Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel)

by Novak, Brenda

  “I’ll do that,” she promised.

  “And you’ll stop by soon for that cup of coffee?” he pressed, feeling a sense of urgency to get that much of a commitment from her.

  “Sure. In the meantime, watch that language.”

  “It’s a promise,” he said as he watched her head back to the road and take off at an impressive clip. Clearly she was a woman who took her running seriously. Maybe one of these days, he’d be able to join her.

  But first he had to get back to walking on his own two feet again.

  ***

  Emma ran until she was out of breath and her legs felt wobbly. For once her workout hadn’t been about pushing all thoughts of her disastrous marriage or her recent writer’s block out of her head, but getting rid of those delicious images of a soaking wet Jaime Alvarez. His T-shirt had clung to an impressive chest and biceps likely toned by hard work, rather than workouts. Damp, his coal black hair had curled in a way he no doubt detested. And that smile…She sighed just thinking about it. It could curl the toes of an angel.

  Yes, indeed, Jaime Alvarez was quite possibly the sexiest man with whom she’d ever crossed paths, so definitely not her type. If she ever had another relationship -- and that was a huge and probably insurmountable if -- it wouldn’t be with a man who likely had women falling at his feet. Been there, done that, wrote the book on it. Literally.

  Emma had dissected the end of her marriage to a man just like Jaime in a bestselling book. She’d laid bare all of her emotions, every insecurity, every destructive, hurtful act that had chipped away her self-esteem. It had been published as fiction, but there wasn’t a paragraph in those pages that she hadn’t lived.

  In the book, though, the heroine triumphed. Emma really envied that.

  In real life, Emma had retreated to Chesapeake Shores and taken a job at the library working for her mother, because it was safe and the hours were flexible enough to allow her time to write another bestseller…if only she could. That wasn’t the triumphant ending that had drawn readers to her first book. Rather, it was downright pitiful.

  “But I’m going to fix that,” she promised herself as she showered and walked to the library that had been built eight years ago and over which her mother ruled with an iron fist. Emma might have scolded Jaime for his language in her best imitation of Jessica Hastings’ censure, but Jessica herself might well have gone a step further. She would have reported him to Mick as being a bad influence and suggested he be run out of town.

  “You’re late,” her mother said when Emma walked into the bright airy library.

  No good morning. No asking if everything was okay. That was her mom, a stickler for the rules, even when it came to her only child.

  Rather than taking the attitude to heart, Emma focused on her surroundings. Mick had done himself proud with this building. The main room was filled with sunlight filtered by a grove of surrounding trees. In the spring a garden of azaleas bloomed right outside the windows and benches invited readers to sit quietly and enjoy the small, burbling fountain in the middle of the peaceful setting.

  Restored by the sight, Emma forced a bright smile. “Sorry. I stopped to help a neighbor.”

  Now that was something Jessica understood. She was all about good deeds. “You met a neighbor? How wonderful! Someone new to town?”

  “In a way, I guess. He works for Mick O’Brien, but from what he said, he mostly handles Mick’s projects in other parts of the country. He’s here now because he fell off a roof at a construction site and broke his leg.”

  “Oh dear. The poor thing must be miserable if he’s used to being busy.” A worrisome calculating expression crossed her face. “You should make a casserole and take it over. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

  Emma smiled at the predictable suggestion. “Mom, he has Mick looking out for him, which means all of the O’Briens are looking out for him. I doubt he needs another casserole.”

  “Then perhaps you can pick out a few books you think he might like and take those by. Now that’s something you’re more than qualified to do. I doubt anyone else has thought of it.”

  Emma loved to read, a passion that her mother had inspired in her at an early age. She’d always thought having a librarian as a mom, despite Jessica’s sometimes starchy demeanor, made her the luckiest girl in the world. She’d grown up with unlimited access to the newest books and no one had ever chastised her for preferring to sit on the front porch with a book to hanging out with a bunch of giggling teenage girls and hormonal boys.

  Of course, maybe that was why she’d been so unprepared to deal with a man like her ex-husband. He’d been handsome. He’d possessed southern charm to spare. And he’d been determined to win over the only girl in the entire freshman class at the University of Alabama who hadn’t given him a second glance.

  In retrospect she’d seen that the whole romance had been about the challenge. Derek Watkins, as she’d discovered much too late, had taken a dare that he could convince the shy little wallflower to go out with him. Emma had said no repeatedly, which had only fueled his determination.

  Ironically she hadn’t been playing hard to get. She’d been terrified. A worldly man like Derek had seemed larger than life, a hero out of the pages of a book. Clark Gable as Rhett Butler had come to mind the first time she’d met him, in fact. She’d long since accepted her limitations. She wasn’t Scarlet O’Hara. She wasn’t anybody’s heroine.

  But a part of her had apparently wanted to be, and eventually she’d allowed herself to be convinced to go on a first date, then a second. By their sophomore year they’d been a couple. To her shock, Derek had asked her to marry him just before graduation from college. By then he’d managed to convince her that their love had been inevitable, that it was real and lasting.

  Only later had she discovered that he was just fulfilling his parents’ demand that he settle down. She wasn’t exactly a trophy wife. She was smart, presentable and eager to please. Apparently that was sufficient proof that the previously reckless, devil-may-care Derek was capable of making good choices and being responsible enough to manage his trust fund. His parents had adored her.

  For a couple of years, Derek had put on a good show of being a loving and faithful husband. He hid his affairs. After that, he didn’t bother, assuming Emma was so grateful to have such a prize in her life that she’d ignore the behavior. And, stupid woman that she was, she had until she’d overheard one of their friends whispering about what was going on behind her back and wondering why on earth she put up with it.

  Emma considered the evidence to which she’d apparently been blind, did the math and concluded she was the most naive woman on the planet. She didn’t like the label.

  The very next day she’d walked out, filed for divorce and moved to Chesapeake Shores to join her mother, who was in full command of the new library and blessedly short on part-time help.

  A few months later, after frenzied writing day and night, Emma had submitted her first book to a publisher. A year after that it had hit store shelves. Apparently her story resonated with a whole lot of women, because sales had immediately skyrocketed, which Emma actually found a little sad. Were so many women living lives of quiet desperation that a book about a woman who’d gotten out of a lousy marriage actually inspired them?

  “Emma!”

  She blinked and saw that her mother was regarding her with a worried frown. “What?”

  “I’ve been talking for the past couple of minutes about books I think this new friend of yours might like. Did you hear a word I said?”

  “Not really,” she admitted ruefully. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours,” Jessica said with real regret. “Why don’t you shelve all those books that I checked in earlier? We can discuss books for your new neighbor later.”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  With a sigh, Emma went to work on the tedious task that would keep her occupied for the rest of the morning. As she shelved t
he books, she discovered several to put aside for herself, but none she thought might appeal to the man she’d met that morning. Why was she not surprised? All she really knew about him was that he could curse like a sailor, was sick of being cooped up in that charming little cottage, and that her hardened heart had taken a couple of surprising little stutter steps when they met.

  That last was more than enough reason to stay far, far away from him.

  ***

  “Why’s your newspaper soaking wet?” Mick inquired when he stopped by for his daily visit with Jaime. He held the soggy mess in one hand, scanning the living room for a trash can.

  “Sprinkler came on,” Jaime reported succinctly.

  “And the paper hadn’t made it onto the porch,” Mick concluded. “I thought you’d called and explained the situation.”

  “Several times. It’s okay. I can survive without the paper. That’s what TV news is for, right?”

  Mick gave him a sharp look. “You seem a little testier than usual this morning. Something happen?”

  “When the sprinkler came on and soaked me, too, a neighbor caught me expressing my annoyance,” Jaime said with regret. “She wasn’t impressed.”

  “And this neighbor was someone you’d otherwise like to impress?” Mick asked, his eyes lighting up. “Female? Pretty?”

  Jaime recognized that gleam. He’d seen it often enough. “Yes to both, but get any ideas about matchmaking out of your head, Mick. You’re my boss. My social life is no concern of yours.”

  “When was the last time you actually had a social life?”

  “I’ve dated plenty,” Jaime said defensively.

  “Name one woman you’ve been serious about in all the years I’ve known you. And remember we met when you were still a wet-behind-the-ears kid totally focused on college and work. You’re, what, forty-two now? I don’t see that much has changed.”

  “There was Yvette,” Jaime said at once, thinking fondly of the woman with big blue eyes, a pixie haircut and incredible athleticism in bed.

  “Yvette was perfectly safe because she lived in Paris and had no interest in moving to the States. Name an available woman.” When Jaime remained silent, Mick gave a nod of satisfaction. “I thought so.”

  “Mick, not every man is cut out for marriage.”

  “The ones who claim they aren’t just haven’t found the right partner,” Mick countered. “Tell me more about this neighbor.”

  At Jaime’s scowl, Mick only grinned. “Okay, at least tell me her name.”

  “Now why would I tell you that? So you can go off and interrogate her?”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Mick protested indignantly.

  Jaime laughed. “I know a whole slew of people in your family who’d say otherwise. Why don’t you go pester one of them? I’m fine. Thanks for stopping by.”

  Mick actually looked startled. “You’re kicking me out?”

  “I am unless you want to sit down and fill me in on everything that’s going on at work, maybe bring me my laptop so I can stay on top of things for myself.”

  Mick slapped him on the back. “Not happening, pal. You enjoy this break. Make the most of it. If you feel up to going to Luke’s pub later, let me know and I’ll come by to pick you up.”

  As Mick left, Jaime glanced down at his restricting cast and shook his head. To his way of thinking, a vacation would involve waterskiing, maybe some hiking, definitely some sailing and kayaking. This wasn’t a vacation. It was torture.

  And the only interesting prospect for breaking up the tedium had literally run away this morning without a backward glance.

  Chapter Two

  After her half-day at the library ended, Emma grabbed a tuna salad sandwich on a buttery croissant at Sally’s Café and ate it sitting on one of the benches along Shore Road. She never tired of views of the bay, the ospreys and occasional eagles that swooped through the blue sky or the laughter that drifted from children playing along the shoreline. The absence of that view was her only regret about the little house she’d bought a few months ago after living with her mom when she’d first moved to town. The only cottage she’d been able to afford wasn’t on the water, though if she peered between the trees in the fall, she could catch a glimpse of it across the road.

  Today, feeling surprisingly content, she basked in the sunshine and view as she ate her late lunch, then debated going home to stare at her computer screen in the hope that inspiration for a second novel would finally strike. Instead, she opted for some surefire fiction by heading to the bookstore. That pile of books she’d put aside at the library would only last so long.

  Emma found the owner, Shanna, an O’Brien by marriage, leafing through a catalog of upcoming books. They’d become instant friends when Emma moved to town and discovered the little shop with the outstanding collection of the latest books. Best of all, there hadn’t been a single copy of her old bestseller on the shelves to taunt her. Of course, Shanna had ordered it the minute she’d realized a local resident had written a novel, but at least she didn’t make a fuss about it or ask when the next book might be coming out.

  “Oh, perfect timing,” Emma said eagerly, pouring herself a cup of Shanna’s notoriously weak coffee and joining her friend at a table in her little coffee area. “What’s coming out next month? Anything good?”

  Shanna chuckled. “You can’t find enough books in the library?”

  “Are there ever enough?” Emma asked, though she could feel color climb into her cheeks. It was true, as a book-aholic she did have an embarrassment of riches at her disposal.

  “I suppose not,” Shanna agreed. Her expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before, Emma. You probably read as much or more than anyone else in town, including me. Why don’t you join our book club?”

  Emma was startled by the invitation. “I thought it wasn’t a real book club. Aren’t all the members O’Briens? And isn’t it just an excuse to get together and gossip about your men and whatever the hottest news in town might be?”

  “Mostly,” Shanna agreed. “But it would be really nice for me to have at least one other person there who might actually read the book.” Her expression brightened. “Or we could start another club here at the store. I do have a few customers who might be interested. They’re more serious readers than anyone in my family, much to my regret.”

  More than ready to spend an occasional evening with company other than her own, Emma nodded at once. “Sure. Count me in for either one.”

  Shanna looked surprised. “Seriously? You’d be interested?”

  “Why not? It would be fun to talk to other people about books they’re reading. It’s the best way I know to discover new authors.”

  “You mean aside from working in a library and hanging out with a bookstore owner?” Shanna teased.

  Emma laughed. “Yes, aside from that. As to the other topic of discussion, I am woefully ignorant about town gossip, so that could be fun, too.”

  “Then I’ll see what I can pull together, either with the family or here at the store. I’ll let you know when I have something specific.” She hesitated. “Changing directions, don’t you live at the end of Wisteria Lane in that cute little bungalow with all the wisteria arbors in the garden?”

  Emma nodded.

  “Would you consider doing me a favor then? Do you have a little time to spare?”

  “Absolutely. Anything you need.”

  “I took a phone order earlier from someone and promised I’d have the books dropped by. He can’t get around so easily. I was going to do it myself, but Davey has a soccer game and I promised I’d be there the minute I close up tonight. My son, bless his heart, was skeptical. To my regret, he has reason to be. I’ve let him down too many times lately thanks to being swamped at this place and with his two younger siblings. All that babysitting I was counting on my oldest to handle?” She shook her head and sighed. “Henry’s a great kid, but he’s not really into it, at least not as often as I could
use him. Now that he’s getting ready for his senior year and looking at colleges, I can only play the mom card every so often.”

  Emma felt a little tug of anticipation even as she asked, “Is your customer Jaime Alvarez, by any chance?”

  Shanna’s eyes lit up. “Ah, so you know him?”

  “We met this morning.”

  “Perfect, then I won’t be asking you to stop by some total stranger’s. It shouldn’t take more than a minute. Jaime’s not feeling very social these days.”

  “So I gathered.”

  “Uh-oh. Did you two get off on the wrong foot?”

  Emma described their meeting that morning. “I came off as a snippy librarian. I sounded a lot like my mom, I’m afraid.”

  Shanna chuckled. “Knowing Jaime that just fueled his interest.”

  “He’s a big flirt?”

  “Always has been,” Shanna said. “Doesn’t matter if a woman is short, tall, thin or fat, married or single, Jaime flirts. It’s very flattering, as long as a woman’s smart enough not to take him seriously. I don’t think he’s a settling down kind of man. Of course, I’ve only been around him when he joins the family for dinners at Mick’s on these whirlwind visits of his. Could be my impression is all wrong.”

  “Unfortunately that was my impression, too,” Emma admitted.

  “Just flirt back. It’s good practice,” Shanna advised. “I’ll grab those books for you.”

  Emma reluctantly accepted the bag and headed toward home, her steps dragging as she got closer and closer to Bayside Retreat with its neat lawn and a flower garden that needed tending. Before turning up the walk, she finally gave in to the urge to peek inside the bag.

  A new James Patterson thriller. Predictable. A Louise Penny mystery. Hmm. That was less predictable, A little intriguing, in fact. And what was this last one? A signed first edition of an old Thomas Black mystery by Earl Emerson, a Seattle author. That series had been one of Emma’s secret vices. Thomas was a little sexist, but the relationship in the books was wonderfully written.