by Shirley Jump
She looked away. “Jeremy, I…I can’t.”
“Don’t you understand?” He lifted her chin until her gaze met his. “I’m playing for keeps, Rebecca. I love you and I want to marry you. I wanted to marry you the minute I saw you trying to fix that flat on your own. You’re smart and strong and everything I could ever want in a woman. But I don’t want someone who is still afraid of the unknown.” He stepped back, releasing the contact, and thought it had to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. “Enjoy the sunset.”
Then he headed down the bridge and back to his car. Wishing he was Houdini and could magically undo the chains on Rebecca’s heart.
1 pound spaghetti, cooked
3/4 32-ounce jar spaghetti sauce or equivalent of fresh sauce
1 10-ounce container Italian herb flavored cream cheese (or regular cream cheese and 2 teaspoons Italian seasoning)
8 ounces fresh baby spinach
Parmesan cheese
You don’t have time to be dicing and prepping, because you’ve got a big decision to make and not a lot of time to make it. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Cook the spaghetti, drain it, and return it to the pot. Add the spaghetti sauce and cream cheese, stir, then add in spinach and stir until it's wilted.
Pour the spaghetti mixture into a greased pie plate. Top with grated Parmesan cheese. Bake for 30 minutes. Easy and done, and leaves you plenty of time to go after what you really want.
CHAPTER 9
She ran.
But this time, instead of running from her problems, she was chasing after them. It had taken her about twenty seconds to realize that there was no one else in the world she wanted to talk with about Smoots or Houdini or bike tires. No one but Jeremy.
“Jeremy! Wait!”
He turned around, and when his gaze met hers, she could see the light fill his eyes, his face. A light of hope, and she took a deep breath, praying she was making the right decision.
“You were right,” she said, then paused to catch her breath. “I am afraid. Afraid of losing you, afraid of taking the chance of falling for you again. And please, don’t say anything, not until I tell you why.” She drew in a deep, fortifying breath, then she barreled forward, the words tripping over themselves, because if she didn’t say them now, she never would. “When you said we should get married, I panicked, thinking that I would end up married to someone who didn’t know me at all, someone who would never know the way to my heart. Someone too wrapped up in the minutia to see the big picture or to open up and really love me, if that makes sense.” She paused, worrying her bottom lip. “I thought if I found someone else, someone who did the poetry and love songs and romance, I’d be happy. I’d feel loved. I was wrong.”
“You met someone else over the summer?”
She could hear the hurt in his voice. How she wished she could take it away. But where would that get them? Jeremy was right, she was the one with the wall up between them and she needed to tear it down if they were ever to have a second chance. “I met one of those charming, romantic guys that you see in movies or read about in books. He swept me off my feet.”
“Great.” Jeremy nearly spat the word.
Damn. This was hard. She didn’t want to say it, but she had to. “It seemed great, at the beginning. I got all caught up in the romance of it, and got lost. I let this…fiction lead me to believe it was something real, when it wasn’t. I realized that all the romance and fiction was a mask for a guy who only wanted one thing. And when he got it, he was gone.” Her hand strayed to her abdomen, and her eyes filled. “I had a flat tire, and he wanted nothing to with fixing it. I made a huge mistake, and trusted too much and…” She shook her head. “I almost ruined my life.”
His gaze raised to her face, concern flooding his blue eyes. “Are you okay?”
Of all the things she had thought Jeremy would say, asking her how she was would be at the bottom of the list. Those three words told her more than any other three words she’d heard before or since. All this time, she had doubted his love for her, when really, it was her own feelings that had been shaky.
No more. Where had those doubts and that fear and that worry about everything being just so gotten her? Nowhere she wanted to be, not until now.
She smiled, then took a step forward, jumping off that bridge, not even worrying anymore if she could undo the locks or not. “I want a man who will be there when I have a flat. A man who will give me loving advice about avoiding that flat in the first place, and most of all, a man who knows me inside and out. Who remembers my coffee order and sends me a silly pen to congratulate me on a deal, and who works hard to build a career and a life for us. A man who loves the real me, not the fiction we all put forward in the beginning.”
“I have always loved the real you, Rebecca, but I didn’t always tell you or show it. I let those goals get in the way of us. I can’t promise to never do that again, but I can promise I will always try to keep this first.” He pulled a photo strip out of his shirt pocket and held it up. She recognized the images in a second, even though the strip was a little crumpled. Three serious poses, and then the last one, Jeremy in a rare moment of being silly.
“That’s my favorite picture of you,” she said, her voice soft and quiet.
“I’ve been keeping it over my desk, to remind myself not to take work too seriously. That the most important thing in the world is relationships with the people I love.”
She grinned. “Maybe I should get you a glittery feather pen.”
He chuckled. “It’d be a hit at the office.”
She took his hands in hers and held them tight, looking into Jeremy’s steady blue eyes. She saw depth there, and truth. He was a man with flaws, like any man, but one with true character. She hadn’t valued that, not until now. “I love you, Jeremy Hamilton, and I can’t imagine spending a single day of my life without you. I want to jump off that bridge with you.”
A grin quirked up one side of his face. “Are you proposing to me?”
She nodded. “Really badly, too.”
“Oh, Rebecca.” Then he shook his head, his features somber, his eyes shadowed. “I can’t let you do that.”
The words hit her hard and swift, a sledgehammer to the gut. “Oh. Okay.” She swallowed and started to step away, but Jeremy tugged her back.
“I can’t let you do that, because…every woman deserves a proper proposal.” He glanced up, then back at her. “And if we hurry, I can do it right. Come on, Rebecca.”
They dashed back the way they’d come, down the concrete path of the bridge, passing painted Smoot markers until they’d reached the exact spot between 182 and 183 again. The sun had nearly finished setting, washing Boston’s sky with pink and purple. Jeremy dropped to one knee, then took Rebecca’s left hand in his. He reached in his pocket and fished out a ring box, flipping back the lid with his thumb. A princess cut diamond winked back from the black velvet bed.
She gasped. “Is that what I think it is?”
He nodded. “I’ve been carrying it around for months.”
“You have? Why?”
“Because if there was even a snowball’s chance in hell that you’d marry me, I was determined to do this right. So here I am, trying again.” He took a deep breath, then looked up at her. “I love you more than I ever imagined loving anyone. I want to share every sunset I can with you, for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me, Rebecca?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding, tears spilling over her lashes and down her cheeks, “yes, I will.”
He tugged out the ring, then slid it onto her finger. The diamond caught the last rays of light and flickered gold across her features. He got to his feet and took her hand. In his, her delicate fingers felt oh so right. Everything about her fit like that with him, perfect.
Across from them, the sun had finished its journey, replaced by the pale light of the moon and the twinkle of early evening stars, as if the sky was celebrating with them. All across Boston, streetlights and apartment lights flickere
d on, like fireflies dancing across the cityscape.
A perfect moment, timed to the last second with the heavens aligned just right, just as Jeremy had pictured. He leaned over and kissed Rebecca, her lips sweet and warm and everything he ever needed or wanted. And right there and then, Jeremy Hamilton knew exactly how it felt to land a Kickflip McTwister.
Did you enjoy THE GROOM WANTED SECONDS? Keep reading for excerpts from the rest of Shirley Jump's Sweet and Savory Romances or add them to your bookshelf now!
Purchase THE BRIDE WORE CHOCOLATE
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Purchase THE ANGEL TASTED TEMPTATION
Excerpt from The Bride Wore Chocolate
Book 1 in the Sweet and Savory Novel series
"The Bride Wore Chocolate is a sweet, indulgent love story to cure your cravings." – Romance Junkies
CHAPTER ONE
Candace Woodrow stared at the gooey, sunken mess inverting onto itself like there was a Hoover under the table. "This was supposed to be a groom's cake, not a pancake."
Rebecca poked at the chocolate failure. "Did you cook it long enough?"
"I thought I did," Candace said. "I lost track of time because Trifecta needed to go out."
"I've seen you with that dog." Maria wagged a finger at her. "Taking a three-legged dog for a walk is a comedy of errors." She gave an indulgent smile to Candace's shelter-rescued mutt, dozing in the front part of the shop, separated from the kitchen by a glass door. "We still love ya, Trifecta, even if you are a living tripod."
Candace laughed. The best thing about working with her friends every day was the laughter. Without them, she swore she'd have gone crazy planning her wedding.
Two years ago, the three of them had started Gift Baskets to Die For in the basement of Candace's Dorchester duplex. Within a year, their food-themed baskets had hit it big with the corporations in Boston, allowing them to open a storefront in a quaint building not far from Faneuil Hall Marketplace. Business had been brisk enough to pay both the rent and decent salaries for all of them.
Candace's life was settled, secure. On an even, planned keel. She was twenty-seven, three weeks from being married, and her life was chugging along on the path she'd laid out.
Everything was perfect—except the cake.
"Maybe the eggs were spoiled," Candace said. "I mean, look at this thing. It's an overgrown hockey puck."
"It's a sign." Maria nodded and her shoulder-length chestnut curls shook in emphasis. "Yep. Definitely a sign."
Rebecca shushed her. "Will you stop with that? This is Candace's wedding we're talking about. Don't make her more nervous than she already is." She took another look at the cake. "I think you just underbaked it. Besides, this was a trial run. We'll make another one before the wedding."
"What if it is a sign?" Candace threw up her hands. "Look at all that's gone wrong with my wedding. The DJ I booked had a heart attack—"
"He said the wheelchair won't stop him from spinning CDs," Rebecca pointed out.
"If he doesn't electrocute himself with the IV drip," Maria added.
"And then last week Father Kenny ran off with the church secretary."
"Who turned out to be a Daniel, not a Danielle like we all thought." Maria grabbed a raspberry thumbprint cookie from the Tupperware container on the counter and took a bite. Maria Pagliano's method of dieting involved buying the latest issues of Cosmo, Glamour and Woman's World, picking and choosing the parts she liked from their diets of the month, then chucking the whole thing on weekends.
"Don't forget the fire at the dress shop. I still can't believe the store burned to the ground, and with your dress inside." Rebecca twisted a scrunchie around her straight brown hair, creating a jaunty ponytail. On Rebecca Hamilton, almost any hairstyle looked good. She had one of those long, delicate faces made for Cover Girl. "It was kind of heroic, though, how that cute fireman kept you from going in after it. He saved your life"
"I would have rather he saved my dress," Candace muttered. "At least I have insurance. But I still need to find another dress. I can't get that particular one anymore and even if I could, there's not enough time to order it."
"You haven't bought one yet?" Maria's jaw dropped. "But Candace, the wedding's only three weeks away."
Since Candace had said "I will" to Barry, it had been one disaster after another. If she put stock in things like signs, she'd have called off the wedding months ago. But she didn't believe in any of that. It was a string of bad luck, mat's all. Marrying Barry was the right choice, she was sure of it Candace had never made a move in her life that she hadn't thoroughly researched, planned and analyzed.
Well, except one. But that had been a long time ago. Ever since then, Candace had subscribed to the "more control is better" life mantra. That's why Barry was so perfect for her. They matched like plaid and stripes.
On her marrying Barry list the pros had far outweighed any cons. Now if Murphy's Law would just see that too.
Candace sighed. "Between the business and all those last-minute glitches, I haven't had time to find another dress."
Rebecca looped her arm through Candace’s. "Tonight we're going dress shopping, and then well get good and drunk because tomorrow is Sunday, our day off, and we don't have a single delivery due on Monday."
Of the three of them, Rebecca was the oldest by four months and thus had become the unofficial decision maker. She was also the thinnest and the only one who came equipped with both an iron will and a Blackwell-worthy fashion sense. And, as the sole married one, the wisest when it came to matters of weddings and bridal gowns.
"Wow. An instant vacation." Maria grabbed a second cookie and finished it off in two bites. "I hope the bar is well stocked."
Rebecca gave her a wry look. "You mean you hope the bartender is well built."
"Yeah, that, too." Maria smiled. "But if he doesn't know how to make a killer margarita, what good are looks?"
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Excerpt from The Devil Served Desire
Book 2 in the Sweet and Savory Novel series
"This story is HOT, HOT, HOT…. I relate to this girl! It's a girl's dream come true, a hot man and hot food…. You won't be able to put this one down." – Drea (5 star, Amazon review)
CHAPTER ONE
Maria Pagliano was serious this time.
No-holds-barred, no-prisoners-taken, no-cheese-allowed serious. She had eight weeks to do what she'd never been able to do before—lose twenty-five pounds.
This time, she vowed, was going to be different. She wasn't going to cheat and fall victim to her own desires. But in order to stick to her plan, she needed a little help, which was why she had come here on a Tuesday night.
To a meeting of the Chubby Chums support group.
In the lime green basement of a tiny church in Boston's North End, a dozen or so people sat on folding chairs in a circle. Above them, a fluorescent light flickered and hummed like a pathetic disco ball. Maria crossed her legs, pantyhose swishing in the quiet, trying very hard not to think about the lone manicotti from Guido's Italian Cafe sitting in her apartment refrigerator.
"Welcome, group!'' A woman in tight jeans who looked like she'd never been tempted by a bowl of raviolis in her life stepped into the room and opened her arms wide, in an all-encompassing group hug. "And how are my Chubby Chums tonight?"
"We're peachy with light syrup!"
Maria looked around at the group, all laughing at their practiced pun. Had she accidentally stumbled into the Lunatics with Heart Support Forum?
The pixie leader's name badge said, Hello, my name is: Stephanie, with a smiley face and an exclamation point. Stephanie took a seat in one of the chairs, thrusting out her hands. The group copied her, becoming a human circle of joined palms. A portly guy—his tag declared his name was "Homer"—grabbed up Maria's left hand with a sweaty palm, giving her a smile that lacked a few teeth. "Jillie," a middle-aged sniffling woman, put down her stash of tissues to take Mari
a's right hand in a floppy fish grip.
Then, as if on cue, the group dropped their heads to their chests and began to recite: "God grant me the serenity to accept my goal weight, the courage to resist anything with more than three hundred calories, and the wisdom to check the fat grams before I open my mouth and insert a fork."
Goose bumps rose on Maria's arms. Bunch of lunatics.
She should leave. But...
Mary Louise Zipparetto had gone from a size twenty to a size two, with the help of the Chubby Chums. Mary Louise had told her mother, who'd told Maria's mother, who'd told Maria over a cheese danish, that Mary Louise would be wearing a sleeveless Band-Aid of a dress to the class reunion to show off her new figure.
No way was Maria going to let Mary Louise be the best-looking woman in the Sons of Italy hall. All her life, Mary Louise had been the one to compete against. The first one to get an "A" in Mr. Marcetto's impossibly hard geometry class. She'd run for class president and won— two out of four years in high school. The other two, Maria had taken the top spot and made Mary Louise serve as veep.
And now, Mary Louise was skinnier and planning on taking the spotlight at the reunion.
Over Maria's dead bruschetta-fortified body.
Maria straightened in her seat, yanked her hand away from Homer, who let out a sigh of disappointment, and started paying attention. Stephanie's hands danced around her head as she talked, dramatizing her clear joy at being among a crowd of wannabe-thin people.
"Let's get started with a little bit of sharing! Tell us the last food you ate today and then name an animal you'd most like to be."
Mary Louise Zipparetto. In a size two.
