Table of Contents
Title Page
Praise for Lynda J. Coker
Stormee Waters
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
She came back to reality
and placed the box on the foyer table, picked up her purse and stepped through the door. The evening light cast a deep shadow across the man at her side, giving the illusion that he became one with the darkness, and something more she couldn’t define. When he escorted her to a sleek, black sports car of indefinable origin, something more took on solid proportions in her imagination. Every tingling cell in her body warned her against the power of his striking personality. That feeling barely registered before another followed. Dirk Savage didn’t play by anyone’s rules but his own. She nibbled her lower lip and stole a glance at him as he helped her to fasten the seat belt.
“Don’t look so dismayed. I’m not going to ravish you, at least, not before we’ve had our dinner.”
Still leaning over her, with nothing but a thought between their lips, his low chuckle reached to the very bottom of her toes. Embarrassed by his scrutiny, she turned her head.
Praise for Lynda J. Coker
THE OCEAN BETWEEN was the Winner of the Heart of Denver Romance Writers 2006 Molly Award for Short Contemporary Fiction.
*
“This is one lady who knows how to write a Love story with a capital L! Hot as the desert wind, sweet as the date cakes served with mint tea, this is one romance that will grab you by the heartstrings. I can almost guarantee that the ending of [THE OCEAN BETWEEN] will make you teary-eyed but in a good way, of course. I loved it! Once I started the book, I couldn’t put it down until the end.”
~Kaye at Pudgy Penguin Perusals
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“[THE OCEAN BETWEEN] is the first novel I have read from Lynda Coker, but I will look forward to reading more of her work in the future. Absolutely wonderful!”
~Wendy Hines at Minding Spot
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“PAYBACK IN WAYBACK is a story that really pulls at your heart strings… This was a very enjoyable, well written story and I look forward to reading more of Lynda Coker’s works.”
~Yvonne Mason’s Weblog
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“Lynda J. Coker’s PAYBACK IN WAYBACK is a welcome addition to the Wayback Texas series. Consider placing it at the top of your must-read list. It is a fascinating story likely to linger in your heart long after the final page.”
~Edie at Night Owl Review (Top Pick)
Stormee Waters
by
Lynda J. Coker
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Stormee Waters
COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Lynda J. Coker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Sweetheart Rose Edition, 2015
Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-713-9
Published in the United States of America
Chapter One
Alpha Males (Desirable or Despicable?)
Stormee gawked at the current document title on her laptop screen. What cliff have I jumped off of this time? Why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut? This interview assignment would be someone else’s headache if she’d just taken a moment to ask what the project entailed before volunteering.
She swiveled her chair and gazed out the tiny window in her office cubicle. The placement of her working space, next to the exterior wall, gave her a coveted view of the world outside. The multicolored array of Zinnias skirting the walkway gave reason for hope. If they could bloom and thrive despite Houston’s triple-digit temperature, surely she could be as tenacious.
The pile of unopened boxes stacked under the window aroused more frustration accompanied by a long sigh. Since starting her new job as a staff writer for the Texas-based magazine, Between The Lines, she’d had no time to breathe, much less, organize her reference books and files.
Nothing less than a confirmed idiot added to an already overlong list of pending tasks. Wasn’t putting up with her sixteen-year-old brother’s hostility because she’d moved them from Chicago to Houston enough of a challenge? And, there was Nana. Something needed to be done with her eighty-three-year-old grandmother before the nursing home booted her out the door. And what about the extra ten pounds her bathroom scale insisted lurked somewhere on her body?
She sucked in a lung full of air, holding it as long as possible before releasing it at a slow, measured rate. The air whistling through her teeth helped set a calmer pace for her racing heartbeat.
If she kept her focus, she could turn this annoying blunder into a career-enhancing opportunity. Besides, hadn’t she landed her dream job, the position of Investigative-Interviewer for the magazine, Between the Lines? With those credentials, she had the right to explore the fringes of an elite world of money, power, and prestige previously out of her reach.
Pushing her arms upward, she reached toward the ceiling and stretched three times to relieve the tension tightening her shoulders. What a shame her media ID card hadn’t come with a syringe full of good judgment and bravery. With a groan, she forced her attention back to the project sheet on her computer.
Alpha Males (Desirable or Despicable?)
Due to her tendency to react rather than reason, her job now hinged on her ability to find one of these infamous alpha males for the three-part series, Make My Man Texas-Sized.
She clicked the mouse, opened her research file, and skimmed through several pages of information. Apparently, this personality type ranked at the top of the chart for women who read happy-ever-after fiction. More surprising was the high number of real women in today’s society who viewed this brand of man as the ultimate male fantasy.
She listened to the constant flow of chatter outside her office and wondered if any of her new co-workers fell into that category. The smell of cinnamon rolls teased her nose. Did the female office workers dream about meeting a guy like this while enjoying their early morning coffee break?
Stormee shook her head and leaned back in her chair. The whole concept was pathetic. What woman in her right mind considered an overbearing know-it-all attractive? But then, trying to be creative and productive while working in a closet-sized cubicle could make any woman escape into moments of daydreaming. Maybe that was why they padded the adjoining walls? The humorous thought reaffirmed her own preference.
“Absolutely no superheroes, alpha males, or marauding conquerors, just give me the beta variety who takes out the trash,” she mumbled before reading the next paragraph.
Women can’t resist the magnetism and sexual attraction of an alpha male persona. Their first reaction is often acute dislike. The second phase is inevitable, the fixation of taming the beast. How far will he allow her to go? How much control will he give her? Can she claim his heart?
The answers to these questions and others soon become an obsessive quest.
Why do alpha males make fanciful heroes? Because women see them as adventurers and powerful champions. They emerge as men who are macho, mysterious, possessing a sensitive inner core that promises to melt completely for just one woman. This accounts for the invisible web of attraction that ensnares a woman before she’s marginally aware. If captured, she will find the duality of her world challenging, since the innate nature of such a man can both raise a woman to ecstasy or drown her in despair.
“Way to go, Stormee,” she muttered in disgust. She was now the dim-witted volunteer who needed to find one of these rogues and do a full-spread article, enough material for three issues. Where did she find someone like him? One candidate did hover in her mind, but her intuition warned he should be labeled hazardous and left undisturbed, or better yet, between the pages of a book.
“Miss Waters?”
Stormee looked up to see Mrs. Stanton standing in the open doorway of her office. Her boss’s trendy, contemporary style belied her mature age. But her interrogating gaze is what allowed her to project an intensity that demanded recognition.
“How is our Texas-sized article coming? You’ve been working on it for over two weeks, and I haven’t seen anything come across my desk. You do realize the first deadline is five days away?” Her rigid posture left no room for nonsensical excuses.
“I’m running somewhat of a tight schedule, however, I’ll finish the first interview in plenty of time to get the piece to you for review.” Despite being a little stunned, Stormee replaced her woe-is-me frown with a confident smile and straightened her slumped position.
Mrs. Stanton lowered her head and peered over the rim of her miniscule reading glasses. “A close cut, don’t you think?”
Stormee stood and rested one hand on the desk. “Yes, a little. Our first candidate is anything but cooperative. He doesn’t relish personal publicity. Though, I have managed to set up a tentative interview for this afternoon.” Her boss wasn’t going to be placated with less than the truth. She let her thighs rest against the desk and resisted the urge to place her other hand on its surface for support.
“Who is the man?” Mrs. Stanton stepped a foot inside Stormee’s office.
“His name is Dirk Savage. I read a brief news clip about his trip to Washington. He received a government commendation for the rescue of an oil executive being held by pirates using skills he learned as a former Navy Seal. I figured he was just the type of male who’d make this article sizzle for our female readers.” Stormee moved both hands behind her back and entwined her fingers, uncomfortable with the fact that when reading the article, she’d sizzled a little herself. A fragmented thought she hoped didn’t show in her expression.
Mrs. Stanton’s pupils dilated as she took two more steps forward. “Dirk Savage! How did you get that man to give you the time of day?”
Stormee’s stomach clenched. Is my choice of subjects a huge mistake? She pursed her lip and squeezed her fingers tighter. “I promised to include information on his favorite charity. Do you know him?”
“I’ve met him on occasion. But to answer your question, I would say there are only a select few that could claim to know him on any type of personal level. Illusive and private are two words that have always personified his character. He usually avoids interviews and personal media appearances. I want you to take full advantage of this opportunity, Miss Waters. Try talking to people included in his inner-circle or one of his lady friends.”
Stormee watched Mrs. Stanton’s brow furrow in concentrated thought. Sad to say, she didn’t know her boss well enough to determine if her reaction was a good or bad sign. Relaxing a little, she removed her supporting hand from the desk and replied, “The research shows him to be the bachelor of choice by Houston’s social set. Reportedly, he escorts a large assortment of long-legged, blonde-haired women. I’ve already contacted a couple but neither agreed to answer my questions about their association with Mr. Savage.”
Mrs. Stanton advanced all the way to the front of Stormee’s desk, giving her chin a contemplative stroke. “If you can deliver this, it will be a coup for both you and the magazine. But a word of caution…”
Her boss’s piercing gaze gave Stormee reason to squirm. And the covert tenor of her voice as she issued the last phrase planted a seed of fear.
“Be careful, Miss Waters. I don’t want to sound condescending…” She paused, staring at Stormee with an apologetic expression. “You’re probably not experienced in dealing with a man of Dirk Savage’s caliber. Keep the interview on a professional level at all times. By nature, men of his know-how and popularity can sway a young woman’s principles. Stay on a business footing and never act, or react, on an emotional level. Need I say more?”
Stormee resisted the urge to fidget with the hem of her blouse and gave an affirmative nod. Now was not the time to give in to a nervous tic that had plagued her since puberty. Though clarification would be nice, getting a clearer explanation wasn’t worth revealing her deplorable lack of sophistication.
Chapter Two
Three hours later, Stormee steered her new car into a parking slot in front of a four-storied, steel-and-glass building. After locking the door, she paused to admire the car’s celery-green color and stroked the curving fender. The small but shiny vehicle symbolized luxury on a grand scale after having driven her Nana’s old clunker for the last five years. Despite her sensitive conscience, she’d turned the old car over to Big Bubba’s Salvage Yard. Not a humane ending, but the two hundred and fifty dollar check received in return soothed the worst twinges of conscience.
No breeze stirred to relieve the oppressive heat as she walked along the cobblestone path past a large slate sign. If the building’s owner intended the office complex to blend with the setting, he’d failed. Its sober simplicity commanded attention. Equivalent to a concrete cube amongst a bed of roses, the structure dominated the environment.
If nothing else, the architecture gave Stormee a means of evaluating the owner’s personality—that is, until she entered his domain. The unexpected interior shattered her assumptions. Every inch of the reception foyer flourished with flowering fauna, accompanied by a variety of trees, some reaching three stories toward the glass ceiling. Her earlier perspective of the man she was to interview, a rogue mercenary, didn’t fit the botanical oasis of her surroundings. She never expected to find a mini-rainforest inside a concrete block. Either the designer was bi-polar, or the building’s owner intended on bewildering those who entered his territory.
A few feet inside, a footbridge spanned a stream babbling its way across the expansive lobby. She followed the yellow-tiled path over the bridge and found the receptionist on the other side, discreetly curtained off from the main atrium by oversized banana plants. The statuesque woman with shoulder-length blonde hair greeted her with a warm smile.
“You must be Stormee Waters, welcome to Strike Force.”
“Thank you. I have an appointment with Mr. Savage. Is he expecting me?”
“Yes, he is.”
Stormee envied the woman’s elegance and poise. Her countenance suggested she was someone very important, yet her graciousness set others at ease. “If you’ll please follow me, I’ll take you to him.”
Stormee followed the woman’s unhurried pace through a hall designed to resemble the inside of a grotto. Water trickled down the jagged rocky walls to pool under the transparent flooring. Underwater lights displayed a variety of colorful fish swimming under her feet. Will Mr. Savage’s office resemble Tarzan’s tree house? She covered her lips with two fingers just in time to stifle an impolite giggle.
The receptionist paused before a set of solid steel doors marked “private” and pushed a button on the intercom panel beside the entrance.
Stormee expected to hear a welcoming voice, instead, the heavy door panels retracted into the wall, leaving a big, silent opening.
“Mr. Savage will see you now.”
The woman’s graceful hand gesture reminded Stormee of a fairy extending a magical wand. After the receptionist departed, Stormee hesitated before the opening, goose bumps covering her arms. Shoving an unwanted case of the jitters to the back of her mind, she stepped through the gap into an outside patio with more fauna and fountains. The ceiling fans and misters kept the day’s 103 degree outdoor temperature unbelievably comfortable.
As the steel doors closed behind her with the finality of a prison lockup, she flinched. Kidnapping and detainment were not normal procedures in an interview, so why did all her senses scream entrapment? She chalked up the silly thought to her over-active imagination and scanned the area for Mr. Savage.
The man she’d come to see stood behind a bar in the far right corner. The fact that he’d watched her gawk like a school girl at his surroundings did nothing for her confidence.
“Come in, Miss Waters. I was pouring myself an iced tea. Would you care for a glass?” He gestured her forward and extended the offer with an open palm.
In close quarters, he fulfilled the promise of his name. An untamed, predatory glint in his whiskey-brown eyes gave her the usual head-to-toe she’d come to expect from males over the age of fourteen.
His smile showed a degree of amusement as he stepped from behind the bar. With an overlong stride, he ate up the distance between them and stopped within a foot of where she stood.
“Yes, I’d love an iced tea. Thank You.” Not sure what to do next, she shoved her hand forward for the obligatory handshake.
The smallness of her hand wasn’t something she often considered, but when it completely disappeared in his grasp, Stormee’s level of intimidation increased. Equally important, he prolonged the contact, sending tiny tremors spreading from her fingers up her arm. The force with which she removed her hand from his deepened the small wrinkles around his eyes as his expression changed from warm to probing.
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