodels. The press and photographers will be there too, and the timing is perfect for you. You want opportunities for that … race thing you do, so you have to come.”
The motion of Janelle’s boobs dancing in the halter top made Crista motion sick. She grabbed her friend’s arms, stopping her from moving. “Yes, I’ll be there. I’ll call you Friday to get more information.” Janelle clasped her hands to her perfect chest. “Goody. Except, I’ll call you. I’m supposed to have my nails redone that day, and I don’t want to answer the cell if I’m sitting in the chair at the salon. Then late
r, I’ll help you pick out something sexy to wear.”
“That’s okay. I’m sure I can figure out something to wear on my own.” She glanced at Bruce and found him grinning.
Kill her now. Bruce would never let her hear the end of her girly adventure. She’d rather gain attention for being a trainer, an athlete, competing in long distance running or swimming, not for showing up to flaunt her body and get her picture taken on the off chance she hit the middle pages of a magazine somewhere.
“No way.” Janelle air kissed her cheeks. “Friends help each other, and I want you to look beautiful. We need to get rid of the athletic look and start making you look like a real woman. A single, feminine woman who is open and available to men.”
“I’m not in the dating market,” Crista said.
Janelle waved her hand, dismissing Crista’s statement. “That’s why you need to have a fling. There will be plenty of married men at the party, alone and desperate, and looking for someone like you.”
“Absolutely not.” Crista clenched her teeth. Janelle’s habit of only going after men who were taken disgusted her. “I think it’s time for you to go, so I can catch up with my friend.”
Janelle bounced past without saying goodbye to either her or Bruce. When the door shut, Crista flopped down in the chair and groaned. She needed to nip her friendship with Janelle to casual status before she ended up saying something rude and causing a catfight.
Bruce sat down on the couch. “Who was that gorgeous friend of yours?”
“My bubble-headed next door neighbor slash supermodel slash pain in the ass,” she muttered. “I can’t stand her, so if you have an idea on how I can distance myself from someone who likes to Velcro themselves to my back, let me know.”
“Set us up.” Bruce inhaled deeply. “I want to get to know her better.”
“You’re kidding. Dating her would be suicide.” She stuck her lower lip out and blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “She eats men like you for breakfast and then runs into the bathroom to make herself throw up so she doesn’t gain weight. It wouldn’t be pretty.”
“Who cares?” He propped his feet on the coffee table. “I’m not planning on a long term relationship. It’s all about the sex for me nowadays.”
“Ugh.” Crista held up her arms and waved her hands side to side. “Spare me the details. What you do on your own time is your business.”
“So, you’ll set us up?”
She sighed heavily on a groan. “Honestly, Bruce. She’s … complicated. Since I’ve known her, she has a thing for men who are already attached to other women. She enjoys the chase. Married, engaged, serious relationship, it doesn’t matter. She wants to one-up any woman and prove she’s all that with a topping of sprinkles.”
“Have you seen her?” Bruce chuckled. “She’s fucking gorgeous. Her body is killer. I can ignore what comes out of her mouth or how she acts around other women by keeping her mouth busy. She can’t talk if she’s giving me a bl—”
“You won’t even catch her attention.” She shook her head. “I’ll tell you in your language, so you can understand what I’m saying. The bitch is a piranha. She’ll only go for you if you’re attached to a girlfriend.”
“I fish for a living.” He grinned, giving her a creepy I-know-something-you-don’t-know look. “I know my bait.”
She glared. “What are you talking about?”
“You and me. If she thinks I’m your boyfriend who showed up in town and will be staying with you, she’ll be easier to hook and tag,” he said, puffing out his chest. “It’ll be another trophy catch I can sit back and brag about to the guys in my old age. Once I pull her in, appreciate the catch, I’ll let her go back in the water for the other men in the world to enjoy.”
“Speak in layman terms.” Crista blinked at him, lost in Brucespeak.
“The more she watches me getting friendly with you, the more tempted she’ll be to steal me away.” He twined his fingers together and clasped them behind his head. “I don’t spend all my time on the water. I know women. Some females would even call me an expert. Other men only wish they knew what I know.”
She snorted. “I’m trying to de-friend myself from her. With my luck, you two would fall madly in love, and I’d be stuck with you both for a lifetime. You, I can handle. Her … hell no. She’s a deal breaker in our relationship.”
“I’ll take her off your hands.” He raised his brows. “Then you won’t have to break her heart when you lock the door on her. I’ll be getting busy in her apartment. Besides, I have two weeks here. If I get together with her, I won’t have to sleep on your couch the whole time.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, lying to him. If she thought anymore about Janelle and Bruce getting together, she’d have her own puking problem.
Just imagining what could happen if those two hooked up made her sick to her stomach. She did not want to hear about Bruce’s sex life, at all. Out of her and Bruce’s mutual friends, he was the one man who’d never tried to date her. He never even flirted when he drank too much. Nothing was going to come between them. He was her best friend.
“Oh, hey.” He leaned over and pulled his duffle bag closer. “I got you something in Venezuela.”
She leaned forward, trying to peer inside his bag. “What?”
“This.” He passed her a sack. “Open it.”
She grinned, glancing at him when she opened the bag. “You really should’ve.”
“I knew you’d bug me if I didn’t bring you something back. I forget one time to buy you a surprise while I’m traveling, and I hear about it every time I call you.”
She pulled out a small wicker basket, the size of an ice cream dish. Inside the rim, paintings of purple and white orchids lined the bowl. She studied it closer, and noticed the inside of the flowers had red painted dots.
“It’s beautiful.” She smiled, warmed from the gift. “Thank you. I think I’ll put it on my dresser and use it to hold my earrings.”
“Uh.” He stifled his laughter. “Good idea.”
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“The Venezuelan women set it on their nightstand. It’s a—” he barked out a laugh, “good luck totem for fertility.”
His snorts and chuckles filled her small apartment. She rolled her eyes. Honestly, why were they still friends?
Each time he visited, she looked forward to the surprise gift he brought her, a sign that he appreciated their friendship as much as she did. And every single time, he turned into a twelve-year-old boy who’d rather snap her bra than show his true feelings regarding their friendship by buying her a T-shirt or souvenir like she always begged him to.
“I’ll put it in the bathroom next to the phallus-shaped coconut you brought me back from the Bahamas last year.” She rolled her eyes, because once he started to outdo her in the gift giving department, he went all out to give her the funniest, most useless gift
She walked out of the room and continued the conversation. “Talk about an item that causes a lot of questions from friends. The coconut gets more attention than I do. I’m going to get you next time. That’s two gifts in a row you’ve blown. I’m upping the competition the next time I travel. You’ll get the ugliest and most useless gift I can find. You’re going down.”
This meant war. He’d burned her so many times with his choice of gifts, she’d lost count. She’d have to step up her game. The backscratcher she brought home from Hawaii for him to use when he was alone and had no one to scratch his itch didn’t compare to an edible penis or fertility bowl.
“So, are you going to be my girlfriend?” Bruce called from the other room.
She walked back. “Whatever. If it’ll get you out of my hair for two weeks after putting up with that gift, I’m willing to do anything.”
“Great.” He snatched her cell phone off the table and tossed it to her. “You and Janelle have plans to go out on Friday. All you have to do is call and tell her you want to bring your … lover. Use tha
t exact word, too. Lover.”
The way he over exaggerated the pronunciation would’ve made anyone laugh. She snorted, shaking her head to keep from falling into his trap. During his absence, Bruce had sunk to a new level. He must be desperate.
“You’re sick. You know that, don’t you?” She dialed Janelle’s number, curling her lip. “I’m sure she’s going to know I’m lying through my teeth.”
Her soon-to-be unfriend picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“It’s me … Crista.” She turned around because Bruce was staring at her. “I’m calling about the party on Friday. I wasn’t thinking when you were here, but I can’t leave Bruce alone when he’s expecting to spend every spare moment with me. So, I was wondering if I could bring my, um, lover to the party, too?”
“You have a lover?”
Janelle didn’t have to sound shocked. Crista’s shoulders sagged. She had three men she’d slept with in the past. Not boyfriends, more like one night stands with men she knew having sex with would be safe. God, she wasn’t a prude.
She cleared her throat. “Yes. You met him. Bruce.”
“Oh,” Janelle said. Crista wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a higher lift in her voice.
She waited. In the phone, she could hear Janelle tapping her ninja-sized nails. “What do you think? Will it be okay?”
“I guess.”
“Fabulous.” She pretended to sound excited. “I’ll see you Friday. Bye.”
She disconnected the call and pretended to gag. No way was this going to work. Janelle wasn’t stupid.
Bruce held his palms up. “Well? Do we have a date?”
“Yeah.” She glared in his direction. “We’ve got a date for Friday night.”
“I told you she’d go for it. Can I predict women or what?” Bruce stretched back out and crossed his ankles. “And because you did this favor for me, I’ll pay for dinner tonight.”
Bruce seemed really excited about the Janelle prospect. She tilted back her head and closed her eyes, praying for intervention. The last thing she wanted to do was go to the party. Not even pretending to date her best friend would provide enough entertainment to make up for being stuck making nice to a room full of models.