by Rebecca Rode
“Remarkable. So you recommend women use your system even before the first date to determine which traits are most valued to them. And then they rate potential partners afterward.”
“That’s correct.”
Susan opened her arms wide at the camera crew. “Where was this book before I married my first husband, I’d like to know.”
I laughed with her, but I ached inside. My words were exactly what I’d practiced, but they felt hollow somehow. I’d never even rated Micah. If we’d met in any other way, would I have written him off immediately because he wasn’t exactly what I thought I wanted?
Yes. I knew it like my own name—I absolutely would have.
The producer held up the one-minute sign.
I spoke before I’d truly had time to consider my final words. “One last thing, Susan.”
“Of course.” Her smile was strained.
I took a deep breath. “I’d just like to say that life isn’t like we’d like to believe. We see perfect men on TV, in movies, and read about them in novels. So we expect to see them when we date as well.” I turned back to Micah, whose eyes seemed to bore into my very soul. “This system isn’t designed to help us find the perfect man. It’s designed to help us find the right man.”
“Now,” Susan jumped in, “in your book you said there was no such thing as The One. Have you changed your mind?”
“No, I still believe that. What I’m trying to say is that there are hundreds of Ones for us, men who bring out the best in us, who complement different parts of our personalities—who bring strengths to our weaknesses. Men who can literally complete us in an infinite number of ways.” I smiled at Micah. “And sometimes you’re lucky enough to find one who transcends the ratings altogether. When you find one of those, you’ve got to hold on to him.”
“Beautiful words. And what do you plan to do now that your book is a success?”
I straightened. “I’m going to start a Love Right consulting business. There’s nothing in the world I want more than to help people find love.”
“Well then, I wish you the very best of success.”
“Thank you.”
Susan turned to the camera and introduced the segment coming up after the break. I barely heard her.
As the light on the camera darkened, Micah winked.
Then it was over.
***
“I’ve never dated a TV star before,” Micah said as we sat in back of a very cliché yellow taxi. I laid my head on his shoulder. He held my hand on his lap, gently stroking the lines of my palm with his other hand. “Does this mean I’m famous by association?”
“That depends on how long you stick around,” I murmured drowsily. We’d arrived to the station at 4:34 a.m. They’d ushered us quickly through the preparation process. I hadn’t slept much on the plane, so they applied extra makeup to the bags under my eyes. The past forty-eight hours seemed like a dream now. All I wanted to do was crawl under the covers of a soft bed and forget about life for a very, very long time.
“Mmm. Well, if you’re offering me a choice, I plan to stick around for a while.” He paused. “I mean, look how many things there are to see here. I’m sure we’ve got a good three days of places to visit before we go back for your knee surgery. Got to get this big-city thing out of your system.”
I smiled and thought about what the next few days would hold. We’d probably stand atop the Empire State Building and take a ferry to Ellis Island. If I got my way, we’d take a night cruise in the bay and a long, romantic walk—wheelchair ride, actually—in Central Park. But he was right. I didn’t want to live here. Too many people and not enough sky for me, just as Micah had predicted.
“And then?” I prompted. “What do you plan to do after that?”
“Figure I’ll go home to Mission Verde. If all goes well, maybe I’ll try to convince this girl I know to have dinner with me sometime.”
“She’ll probably tell you she’s got to visit her mother first.” I’d called my mom from the airport last night. She had answered on the second ring, as frantic as I’d known she would be. Apparently Sofia had called her. I’d had to talk Mom into staying home rather than flying out to see me at the hospital since I was leaving. We’d spent a few minutes chatting before I told her I’d met someone. She’d immediately ordered me to bring him home so she could meet him. I didn’t know how to tell her that she’d probably seen him around town.
Micah gripped my hand in his, strong and warm. “It’s very possible I’ll team up with her mom and try to convince her to stick around, maybe set up her first consulting clinic in Northern Cal. Plenty of businesses do consulting online and over the phone these days, so they can reach clients anywhere in the world.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “If she doesn’t have her heart set on Los Angeles, of course.”
I pulled away from his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “I can honestly say there’s no part of my heart in Los Angeles.”
“That’s what I hoped you’d say.”
He leaned in for a kiss, and soon we were lost in each other as the skyscrapers of New York streamed past.
Thanks for reading! Rebecca also writes science fiction and dystopian romance. To get two novellas for FREE, click here.
About Rebecca Rode
Rebecca Rode is an award-winning author, freelance journalist, and mother of four. She is the author of the bestselling Numbers Game series and the inspirational book, How to Have Peace When You're Falling to Pieces. She also writes for Deseret News, KSL.com, FamilyShare, and Provo Daily Herald. She enjoys traveling, reading, and shaolin kempo, and she has a ridiculous addiction to chocolate-banana shakes. Visit her at www.AuthorRebeccaRode.com.
Best-selling and Award-winning Numbers Game Saga:
Numbers Game
Numbers Ignite
Numbers Raging (coming soon)
Waves of Deceit
by Donna K. Weaver
copyright © 2016 by Donna K. Weaver
Twenty-six-year-old Shelby Nash wants to break free of her controlling, billionaire father. With the completion of one more project for his company, she can branch out on her own. However, her ex-boyfriend’s been appointed as the new lead architect. She has to find a way to protect her heart from him while avoiding whoever’s making anonymous threats.
Wade Masters did a poor job handling the news about the identity of his girlfriend’s father. Shelby walked out of his life without another word. Finally, four years later, Wade has a chance to win her back. As long as whoever’s targeted her doesn’t get her first.
Chapter 1
SHELBY STUDIED THE GRANTHAM INDUSTRIES building up the street, an icon on the San Francisco skyline. What would her little-girl self—her hungry little-girl self—have thought if she’d known her absent father owned entire buildings? That reclusive Charles Grantham, with his fancy homes and cars, had a daughter running around shoeless and in threadbare clothing? If construction on the new skyscraper hadn’t already begun ten years ago, when the man had claimed his parental rights over her, Shelby might have thought he’d built it here just to ruin one of her favorite cities.
But no. That might imply he cared enough to make an effort to irritate her.
Turning her back on the Grantham Industries structure, she closed her eyes and pulled a memory from last year’s visit. San Francisco had produced a warmer than usual day, and she’d even gotten a little sunburn. Alan too. Shelby opened her eyes with a grin. For once, he’d agreed to go with her, and security had pitched a fit about the silver-haired head attorney and the boss’s daughter renting a tandem bicycle to ride in Golden Gate Park. She and Alan had ended a perfect day with hot fudge sundaes at Ghirardelli Square.
Since just before her sixteenth birthday, Alan had served as the closest thing she’d ever had to a father figure. In so many ways, he treated her like the daughter he’d never had. When she finally broke with Grantham Industries, she’d miss only him.
With a sigh, Shelby entered her destination,
a coffee shop so crowded the door barely closed behind her. She inhaled the fragrances of coffee, baked goods, and chocolate. The place must be as good as she’d heard if it had drawn this large a crowd already.
Shelby pulled out her phone to check her calendar, her stomach uneasy. Only one more job to get through—and one last annual check-in at headquarters. She grimaced. One last opportunity for her father to shun her by not bothering to show his face or speak to her.
For ten years, he’d tried to control her life. To a point, he’d succeeded. But that was about to end. She looked forward to giving her notice.
Another clerk arrived. As the line split, Shelby scooted over to join one. So many people. She checked her phone again. No emails yet in response to the résumés she’d sent out. She’d have to get hold of a letter of recommendation soon. Her father would never write one, no matter how hard she’d worked for him. After she got the new assignment today from Alan, she’d have to ask him about writing her one.
“I’ll have a Love Potion hot chocolate.” A familiar male voice ripped Shelby right out of her worries. The man at the front of another line followed his request with an embarrassed chuckle. “I need all the help I can get today.”
Wade. As her past superimposed itself on her present, the air seemed to disappear from her lungs. Her traitorous feet took a step toward him. She forced herself to stop, stunned that after all this time she still wanted to go to him.
“Love Potion?” The clerk asked, giving him a quick, appreciative look over. “A big, handsome guy like you?” She gave him a flirty look.
Shelby took a step back and bumped into the guy behind her. “Sorry,” she mumbled. So what if other women came on to Wade? Why should Shelby care? He’d rejected her; she’d walked away. Yet, she continued to stare at him. The fit, tanned man at the front of the line no longer resembled the lurpy college freshman she’d taken under her wing eight years ago. She swallowed. Or even the tall letterman he’d become, who’d broken her heart four years later.
She hadn’t seen him since the day before graduation; she’d just left. Hadn’t even walked with her class. She took another step back. What brought him to San Francisco anyway?
The phone in Shelby’s hand rang. Startled, she nearly dropped. At the sound of The Trogg’s Wild Thing—the song Wade had chosen for her all those years ago—people looked her way.
She spun, still fumbling with the phone, in case Wade turned around and saw her. The line of people now extended out into the street, and a man stood holding open the door. With a quick swipe to accept the call, she squeezed out of the door. “Hang on,” she said into the phone as she walked away briskly. She would not cry. After taking a deep breath, she said, “Shelby Nash here.”
“You all right, Shel?” Alan asked without any greeting.
“I’m fine.” Her hands still trembled a little, and she had to force herself to calm down. Whatever had brought Wade Masters to San Francisco, she must not allow his presence here to ruin her trip. The City was big. The odds that they’d ended up in the same coffee shop were low enough. How likely were their paths to cross again?
“Hmm.” Alan always knew when she was upset. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but your father wants you to come to the office this morning. Like right now.”
She bit back a snarky reply; no need to take her frustration out on Alan. As he was fond of saying, don’t kill the messenger. And he sounded a little on edge. Wade’s presence in San Francisco suddenly seemed a bad omen.
“Shel?”
“I’m here.” She took another deep breath and loosened her grip on the phone, rubbing where the fingernails had dug into her palm. “So nice of Dearest Daddy to care whether or not I might already have an appointment this morning.”
“He knows you don’t have an appointment.” When she huffed, Alan continued, “Give your father a break, please. It’s a security issue. I know you hate this, but please don’t fight it. If not for him, then for me. He’s not the only one who’d be devastated if you were attacked.”
“Right, like he’d really care.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Shelby didn’t argue anymore. Alan’s tone told her he believed what he said.
“Shel?” Alan asked. “You’re not moving. You’re only a couple of blocks away, so it shouldn’t take you long to get here.”
With pinched lips she held the phone away from her and stared at it. She looked around for a trash can.
“Don’t throw another phone away,” Alan cautioned, his voice coming softly from the phone in her hand. “You know what happened the last time you thought your father had put a tracker in it. I swear, you’re turning as paranoid as he is.”
She put the phone back to her ear. “I’m not. And even if I was paranoid, I have a good reason for it.” She scanned the area around her. “If it’s not my phone, where’s my security detail?” She gave up all hopes that this trip would be like last year’s.
Alan mumbled something to the side. A tall Asian man standing outside a cafe ahead of her raised a hand and tipped his head toward her. Shelby continued to scan the area, stopping on a Hispanic woman a few paces back who also had a hand raised.
“Two this time?” She changed her direction toward the Grantham Industries building and started walking.
“That I’ll let identify themselves.” Alan’s tone took on a flatness she’d come to understand meant worry. “There have been threats.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and it took effort not to look around again. She knew better than to ask for details, but she couldn’t help wondering if the threat targeted her specifically. One more negative to being Charles Grantham’s daughter.
“Am I still going to have guards when I leave?” She continued to walk.
“They’re security, not guards.”
“Bodyguards?”
Alan let out a deep breath. “All right. Bodyguards. I really am sorry, but yes.”
So she was the target. Terrific. “Where is he sending me this time?”
“Off the coast of sunny Southern California. Now don’t ask any more questions. Your father wants you to meet someone you’ll be working with on this assignment.” Alan paused for a second before lowering his voice. “It’s a big one. I think it could be your big one. Talk to you in a few.” He disconnected.
Her big one. Shelby quickened her pace. When she’d graduated from college, she’d never intended to work for her father. Alan had talked her into it with a promise of good assignments, ones to help her grow her reputation as a project manager faster than she’d likely have been able to do herself.
Her father had directed her jobs, each one increasing in complexity and the amount of responsibility. She’d even been approached by a couple of companies, enough to give her confidence to send out résumés. She’d been waiting a long time to tell her father what he could do with this job.
By the time she reached where the Asian guard had been, he’d merged into the crowd of people on the sidewalk. She moved faster until she walked alongside him. “If you’re going to be part of the detail for the next project, we might as well introduce ourselves. You already know who I am. What’s your name?”
“It rather defeats the purpose if people know where your bodyguards are, Ms. Grantham.” The Asian man continued to walk and did not turn his head toward her.
“My name is Nash.” She didn’t try to keep the venom from her tone. “Nash.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am.” Even though he didn’t add “Ms. Grantham,” his tone conveyed the words.
“Fine. I guess I’ll be seeing you around then.” Shelby slowed her pace, steaming.
She waited until the man had reached the middle of the street before slipping into a little shop. The proprietor, an older woman with Slavic features, perked up, but Shelby put a finger to her lips.
“I think there’s a creepy guy following me,” she whispered, ducking behind a display rack.
“I call
cops?” The woman reached for her phone.
“No cops. It might be nothing.” Shelby scanned the back of the crowded little grocery store. The place must have a way to receive deliveries. “Do you have a back door?”
“Yes, yes. This way.” The old woman moved as though to lead the way.
“There he is,” Shelby hissed, pointing to the door as she squatted down. He’d reacted even faster than she’d expected. Had the woman guard seen?
The shop’s little bell rang as the door opened. Shelby hoped no parts of her were visible. How embarrassing to be caught hiding. Maybe she could pretend to be looking for something on the bottom shelf. She scanned the words on the glass bottles, but they were in another language; she had no idea what they meant.
“I help you, mister?” The woman hurried toward the door, waving her hand behind her.
If the store had a back door, the merchandise hid it well. The muscles in Shelby’s knees started to burn, and she already regretted her impromptu rebellion. It was her own fault; she knew better than to let her father get to her.
“Did a young woman come in here?” the guard asked. “Medium height, brown hair with a red streak in the front? Wearing a black jacket?”
“No,” the shopkeeper said. “See. No one here.”
“You’re sure?” His tone had taken on a menacing edge. Shelby didn’t have to struggle to imagine what his expression must look like. She’d need to buy something to make up for being a bother to the old woman.
“I sure.”
The sound of the door’s bells jingled. As much as she wanted to stand, Shelby waited until the shopkeeper appeared at the display rack.
“He gone now.” The old woman helped Shelby stand.
“Which way did he go?” She shook out her legs and rubbed the cramping muscles above her knees, staying below the shelving in case he showed up again.
“He go look other shop. I call cops now?”
