What a Girl Wants

by Selena Robins

  “That’s all we have time for today,” Anthony said. “I’d like to thank Maddie Saunders for joining us. Stay tuned for information on where to purchase a copy of What a Girl Wants…”

  Maddie left the radio station, hopped in a cab, went home and changed into Alex’s Yankees sweatshirt— she always wore it when she missed him the most. She sat by the window, eating Ben and Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, looking down at the park, where the rain pelted the park benches.

  Her phone rang. It was Reece.

  “You sounded great,” Reece said.

  She swallowed a spoonful of ice cream. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, what’s wrong? You don’t sound as perky as you did on the radio.”

  “I’m good.” She dug into the tub. “You know, the usual. I miss Alex. I used up my adrenaline on the show. Did I mention I miss Alex? Enough about me, how’s work? Busy?”

  She let her mind drift while Reece answered. She had the feeling Alex had wanted to tell her to get her ass over to London a few times—but he never had. Of course there were times she’d wanted to tell him to get his ass home—but she never had. When they were together it was like they’d never been apart.

  A few times they had let the separation get the better of them and snapped at each other. There had been a few loud discussions, a time or two where one would hang up on the other, but they’d recovered quickly and talked it through until it was resolved.

  With a deafening beat of her heart, she realized there were two more years of this. She squeezed her eyes shut. That thought gave her anxious butterflies, but she calmed down thinking about the decision she had made last week.

  “…it means more money, so I can get a bigger place.” Reece said. “Hey, you still there?”

  Shit. “I’m sorry, Reece. I zoned out. I’m listening now. What were you saying?”

  “My new strip, Brazen Babes. It’s going into syndication. We’ll celebrate next week.”

  “I’m so happy for you!” Reece’s new comic strip was being touted as the hottest and boldest new strip around and had garnered rave reviews. “You deserve it. We’ll color the town and celebrate just like a couple of your Brazen Babes.” Maddie’s phone beeped. “Felicia’s calling in, can you hold?”

  “I’m headed out for a meeting. I’ll catch up with you later. Bye.”

  Maddie pressed the button to answer Felicia’s call.

  “Madison, we all tuned into the show. Everyone here sends their congratulations. You sounded so professional! I told you you’d be great.”

  The everyone Felicia was referring to was the staff at Women in Transition, an organization that gave a hand up to homeless and unemployed women, with makeovers, career counseling and resume support. Felicia was the female Henry Higgins who helped the Eliza Doolittles at the center with their hair, makeup and wardrobe.

  “Thank you and thank everyone there for me. Which reminds me, I have a few boxes packed that I’d like to donate. And I’ve finished editing the resumes. They’re good to go.”

  “I’ll arrange to have them picked up. Are you up to going out for dinner tonight?”

  “Me, Ben and Jerry are already dining. Cap’n Crunch will be joining us soon.”

  “Madison.” Felicia gasped. “That’s no way to treat your body.”

  Some things never change and they never will, Maddie thought. She and Felicia still butted heads, had even slipped into ignoring each other after arguments a few times, but the silence only ever lasted a few hours now, not days. Her mother had faced her demons and was on her way to recovery. Maddie knew Felicia would play the dating game again at some point, but hopefully when she did, it would be with a healthy attitude toward men and relationships.

  “Um, sorry, Felicia, the battery is dying on this phone. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.”

  Maddie finished the small tub of ice cream and remained by the window, staring out at the rain. She wondered if Alex was still working. She was about to call him when her phone rang again. She glanced at the display. Her lips automatically curved into a smile. “I was thinking about you and about to call,” she said when she answered the phone. “How are you?”

  “Hey, beautiful,” Alex said. “I’m good. Except I miss you like hell. I caught the show.”

  She hugged her arms. The material made her feel close to him. “What did you think?”

  “Will I sound sappy if I tell you I’m proud of you?”

  She laughed. “Sappy’s cool.”

  “Then come here.”

  “You read my mind.” Her smile widened. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I’m making arrangements to fly over in a few weeks—”

  “Sweetheart, open the door.”

  “What? My door?”

  “That would be the one.”

  Could it be? She ran to the door and flung it open. Dropping the phone, she threw her arms around him. “When did you get here? Why didn’t you tell me? How—”

  He smothered her next question with a long, deep, head-rush of a kiss. She repeated his name in between kisses. “I missed you so much.”

  “I’m home, baby.”

  After grabbing a quick shower and something to eat, Alex filled her in on the last few days and why he hadn’t had time to chat on the phone. He’d worked overtime and finished up his project so he could arrive that morning for the show. His plan was to surprise her and meet her at the radio station after the show, but there was a plane delay. Instead, he took a cab to his parents’ place so he could at least listen to the show and not be stuck in a cab while she was taping.

  But all that mattered now was that she was curled up in his arms on her bed. He’d taken an overnight flight and with the time difference, he was tired. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. She lay still and drank in the site of him. Her heart couldn’t be any fuller than it was now. At that moment, she decided what she had to do. She no longer had any fears, any doubts.

  “I can feel you staring.”

  She giggled. “You can always tell, huh?”

  He smiled, pulled her closer and kissed her. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  She pushed herself up and lay on top of him. “I’m going to write a sequel to my book.” She kissed his chest. “I’m thinking of calling it, What a Guy Wants. I’ll need a certain guy’s point of view, which means I’ll have to spend a lot of time with him.”

  He slid his hand under her sweatshirt and rubbed her back. “He better be gay.”

  She giggled. “I love when you get puffy-chested.” She nibbled his earlobe. “I’m crazy in love with the guy I’m thinking about, even if he’s falling asleep on me right now.”

  “Hmmm. Resting my eyes.” Grinning, he unhooked her bra. “I’d love to help you, but I have no idea what other guys want.” He nuzzled her neck with kisses. “But I sure as hell know what this guy wants.”

  She ran her hands through his thick hair. “And what is that?”

  Holding her face in his hands he looked directly at her. “To see the woman I love a lot more than I have been seeing her. To paint her toenails, argue over the remote, feed her chocolate, laugh with her, and support her. In real time. I think we gave the short visits, emails, phone calls a good shot but—”

  “You want more?”

  “Yes.” He ran his thumb along her lip. “Enough to get us on a whale-watching boat in about thirty years, playing cards. I’m winning all rounds, of course. And without asking, I’ll get you a burger. Toasted bun on both sides and loaded with salsa just the way you like it.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Tears threatened behind her eyes. “What if I want a hot dog instead?”

  “You’ll tell me I’m a control freak for the millionth time.” He pulled her head down and kissed her hard. “And I’ll be thinking what a lucky old bastard I still am.”

  “I’m coming back with you.” T
he butterflies in her tummy weren’t fluttering with anxiety, they were flying in happiness. “I can write my book in England. Pick up some contract work. I want to be there with you. I’ve already looked into putting my stuff in storage and Reece will rent this place. She’s sick of her apartment’s bad plumbing and her landlord’s false teeth.

  “I don’t need to be here like I did a year ago. I want to be with you. And it’s not about being needy, or not being able to live without you. I want to support and love you. I can’t do that over here. It’s time I show you how much you mean to me. I trust you. You trust me. We both understand our crazy work schedules. I so want to do this for us. Am I making any sense?”

  “Yeah, you are. But I know how you feel about relocating.” He smoothed back her hair, touching her as if she were made of fine china. “We’re obviously both on the same page. I’m ready to come back here. That’s why I’ve been putting in such long hours, to train people. I’ve even talked to Duncan about renegotiating the contract so I can cut it short—”

  “You don’t have to do that. It’s easier for me to join you.”

  He regarded her with a serious intensity. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I can live anywhere, London, Timbuktu, wherever we are together, that’s where home will be.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “You’re not happy?”

  “You have to ask?” He tapped her behind to nudge her off of him. “I’ll show you happy.”

  He got up and removed his clothing. With swift movements, he draped them over the chair. She followed suit, but her clothes took flight in the corner.

  They took their time making love. They’d always been uninhibited with each other, but this past year, because of the stress of separation there had been a slight reservation in their lovemaking at times. Now Alex showed her exactly how pleased he was, and she showed him she had no doubts whatsoever about relocating.

  After sleeping for a few hours, they showered and ate the omelet she whipped up for them. Then they sat on the sofa, cuddled, and listened to a Chris Botti CD.

  “So,” she said. “You’ve been visualizing us in thirty years, huh?”

  “Does that scare you?”

  “Takes a lot more than that to scare me.”

  “Good to know.” He got up. “Be right back.” He went to the bedroom. She could hear him unzipping his suitcase. He returned carrying a royal blue velvet bag. “I was planning on doing this the romantic way, like on those chick flicks. Dinner, champagne, flowers. But as my favorite author once said, spontaneity is an important part of a balanced diet.”

  He sat beside her, slipped his hand inside the bag, took out a small black box and opened it.

  She stared at the ring inside the box. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. The band was platinum. Spectacular stones of blue, amber, purple, red, green and pink were arranged in the shape of a flower and were surrounded by delicate platinum leaves and tendrils.

  “I had this ring made in London for you a few months ago,” he said, smiling. “You know how you’re always teasing me about telling you I love you in different languages.” He held the box toward her. “Now you have it written in stones.” He pointed to the light blue one. “That’s a Larimer stone. I chose this stone because it begins with the letter L for love.” He pointed to the amber stone. “Amber begins with A for Alohaon Au Ia`oe.” He touched the purple stone. “Amethyst. That’s A for—”

  “Amore?” she asked, and he nodded with a smile. She touched the green stone. “Jade?”

  “J for Je t’aime.” He went on to explain the bluish-purple stone was tanzanite, to represent the Gaelic phrase I love you—Tá grá agam duit. Reddish stone, alexandrite represented his name and the light green stone with dark green swirls reminded Alex of her eyes. It was called malachite, the M standing for Maddie. The center of the flower was a light pink topaz. T for together.

  He took the ring out of the box. “Will you plant new roots with me?” He held her left hand. “Grow old with me? Keep me in line for the next hundred years?” He smiled. “Bake me a pie?”

  She was speechless and could only nod.

  “Maddie, I know how you feel about engagements, weddings.” Caressing her face, he wiped her tears that had escaped. “I’m fully committed to spending my life with you. It doesn’t matter to me how we do it—traditionally, nontraditionally.” He slipped the ring on her finger. “This is my commitment to show you I’m all in.”

  “Perfect fit. Like us,” she managed without blubbering. “Will I sound sappy if I tell you I’d be proud to plant roots with you and keep you in line for the next hundred years?” Okay, so a little weepiness escaped. She let out a blubbery laugh. “Yeah, I can even manage a pie or two for you.”

  His smile was as brilliant as the watery sparkle in his eyes. “Sappy’s cool.”

  She opened her arms. “Then come here.”

  The kiss they shared was so hot, she was afraid the ring would melt off her finger.

  She sat tucked into his arms. “Beautiful ring. Inside and out, just like you. I love you.”

  He didn’t respond. She nudged him. “Hey, did you hear what I said?”

  “You say something?”

  “I said the ring is beautiful inside and out, like you, and I love you.”

  “Oh that.” He squeezed her tight. “I heard you the first time. I just wanted to hear it again.”

  She laughed. “Smart ass.”

  “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

  “I want you every day.”

  The Beginning

  About the Author

  From Selena Robins’ first romance story she penned in the eighth grade—in which she won first prize in a contest—about two race horses who fell in love (the filly won the race and the stud)—Selena has continued her passion for happily ever after both in her life (okay, some days she’s sitting in first class on the Frazzled Express…but still) and in her books. In love with her husband, family, friends, life, books, red wine, and of course chocolate, Selena Robins has always enjoyed writing ever since she could remember. Selena is the published author of Sabrina’s Destiny and Tempted by an Angel. Selena is looking forward to connecting with romance readers with her newest book—What a Girl Wants.

  To learn more about Selena Robins, please visit www.selenarobins.com. Send an email to Selena Robins at selena@selenarobins.com.

  With ghosts like these, who needs TAPS?

  Marshall’s Law

  © 2010 Denise A. Agnew

  If Dana Cummings was inclined to list the best ways to meet men, having one arrest her for burglary—during a tornado, no less—wouldn’t be in the top ten. Dating isn’t high on her agenda, period. She’s sworn to never again fall for know-it-all men with fiery gazes and devastating smiles.

  Besides, she’s only in Wyoming to help her eccentric aunt find out if horny ghosts really do haunt the family bed. And hopefully bust a hellacious case of writer’s block. Extracurricular activity with a gruff, hunky lawman is off limits, even if he does fire her libido.

  Witnessing too much of life’s seedy side led Brennan Marshall to live by three simple rules: work hard, play hard, and never fall for a sweet-faced female with a witty tongue and snappy comebacks. Especially the ones with a dollop of vulnerability—like Dana. But their razor-sharp sexual tension cuts right through his defenses and leads them on a dangerous journey.

  One that will test the limits of their beliefs—and could cost their lives.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Marshall’s Law:

  “What did Lucille tell you about these strange occurrences plaguing her?” he asked, leaning his arms on the desk.

  “She called my mother a few weeks back. Mom said Aunt Lucille had this trembling voice, like sh
e was scared. That’s not normal for Aunt Lucille. She bends under pressure but never gives in. She’s one tough lady. Anyway, Aunt Lucille said that she’d heard noises in the attic and in the basement. Especially the basement.”

  “What kind of noises?”

  Dana wished she hadn’t opened her mouth and mentioned the basement. “Uh…well…” She glanced up and saw he waited, twiddling his thumbs like he had all day. “You’re not going to believe this but—”

  “Trust me, I’ve heard just about everything at least once.”

  “Not this you haven’t.”

  He tossed her a smile. “Humor me.”

  “Okay. You asked for it. You know that big…uh…heart-shaped bed downstairs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, she started hearing people having…” She squirmed in her chair and made a face.

  “Go ahead. People what?”

  “People having sex. She heard people having sex on the bed. But when she went downstairs there was no one there.”

  Marshall never twitched. Yet Dana saw the suspicious twinkle in his eyes before he managed to smother it. Instead, he did something much more disturbing.

  Rising from his chair, he came around the side of the desk and paced the broad area behind her chair. She craned around to watch him.

  “What kind of sounds exactly?” he asked.

  Her chair made an obnoxious protest as she turned it so she could observe his purposeful stride. Eight big steps one way, eight big steps back. Eight big steps one way, eight big steps back.

  “I’m going to get hypnotized watching you do that. Would you mind taking a seat?”

  He increased his pace. “I think better this way.” He came to an abrupt halt, leaned against the wall, cocked one booted foot across his ankle and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.

  She gulped. Good thing he wore that flannel shirt. If he’d stood there in that tight T-shirt—

  “What kinds of sounds?” he asked, jerking her back to the real world.

  She couldn’t say it. Come on, Dana. You aren’t a blushing teen talking to a boy in high school. Spit it out.