by Lynn LaFleur
Whispered Surrender
Lynn LaFleur & Randi Monroe
Part of The Tarot Café Series
Abby Horton finds herself manipulated into managing her aunt’s upscale flower shop the week of Valentine’s Day. A Manhattan office manager by day and playwright by night, Abby knows nothing about the floral trade.
Retired NFL superstar Brett Kincade stops by to order his Valentine’s flowers and catches the gorgeous new gal in town reading an underground review of Whispers by the Sea—a five-star resort specializing in providing adult sensual dining and their guests’ wildest fantasies come true. Their attraction is instant. With a little coaxing from Brett’s famous “soft hands”, Abby eagerly accepts his invitation to Whispers the next night.
Dressed from head to toe in gifts Brett sends throughout the day, Abby can barely breathe wondering what’s in store for her at Whispers. The reality tops her fantasy, but is this the start of something she’s dreamed of since her first visit to Seaside as a skinny, mouth-full-of-metal fifteen-year-old? Or just another one-night stand for an ex-jock who has everything?
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Whispered Surrender
ISBN 9781419924514
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Whispered Surrender Copyright © 2010 Lynn LaFleur & Randi Monroe
Edited by Raelene Gorlinsky
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication February 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Whispered Surrender
Lynn LaFleur & Randi Monroe
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Bergdorf’s: The Neiman Marcus Group, Inc.
BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft Corporation
Carrera: Dr. Ing. h.c.F. Porsche Aktiengesellschaft Corporation
Hiltons: Hilton Hospitality, Inc.
Holiday Inns: Six Continents Hotels, Inc.
Honda: Honda Motor Co., Ltd.
Mercedes: Daimler AG Corporation
Porsche: Dr. Ing. h.c.F. Porsche Aktiengesellschaft Corporation
Snickers: Mars, Incorporated
Viagra: Pfizer, Inc.
Chapter One
Ace of Cups
The Stirrings of the Heart ~ An Emotional Renewal
A new relationship or the revival of an old one
“Chill, man, you’re making me nuts.” Brett Kincade slapped his mug of ale on the tabletop. In the past fifteen minutes, Slade Blackstone had checked his watch at least a dozen times.
“Kari’s never late.” Slade tilted his wrist, as if seeking better light and a new reading. “She got off work twenty minutes ago.”
“She’s a woman, bro. They take a thousand words to say goodbye.”
“Hey, a little respect. You’re talking about my wife.”
Brett rolled his eyes. “She’ll be here soon. Chill!”
“I can’t wait for you to meet her. I’m telling you, man, you’re going to love her, just like I do.”
Brett laughed out loud at that. “You’d better hope I don’t love her like you do.” He bobbled his eyebrows and wished he wore a mustache to twirl the ends. Slade had been his wide receiver for one season at Notre Dame—brilliant, cool under pressure, never ran a wrong pattern. Yet in the last six hours, every time someone mentioned Kari’s name, Slade melted like cotton candy. She must be some kind of woman.
Brett still chuckled, until he saw Slade’s smile fade. “Kari knows everything about me now, but nothing about my past.”
“You mean the past where you walked away from a lucrative NFL career and chose the Marines instead? I’m not sure I’ll ever understand that either. We could have made Rice and Montana look like they were still playing Little League ball.”
Slade took a long pull at his beer. ”Kind of ironic, isn’t it? Kari wouldn’t know a football from a hockey puck. She’s not into sports at all.”
“Then I’ll stick to stories about our frat parties and spring break.”
“No!” Slade said quickly, his eyes wide. “She thinks I’m a saint.”
“Man, do you have her fooled.”
They bumped fists. “Totally.”
“Of course that might mean some blackmail’s in order.”
Slade groaned. “Shit.”
Brett met Slade when he’d pledged to Brett’s fraternity in his freshman year. They’d clicked immediately, even though Brett made him jump through enough hoops for two pledges.
Later, when the starting wide receiver broke his ankle and Coach put Slade in the game, Brett knew that together they were unbeatable. Another couple of years and they would have set NCAA records that still stood today.
After graduation, he tried to talk Slade into pro ball. Instead, Slade joined the Marines and later did a stint as a Reno cop, then opened his own private investigations agency. He never looked back.
Brett didn’t look back either. He’d piled up victories and stats that hovered near or stood at the top of lists in all the records books. He could have stayed on another three, four years, but by thirty-three, he’d begun to find recovering after each game a little harder, his steps a little slower. He’d seen too many athletes stay too long. Still at the top of his game, Brett Kincade said adios to the NFL and headed back to his hometown of Seaside on the southeast coast.
He leaned back in his chair, looked at the contented man who sat across from him and said, “You really love her, don’t you, man.”
“Like crazy.”
Brett took another sip of ale. He hadn’t seen Slade in more than three years. Had even missed Slade and Kari’s wedding because of a business trip to Japan. Then out of the blue, his calendar cleared. With a Friday and Monday free, he’d picked up the phone. A spur of the moment trip to Northern California for a weekend of skiing with Slade and a little action at the dice tables was exactly what he needed.
Slade picked him up at the Reno airport late this morning. Like the good ol’ days in South Bend, they gorged on cheeseburgers the size of the fifteenth green at Augusta, and enough boasting and BS-ing to keep them going for another three years. Meeting Kari was icing on the cake.
He wouldn’t have long to wait if the expression on Slade’s face meant anything. Brett watched it turn from concern to joy in seconds.
He followed Slade’s gaze to the entrance of The Tarot Café, and the super hot babe who stood waiting for her eyes to adjust from the bright winter sun to the mood li
ghting in the bar. Dark hair, blue eyes, cheeks pink from the kiss of the cold. She wore her parka open, revealing tight jeans and a hint of beautifully rounded breasts peeking out of a deep V-necked sweater. Yow-zah!
“There’s my bride.”
“You lucky sonofabitch,” Brett mumbled as Kari spotted them and headed toward their table. A grin as big as Slade’s lit her face.
Both men stood. Brett stepped back while Slade pulled her into his arms for a hug. “What took you so long?”
“Arguing with Betsy’s Boutique about their ad.” She looked at Brett. “You must be that world-famous quarterback I’ve heard so much about.”
“Ex-quarterback.” Brett took a step toward Kari. “Current businessman.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you, Brett. You’re all Slade’s talked about since you called.” She stood on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. An explosion of heat passed between them so quickly, Brett thought perhaps he’d imagined the sensation.
Kari pulled back from him. She stared into his face, her eyes wide, her lips parted.
“What’s wrong?” Brett asked.
“Uh-oh,” Slade said. “I know that look. What did you see, Kari?”
“See?” Brett looked from Slade to Kari and back again. “I don’t understand.”
Frowning, Kari rubbed her forehead. “I need to sit down.”
With a hand on her elbow, Slade guided her to the chair between Brett and him. He pressed his glass of water into her hands. “Take a sip, sweetheart.”
“What’s going on?” Brett asked.
“Kari has visions. And before you start snickering, her visions are real. That’s how we met. She saw Brenda when she went missing two years ago. My little sis would have died without Kari’s help.” He squeezed Kari’s hand. “What did you see, babe? Is Brett in trouble?”
In trouble? Brett didn’t like the sound of that.
“Quite the opposite. But what I saw doesn’t make any sense.” She looked at Brett. “At first, I thought it might be bad because I saw a storm, and some kind of gym. Maybe a high school gym.” She rubbed her forehead again. “Suddenly a large body of water appeared, and a castle. And…” She glanced back at Brett. “Don’t laugh, Cinderella’s carriage.”
A chill galloped down Brett’s spine and goose flesh rose on his arms. He knew exactly what Kari described. He didn’t believe in psychics or any of that New Age bullshit. But how did Kari know? How did she describe something so perfectly without having seen it? Impossible. Even Slade didn’t know about the storm or Whispers by the Sea.
Brett tensed when Kari laid her hand on his arm. “I don’t sense anything ominous. In fact, it’s all good. Warmth rushes through me when a vision is good. I’m feeling a great deal of that right now.”
“Can you tell me more?”
“I can only tell you what I saw. But I know the castle and the body of water, even Cinderella’s carriage—they’re all going to make you very, very happy.”
Brett stared at Kari a long moment, then at Slade and back to her. He didn’t know what to say. He jumped when Slade pounded his fist against the table.
“Son of a bitch, Kincade, I never thought I’d see you speechless.” He turned to Kari. ”This is the original silver-tongued devil. He can spread it like nobody else. And you’ve stopped him in his tracks.”
“Then maybe Brett needs a reading,” she said.
The hairs rose on the back of his neck. “A what?”
“A Tarot reading.” She waved her hand in a circular motion. “I guess Slade didn’t tell you about this place.”
“What about it?”
”Our friends Leandra Knight and Synda Day own it. Synda’s the best chef on the eastern slope, and Leandra does superb Tarot readings.” She picked up a menu and showed him the tag line written at the bottom. The Tarot Café—where your taste buds are tempted and your future revealed.
Brett hadn’t paid much attention to the name of the restaurant and only glanced at the New Age art on the walls when he and Slade walked in. “I’m not much for the woowoo stuff.”
Kari arched one eyebrow. “Are you saying my vision is woowoo stuff?”
Oh, shit. “No. I mean, I’m sure your visions are… I’m not…” He stopped, unsure how to get himself out of the hole he’d dug.
Slade snorted. “Keep trying, Brett. You’ll get your tongue to work eventually.”
Brett tried again. “Kari’s proven her visions are real, but Tarot readings… I don’t put much faith in them.”
“Theirs are as accurate as Kari’s,” Slade said. “Synda and Leandra are good, Brett.”
Kari looked over her shoulder. “There she is.” She waved to Leandra. “She does a great reading.”
Brett didn’t want to say no to his friend’s wife, though he’d rather sit through a Sunday sermon after an all-night party than listen to any more magical mumbo-jumbo.
“Hi, Kari,” Leandra said when she drifted over. “Red or white this afternoon? We’re featuring a great little Pinot today.”
“Not right now, thanks. Have you met Brett?”
She nodded. “Slade introduced us when they came in.”
“I had a vision about him just now. Will you do a reading for him?”
“Of course.”
Brett smiled weakly. He knew better than to argue with a determined woman. He was about to have his cards read whether he wanted them read or not.
Leandra took the fourth chair at the table and removed a velvet pouch from the pocket in her long skirt. “What kind?” She shuffled the cards. “Four card spread? Celtic cross?”
The more she shuffled the deck, the more uncomfortable Brett became. “Look, I’m not really into this.”
Leandra smiled. “Not a problem. We’ll keep it simple.” She fanned out the deck face down on the table. “Think a moment about what Kari’s vision revealed, then choose one card and turn it over.”
“What’s one card going to tell me?”
“A lot.”
Brett looked at Kari and Slade. They stared back at him, true believers. With a soft sigh, he chose a card and flipped it over.
The Ace of Cups.
Leandra’s smile widened. “The stirrings of the heart. Excellent. A new beginning in your emotional life. You’ll be blessed with love and happiness.”
A new beginning in my emotional life? Shit, he’d seen better fortunes fall out of cookies.
Brett glanced around the table. The gorgeous Kari wore a blissful expression with an I-told-you-so smile. Slade’s smile said, “I done good.” Now there’s a dude who’ll get lucky tonight.
Only the Tarot chick looked pensive. She obviously believed in this stuff, and obviously had more to say.
He studied the card and the picture of a large goblet with what looked like sunrays shooting out the top of it. “So this card tells me I’m going to find love?”
Leandra nodded. “It could be a new love, or the revival of an old one.”
Despite his lack of belief, Brett couldn’t stop his mind from rushing back to a time so many years ago, when he’d been trapped in the dark during a storm with a girl he’d known only by her first name. For three hours they’d clung to each other, sharing their most intimate secrets. In the time they were together, he’d learned the meaning of soul mate.
But the timing had been all wrong. He left two weeks later for Notre Dame and devoted himself to football while she went on with her life.
“Brett?” Slade said. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” He straightened in his chair. “So when do I meet this love of my life?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Leandra answered.
“But I can,” Kari said. “Soon. Very soon.”
Chapter Two
Two months later
Seaside
Whispers by the Sea, The Ultimate in Sensual Adult Dining!
Abby Horton re-read the headline then flipped to the magazine’s cover. She’d picked up an ope
n book and wasn’t sure what she was reading. The Underground Guide to Seaside, an in-town guide to after-hours jazz clubs and specialty shops not normally explored in magazines found at Hiltons and Holiday Inns.
She turned back to the review, grateful for a quiet moment. She sat in the showroom of Love In Bloom. Her aunt Rose owned the flower shop, and for reasons Rose refused to explain, insisted she had to get away for a week or so. Abby, and only Abby, could take her place.
”You know I don’t know a thing about floral design,” she’d pleaded with her aunt. Valentine’s Day was less than a week away.
Rose refused to budge, and when Abby stepped off the plane in Seaside, her aunt boarded a flight to Rio.
Abby picked up the Guide again. At thirty-two and celebrating the second anniversary of her divorce, she certainly understood terms like “adult” and “sensual” but adult sensual dining? That was a new twist.
Let me issue a warning before you read any further. Whispers is not a place where girlfriends lunch before a Saturday matinee, nor the place to take the grandkids when they’re bored with pizza. And it’s definitely not for a first date unless your lady is adventurous and uninhibited.
“Hmm.” Abby slid onto the metal stool behind the counter and turned her back to the door.
Whispers is an incredible dining experience. Exquisite cuisine, only the best French and California wines, and not a bottle of scotch aged less than thirty years.
Our evening began with a limo ride through the hills to a place with a magnificent view of the ocean, cliffs and seashore. I’ve lived here twenty years and never found this place before.
Abby leaned back against the counter. She’d lived in Seaside for nine weeks as a young teenager while her parents were getting settled at her father’s new tour in Germany. Even then she’d had trouble finding her way through the tangle of one-way streets leading to the beach.
