"Not to be an..." He smiled. "Very funny."
"But I'm serious. You know I can more than survive without the interest on that money." I moved closer and touched his cheek again. "I'm looking for other expressions of interest from you, to be honest."
He took hold of my shoulder and drew me even closer. "Oh, yeah? Like what?"
I gave an elaborate shrug of the shoulder he wasn't touching. "Playing video games with me. Obviously. What else is there?"
He chuckled, then sobered. "Are you sure about this? I need you to respect me. I need to respect myself. If I say yes, will you think I'm weak?"
"I have offered, repeatedly, to pay it back. You have refused, repeatedly, to take the easy way out and let me. I think, as a wise woman recently said, you're a stubborn bastard, but I don't remotely think you're weak. I definitely respect you, and you should too." I slid my arms around his neck. "I think you're amazing. Please, John, please say yes."
He swallowed hard, then I saw him relax into it. "Yes. Thank you. I love you."
"I love you too," I breathed, then he bent his head and kissed me, his strong arms wrapping around my back and his love and happiness beautifully clear in his kiss. It felt so right, and I savored every second.
When we eventually broke apart, he said, "She's rich and gorgeous and a great kisser. How did I get so lucky?"
I laughed. "You must have been a saint in a past life."
He chuckled and pulled me tighter against him. "That's you, Saint Angela. And I must confess I'm thinking not-at-all-saintly thoughts at the moment."
"Really?" I said, trying to sound shocked, then squirmed with desire as he kissed my neck.
"Want me to show you?"
"Definitely." I turned my head further to give him better access, then froze. "Um..."
"Problem?"
"Maybe?"
He pulled away and said, "Oh. Hey, Zack."
"Hi," he said, as if he saw his dad kissing me every day. With any luck, he would from now on. He grinned, looking extra-cute in his pajamas. "Having fun?"
"Shut it, monster," John said with a smile. "And yes, actually."
"Good."
"Is it?"
They both turned to me, and I went on with, "You're okay with this, Zack?"
His grin widened. "Yeah. After all-- yeah, let's say I'm okay with it."
I glanced at John, who looked as confused as I felt, then said, "After all what?"
Zack blushed. "Nothing." Then he laughed. "You never figured it out, and it doesn't matter now."
This didn't exactly clear things up. "Explain," John said.
Zack shook his head, grinning. "Let's just say Annie Cranston is pleased. Anyhow, wanna play video games with me? Clearly you guys need a chaperone. I'll go get dressed and be back in five minutes."
He danced off looking thrilled with himself, and I turned to John. "Annie Cranston didn't exist, at least not according to the skating rink guy."
"True," he said, light dawning in his eyes, "but because of Annie I got to play hockey again, and you came and watched me almost every week and hung out with me before and after too. I liked that a lot, getting to spend time with you like that."
"I liked it too," I said, then realized where he was going. "Zack wrote that letter? He set the whole thing up to get us together?"
He nodded, grinning. "I think so. The kid is devious. But I love him."
"I love him too."
He hugged me hard, and said into my ear, "I know. That's part of why I fell for you."
I squeezed him back, then he drew away enough to glance at his watch. "He's probably been gone thirty seconds."
I widened my eyes. "We're wasting valuable time."
In answer, he swept me in and kissed me again, but he broke the kiss after only a few glorious moments and said, his voice rough, "I wanted to kiss you so much in Portugal. Kiss you and... other things."
I shivered at the heat and hunger in his eyes. "Yeah?"
"Big time. Think five grand would get us back there again? I could keep the other half for future use."
"Five would do it, I think," I said, then realized what he meant. "But I gave you that money for you."
"To make my life better, you said. And nothing's better than being with you. So would you let me treat you to the trip this time? No 'Kerr pays for you and you pay for me' action?"
I loved that he'd relaxed enough to be able to joke about that. "On one condition," I said, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck.
"Name it. First class tickets? Fancy suite? Wine out the wazoo?"
"Nope," I said, smiling. "Cheaper than all that. You have to kiss me every day while we're there. At least once. No, three times. At least."
He tried to frown but his smile got in the way. "Yeah, I think I can manage that. And it's not just 'cheaper', you know. Kissing you is free. Amazing, but free."
I pulled him close. "You know what I've learned over the last six months?"
He cupped my face in both hands. "Tell me."
I smiled at the warmth and love in his eyes and at the feel of his hands against my skin and at the knowledge we were about to share another amazing kiss. "So are most of the best things in life."
He grinned at me. "You are the cheesiest multi-millionaire ever."
I laughed. "Doesn't mean I'm wrong."
"True," he said, lowering his lips to mine. "I think you're right, actually."
And as he kissed me, I knew I was.
Acknowledgments
The cover photo of Toronto's skyline and the CN Tower (atop which I did the same Edgewalk that Angela and John did!) was taken by http://www.istockphoto.com/rabbit75_ist and turned into a cover by me.
I am beyond lucky to have such supportive people around me. Thanks so much to:
* Holly MacLeod, for reading multiple drafts of every book and never once being anything but helpful and encouraging
* Alexa Mandes for permitting me to use her name for my Alexa
* Jaime Johnson, Beth MacLeod, Tanya Sweeney, and Jess Wilkinson, for reading at least one draft of at least one of these books and providing great feedback
* my husband, without whom nothing I do would be possible.
Thank you for reading.
I so appreciate your reading this collection of my "Toronto Series" books and I hope you enjoyed it. Book reviews are crucial, both for me as an author and for your fellow readers, so if you can spare a moment to leave a review that would be wonderful.
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Read on to see a preview of my next book. Thanks again, and happy reading!
Also by Heather Wardell
Toronto Collection
Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo (free download!)
Go Small or Go Home
Planning to Live
Stir Until Thoroughly Confused
A Life That Fits
Live Out Loud
Blank Slate Kate
Finding My Happy Pace
All at Sea
Good to Myself
Pink is a Four-Letter Word
Everybody's Got a Story
Fifty Million Reasons
Plan Overboard (turn the page for an excerpt!)
Toronto Collection Volume One (contains "Go Small or Go Home", "Planning to Live", "Stir Until Thoroughly Confused", and "A Life That Fits" in one!)
Toronto Collection Volume Two (contains "Live Out Loud", "Blank Slate Kate", "Finding My Happy Pace", and "All at Sea" in one!)
Toronto Collection Volume Three (contains "Good to Myself", "Pink is a Four-Letter Word", "Everybody's Got a Story", and "Fifty Million Reasons" in one!)
Stand-Alone Books
Seven Exes Are Eight Too Many
Plan Overboard – Book Description
The much-anticipated sequel to ALL AT SEA brings back Melissa and the trio of brothers that vied for her heart, and a brand new heroine to root for in Corinne Kostopoulos.
All Corinne has ever wanted was the role of clarinetist for the Toronto Philharmonic Orchestra. The clarinet, and working to master it, is all she has left of her father, who abandoned the family when she was a little girl. But after failing to clinch an open spot in a heated audition, her life-plan soon goes overboard. Not only does she break up with her longtime boyfriend, Clay, she also makes a decision that will alter her destiny in ways she never imagined...
After a medical procedure and a couple of months of changing everything in her life, a pregnant Corinne meets Melissa and her gorgeous flirt of a brother-in-law, Austin, on a cruise. The heat of the Caribbean sun soon combines with a mutual attraction to create a sizzling connection neither Corinne nor Austin can deny. But when the truth comes out about Corinne's condition, will lifelong playboy Austin man up? Or will Corinne's hope for a future beyond a shipboard romance prove yet another PLAN OVERBOARD?
Prologue
I am standing on the stage, glad my long skirt hides my shaking knees, awaiting the announcement. I can barely breathe. For the last two decades I have put everything I have into reaching this moment, and if I don't succeed I'll...
As I realize that I have no idea what I'll do, or what I'll have in my life, if I don't win, the committee leader gets to her feet. "As you know, ladies and gentlemen," she says, looking around at her fellow orchestra members and the friends and family of the other finalists, "it's extremely rare for us to need a new clarinetist. In fact, this is the first time in the thirty-four years I've been principal clarinetist with the Toronto Philharmonic Orchestra that we have undergone this search. Before we announce the name of our newest member, I'd like to ask you to pause in memory of Doug Crosby, whose record of sixty years of orchestra service might never be equaled."
I bow my head and try to look suitably serious, but all I feel is annoyance that she's dragging this out even further and gratitude to the man for passing away peacefully in his sleep and finally opening a clarinet vacancy in the orchestra. I know this is inappropriate but I can't help it. He had sixty years in the position I've been desperate to reach for twenty years, and now it's my turn.
It has to be. The woman to my right, Tammy, told me tearfully backstage that she'd messed up on her sight reading exercises so was sure she wouldn't win, and the guy on my left, Barry, tore through the slow movement of the Weber concerto like his parking meter was about to expire. I didn't do any of that. I did it right. I worked so hard, I studied so many other people's performances, I made plans and followed them and missed out on so many other things in my life so I'd be perfect. And I was. I was note-perfect. I've been dreaming of playing clarinet in this particular orchestra since the day my dad took me to see them twenty years ago. I have to win. I just have to.
Nora Drucker raises her head and continues to speak. "Doug was a great friend and I miss him tremendously. I know he'd be pleased, though, at who the committee has chosen. This person plays with amazing heart and elegance and will be a wonderful addition to the Toronto Philharmonic family. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present our new associate clarinetist..."
My heart is going faster than Barry in the Weber and my lungs feel like I've played the entire Nutcracker Suite without taking a single breath. If I pass out, will they forget about me and go on to—
"Barry Cavanaugh!"
If she'd smacked me in the face with a tuba it would have hurt less. Fighting to hide my agony, I make myself smile and turn to Barry and shake his hand without digging my nails into it. "Congratulations," I say, trying to sound pleased for him but knowing I haven't come close to managing it. He's stolen my dream. I was perfect and he wasn't and somehow he won anyhow. And he's younger than me so waiting for him to die isn't much of a plan.
"Thanks," he says, already looking past me. "And good luck in whatever you do next."
I can't think of anything to say to this, and he's not waiting for a reply anyhow. He accepts his congratulations from Tammy, who looks as miserable as I feel, then goes to shake hands with Nora and her committee members and bow to the orchestra's conductor.
Nobody's paying attention to me any more, so I stumble off-stage and gather my stuff and head for the door while biting the raw place on the inside of my lower lip where the clarinet presses my teeth against my flesh so I can't scream.
That should have been me shaking hands and bowing. Back in grade four I saw the Philharmonic play "Peter and the Wolf" and fell hopelessly in love with the clarinet, and since then I've done nothing but work toward the moment when I would finally take my place in the orchestra.
And now that moment has arrived, but for Barry. Not for me.
Out on the street in the cool September air, I stand holding my clarinet case in one hand and the bag containing my audition-planning book in the other. I hate both of them right now. I've given them everything, scheduled my life full of practices and lessons and studying other people's performances, and for what? I am thirty years old. I have nothing in my life that doesn't revolve around clarinet. I have given the last two decades of my life to this one dream, and now I have nothing but calluses on my fingers and a bleeding lip.
I have nothing.
What the hell am I going to do now?
Want more? Click to buy Plan Overboard.
Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13) Page 105
