Blogger Bundle Volume I: Dear Author Selects Unusual Heroines

by Jo Leigh, Kathleen O'Reilly, Kay David

  “Oh, Joe,” she sighed in his ear, and he was eternally grateful that at that moment he was named Joe and not—

  The doorbell rang, accompanied by loud knocking. “Amanda! Are you all right?”

  Avery.

  Joe lifted his head. “Avery, go away!” He stared at Amanda’s face. Fine bones, so delicate. What was she doing with him?

  Rational thought returned.

  Avery.

  He still couldn’t look away. She looked almost shocked, her blue eyes still off somewhere about two minutes ago.

  He had so needed her to be the sane one. With her body underneath him—how had that happened?—he didn’t want to be the sane one. It was physically painful to move off her. “Amanda.”

  She smiled a little crookedly and sat up. “Joe.”

  “Amanda, we need to fix your shirt. Avery. I’m sorry.”

  The fog in her eyes cleared, her focus getting sharper. “Oh.” She looked down at the bra now hanging uselessly, then looked up at him and grinned. “Tell you what—” he watched as she pulled the scrap of silk through her sleeves like a magician “—looks better without it anyway. Don’t you think?”

  Her fingers recovered nicely and she buttoned up a few strategic buttons, but now the bright blue material covered places that he had just seen, conquered.

  Unable to do much else, he sat.

  Amanda walked to the door, but he ran after he and caught her before she could open it. This was important. There was one question he needed answered.

  “Amanda, why did you kiss me?”

  “Because…” She hesitated for a long moment and looked over her fingernails. Finally she looked up at him, eyes big, wide and full of desire. “Because I wanted to.”

  The doorbell rang and Joe flung it open. Mad at his brother for interrupting, mad at Amanda for starting it and mad at himself for thinking the thoughts that were running in his head. Now he’d really messed up. Now he wanted her.

  He look through the open doorway, not really caring about appearances anymore. Avery stood, elegant in a polo shirt and canvas slacks, looking ready for a day on the links. Next to him, in a tight leather miniskirt, scarlet fingernails, stiletto heels and a wisp of a blouse, stood Monique, looking ready to blow.

  3

  “HELLO AVERY, MONIQUE. I see you two have met.” Joe felt like he had an Aerobus engine lodged in his throat.

  Avery glowered, a ruddy flush coloring his face. “Joe, I’ve been waiting ten minutes.”

  “You’re lucky it was only ten,” Joe replied testily, then shrugged. Now wasn’t the time. “Well, come on in.”

  Monique seemed to be carrying a pot of something that smelled pretty good, and although she tilted her chin in the direction opposite Joe, she followed Avery into the apartment, which seemed to be getting smaller by the minute.

  Amanda curled up on the couch again, looking mighty comfortable. Avery sat next to her, and Joe noticed his eyes drifting toward Amanda’s cleavage every now and then. If not for Monique, Joe would have kicked him off the couch and told him to get his mind out of the gutter. Unfortunately, Joe had gutter thoughts of his own, and was in no position to throw stones.

  He watched as Monique flopped into his favorite chair. With no other alternative, Joe opted to lean casually against the wall.

  There was a long silence, Avery harumphing every now and then, his eyes still darting to Amanda’s shirt. Finally, Joe couldn’t stand it anymore. “Stop it, Avery.”

  The remark seemed to work and Avery took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead.

  Amanda held out a hand to Monique. “Hi, I’m Amanda.” Apparently that was more than Monique could handle.

  “Joseph, you told me you were ill. You sounded so sick on the phone, all the coughing and sniffling. I thought I’d find you here, curled at your toilet, miserable, and dying.” She held up her pot. “I even brought some of Grandma Steinowitz’s chicken soup. It’ll have you off your ass in less than twenty-four hours.”

  “Joe, you cad!” Avery burst out, obviously believing that Monique was not capable of raking Joe over the coals alone.

  Joe turned to Amanda and waited. She just sat quietly, holding her tongue. Smart girl. This was her doing. Well, okay, he shouldn’t have told Monique he was sick, but how do you call a girl two hours before a date and say, “Um, I’ve met the woman of my dreams and I won’t be seeing you for one hundred and ten days, and about eight hours.” Illness seemed so much easier to explain. Of course, he could have told Monique the truth, but what female in their right mind would buy that? Hell, he was a guy, and he wouldn’t have believed it.

  Joe looked at Monique with a fond sadness. She was nice. He had had high hopes for her, and damn it all, the soup smelled really good. But there was Amanda looking sexy as hell, and a little bit miffed, and he really didn’t have a choice. “I’m sorry about this. I should have told you the truth.” Joe glared at Amanda at this point. Understanding his message, she slunk a little lower. “To be honest, I just started going out with Amanda and well, it’s been something of a shocker.” Especially that kiss.

  Monique sniffed.

  Avery was not so shy. “Joe, how could you do such a thing?” He pointed at Amanda. “Are you sure you want to remain in such a shallow relationship? One day, and already he’s unfaithful. How could you tolerate such a philanderer?”

  Amanda sat up straight, her blouse becoming somewhat less revealing. About time. “Technically, he’s not a philanderer.”

  Monique flipped back a long, brown curl. “Maybe not to you, honey, but you just wait. The girls in Terminal C warned me about this one. Said he was as bad as a pilot working international. And you know how they are. He don’t have no money, neither. Mechanics never do.” She pointed a scarlet-tipped finger at Amanda. “You’ll be next, honey. Guys like this—” she clucked her tongue “—worse than rabbits.”

  Avery patted Monique’s hand. “You poor girl. Amanda, if you’re ready to leave this little love nest, I’d be more than happy to escort you home.” His cool blue gaze cut back to Amanda’s cleavage.

  Joe allowed himself one proprietary smirk. Not in your dreams, buddy.

  “I’m not leaving,” Amanda stated, in a dreamy voice that reminded Joe that they still needed to lay out a few ground rules before she did really leave. That one kiss might cause him to lose a few nights sleep, but there were some lines he wasn’t about to cross. He thought of the kiss again and corrected himself. Okay, he wouldn’t cross them more than once.

  “Joseph, have you got any brewskis here?” Monique stood up, and pulled at her skirt.

  “Amanda, you really should…” Avery began, but then pulled his pager from his pocket. “Blast. I have an emergency at the hospital.”

  “An emergency?” Amanda asked. “I thought you did mainly cosmetic work?”

  Avery puffed up a bit. “Mrs. Corrigan. Dear old lady, but likes to invent a crisis so I can come and chat.”

  Monique laid a hand on Avery’s sleeve. “You’re a doctor? So, do you think you could drop me in Astoria on your way? The midnight train is so unpredictable, and those little punkers with the nose rings…” She shuddered.

  Joe watched his brother. Avery in Astoria? Yeah, that’d be the day.

  “Why certainly. You’re in such a fragile emotional condition and you don’t need to be subjecting yourself to the rigors of public transport.”

  Well, well. He glanced over at Amanda. Tonight everybody was somebody new.

  Monique fluttered a hand over her heart. “It shows? You know, you are such a perceptive man. Most of the guys I’ve dated just miss a woman’s little signals. Have you read that Mars Venus book? I just dragged myself out of my well just yesterday.” She glanced over at Joe and sighed. “Now, I think me and my well are going to be reacquainted.”

  Avery took her arm and glared at Joe. “Now look what you’ve done.”

  Monique fluttered her lashes at Avery. “Do you drive a Jag?”

  �
�British?” Avery scoffed. “Bavarian Motor Works,” he said, opening the door for Monique.

  She followed him out, high heels clicking. “What’s that?”

  “BMW.”

  Her appreciative “oh” echoed as they walked down the hall. “Like a Bond car.”

  “One and the same.”

  “Wow. The girls are never going to believe this….”

  Joe heard the tap-tap of Monique’s heels as they started down the stairs. One problem solved. Now to tackle the other one. He shut the apartment door and turned to Amanda. “Now, about that kiss…”

  AWE-INSPIRING was the first word that came to Amanda’s mind. She already felt like he had ruined her for other men, and she was only thirty. Maybe she’d tire of his kisses in time. She studied his mouth, wondering where he’d learned to kiss like such a professional. “What about it?” she asked, not sure where this conversation was headed.

  Joe sat down and rubbed his eyes. For the first time she realized that he looked tired. She resettled herself back on the couch, which was quickly becoming a favorite. Maybe she could give him a massage. Or a hot bath! Amanda loved bubble baths.

  “There’ll be no more kissing.”

  That probably meant the bubble bath was out as well, but Amanda wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. “You’re going to have to kiss me. Avery will think something is wrong if you don’t even touch me.”

  “Avery wasn’t here,” he replied, easily defeating her best argument in defense of kissing.

  “Technically, he was here.”

  Joe glared. “In visual range, Amanda.”

  Amanda adjusted the empty beer bottles on the coffee table. “Semantics, semantics. You will have to kiss me again, or Avery will never be convinced.” She narrowed her eyes as another thought struck. “And why did you tell Monique you were sick? Were you planning on cheating on me?” That thought really hurt. It hurt a lot more than it should. After all, she only wanted an affair.

  He leaned forward in the chair. “No, I wasn’t planning on…” Then he caught himself. “Damn it, Amanda. This is only pretend.” His eyes leveled on her chest. “And button your shirt. Avery’s gone. Go home, Amanda. I’ll call you a taxi. I need sleep.”

  Slowly, she buttoned up her shirt, tucking in her shirttail and smoothing out all the wrinkles. Nearly midnight and already her ballgown was transforming back to the norm. She sighed. Well, this was only Day One. And what a day it was.

  She gathered up her bag and rummaged until she found her keys.

  Joe looked in amazement. “You drove?”

  Amanda nodded.

  “Where’d you park?”

  “Down on Riverside.”

  “Riverside? That’s four blocks away. You shouldn’t be walking by yourself at night.” He stood and stretched, the muscles in his stomach lengthening and flexing. She watched the movement with fevered eyes, wanting to touch. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “Thanks.”

  Neither said much on the walk to the car, and Amanda was happy for the silence. Although his street was anything but—kids were playing basketball, somewhere in the distance a TV was blaring, the sidewalk vibrated from the heavy bass of a nearby low-rider. Two old men were sitting on the stoop, sharing complaints about the neighbors and a bottle in a bag.

  The older man was wearing a white undershirt, with tufts of gray chest hair poking out from its edges. His shorts were black polyester, with matching black socks. He took a long swig, and then drew his hand across his mouth. “I was telling the super about that Blazejewski boy just the other day. Remember back—always in trouble that one, I thought he’d never amount to anything. But you know, I saw him yesterday. You’ll never believe—he’s on the force.”

  “No! Get outta here,” the younger man said. He must have been about seventy and was mostly bald, with a fringe of black circling his head like Friar Tuck.

  The old man lifted his right hand. “I swear it’s the truth. He had a badge and uniform. Even letting the neighborhood kids fool with the squad car’s siren. You should’ve seen it.”

  Friar Tuck winked at Amanda. “Good evening, Joseph Barrington. Aren’t you going to introduce us to your lady-friend?”

  Joe waved them off. “Not tonight, guys.”

  They joined together in a chorus of catcalls. They looked like such nice men, and Amanda thought it might be rather fun to share a stoop at midnight with Joe.

  “Could we sit for awhile?”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “You want to?”

  More than she wanted to go home and be alone. “Sure.” She stuck out her hand to older man. “Amanda Sedgewick.”

  “Vincent D’Antoni,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it.

  Friar Tuck smiled, exposing sparkling white teeth. How did he manage that? “Bernie Zaluski.”

  Amanda nodded politely, still wondering about the teeth. Were they dentures? “Very pleased to meet you.”

  “Charmed, I’m sure.” He held out the bag. “Thirsty?”

  Amanda glanced over at Joe, who settled himself two steps below the men and shrugged. “Thank you.” She sat down next to Joe and took the bag, swallowing one mouthful, and then nearly choked at the chalky liquid. “What is this?”

  “Maalox and Schnapps. At my age, you want to save all the time you can.” Bernie patted his round stomach.

  Joe started to laugh.

  “Bernie, mind your manners. A lady is on the stoop tonight.” Vincent sighed, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. “Looks like it’s going to be a hot summer.”

  Bernie handed him the bag. “One of the worst. Remember ’83? Oy. And the brownouts. I went to bed every night knowing that I’d died and gone to hell.”

  “If I was married to Edith, I’d think I’d died and gone to hell every night, too.” Vincent scratched his chest hair tufts, sighing with satisfaction. “You know, my first child was conceived during those brownouts. God bless her.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  Vincent nodded. “The very one.” He still had a smile on his face when he turned to Joe. “How’s La Guardia Treating you? Where’s my Lincoln?”

  Joe reached into his wallet and handed over a five-dollar bill. “The actuator. I can’t believe you were right. I thought it was the coupler.”

  “It does my heart good to know an old man can still take advantage of you young whipper-snappers every now and again.” Vincent winked at Amanda. “I worked at La Guardia for forty years. Finally retired when Reagan was elected. Joe tell you about his lessons?”

  Joe hunched his shoulders over. “Not now, Vincent.”

  “You haven’t told Ms. Sedgewick about your career ambitions?”

  Bernie cuffed Vincent on the shoulder. “Vincent. Sshh.”

  Amanda’s ears perked up. “What career aspirations?”

  “It’s nothing. Vincent,” Joe glared meaningfully.

  Amanda wasn’t going to let Vincent off that easy, though. “Please tell me.”

  Vincent pursed his lips. “Nope, my loyalty is to Joseph. If he says it’s his personal business, who am I to argue?”

  Amanda pulled out her wallet. “Vincent, I’d like you to meet Mr. Lincoln.” She held out a five.

  “Amanda. Put that away.” Joe tried to pull her purse away, but she held tight.

  Vincent was a tough customer. “Please, miss, listen to him and put that away. I wouldn’t rat on our Joseph for anything less than Mr. Jackson.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Amanda looked at Joe for a minute, but he was just watching her. This was a test. She put the money back into her wallet. “Sorry, Vincent.”

  But then Joe surprised her and told her anyway. “I’m working to get my pilot’s license.”

  She looked at him, amazed. Her hand landed on his knee. “That’s great.”

  “Don’t say anything, okay. It’s slow going. The hours don’t come cheap and it’ll be a few years yet before I can fly solo.”

  He wanted to fly. She shouldn’t
have been surprised. She had vague memories of Joe as a kid, a toy airplane in his hand.

  But he hasn’t a kid anymore. Somehow he had grown up and no one had noticed.

  Joe stood, tall and capable. Avery had always been the smart Barrington boy, hadn’t he? She wasn’t so sure now.

  Vincent stared up at the looming buildings and incandescent streetlights, looking as if he was contemplating the universe and then he gave a heartfelt sigh. “And what do you do, Amanda?”

  “Amanda’s a lawyer,” Joe answered.

  Bernie nudged Vincent. “You don’t say? You hear that? She’s a lawyer.”

  Vincent’s reply was a noncommittal grunt.

  Bernie shook the bag in his hand, pointing it at Amanda. “I’ve been telling Vincent he should find a good lawyer. Like one of them on TV.”

  Amanda turned to Vincent, intrigued. “For what?”

  “I’ve been having trouble with my lungs and now nobody’s ever said anything, but back when I was on the line, they used this engine cleaner that—well, it was strong stuff, see? They didn’t use it very long, but a couple of other guys who did some of the same work at the same time I was there, well, we’re all in the same boat.”

  Bernie sniffed. “They probably knew exactly what they was doing to their employees, but just didn’t care. Corporate America. But that’s what the legal system is for, to keep them greedy ganifs in line.”

  Vincent looked at Joe. “What do you think?”

  Joe shook his head. “You want a lawyer? You’re going to need one of the best for a thirty-year-old case.”

  Amanda opened her mouth, ready to defend her legal skills.

  But there was no need. Joe took care of that. “That’s Amanda. Nobody better.” His smile was real, but a little sad.

  For a moment she just stared. He didn’t know what a gift he’d just given her. She should say thank-you, or kiss him, or something, but he had a “hands-off” look. Disappointed, she handed a business card to Vincent. “Call me first thing in the morning. I’ll do what I can.”