by Dawn Atkins
Then Tina dropped the Slim Jim and put her head in her hands. “Who am I kidding? I miss him so much I want to die.” She raised tear-filled eyes. “I miss the way he really listened to me. Even when I was such a bitch to him, he said he loved me—the real me. What if it’s true? What if he does love me? Just the way I am?”
“Then you’d be a fool to let him go,” Kara said, her own voice shaking with emotion. “Talk to him. Be honest with him.”
“I can’t.” Huge tears rolled down Tina’s cheeks.
“Yes, you can. You have to.” How could Tina be so stubborn?
“But I don’t deserve him.” The words came out raw, as if torn from her throat.
“Oh, Tina.” Kara got out of her chair and went to hug her.
Her usually bristly friend accepted the embrace with both arms. “I’m so scared,” she said into Kara’s shoulder.
“Of course you’re good enough for him,” Kara said, leaning back to look in Tina’s face. “You’re a fabulous, kick-ass, smart, funny, sexy woman and Tom’s lucky to have your love.”
“You think?” She searched Kara’s face. For once, she was really listening.
“I know. Talk to Tom. Tell him what you told me. Trust him with the truth.”
Tina gave her a watery smile. “You’re a good friend, Kara. I don’t deserve you, either.”
“Sure you do. But you are going to have to do something about the bad breakfasts you’ve been bringing.”
In a moment, Tina collected herself. She took a deep breath, wiped her face and squared her shoulders, as if preparing for battle, and set off…to think about talking to Tom.
Kara gnawed absently on the remains of Tina’s Slim Jim, her own words haunting her. Trust him.
That was great advice for Tina, but what about for her? Did she trust Ross?
Obviously not, since she’d given up at the first roadblock. In the work world, she’d fought her way to success time after time, but at the first hint of trouble with love, she’d let it drop like an overheated sweet roll. She’d had no faith in him at all. Or her own choices. Ross had seemed wrong in so many ways. He didn’t even have a good job.
But Ross was fine with his job. He and Tina were right. She had been trying to change him so he would seem more like the right man for her.
But that was wrong. When you loved someone, you believed in him, whether he pumped gas, made art or trimmed palm trees. You loved him whoever he was. You gave your heart freely, committed yourself, for better or worse. You had faith in him. In your love.
And she did love Ross for who he was—for his humor, his kindness, his laid-back style, his sexy confidence, maybe even for his Charlie’s Angels’ shower curtain. But she’d told herself that wasn’t enough. She’d given herself a ground rule and ignored her heart.
If Ross didn’t want a more responsible job, that was his business. She took another bite of Tina’s Slim Jim. Mmm. She looked at it. How low had she sunk? She should be eating carrot sticks and low-fat yogurt.
But she was sick of that stuff. She wanted something wicked and sinful and spicy like Slim Jims. And Ross. What a boring life she’d had before he came into the Hyatt dressed like Miguel. She loved Ross, but she also needed him, for exactly the reasons he’d seemed wrong for her. He kept her eyes open, kept her jumping, tipped her out of her safe little Tupperware tub into his unpredictable world of delights.
She jumped to her feet, her heart pounding. She had to talk to Ross, tell him she had faith in him—in them—and that she loved him no matter what job he had.
Showing him would be better. What would work? And then she knew exactly what to do. All she needed was the costume.
TINA PUSHED HER WAY into the Upside, her heart in her throat. This was it, for all the marbles. There was Tom, dear Tom, the love of her life, working away, his big body, solid and sure, filling the space behind the bar, just the way he filled her heart.
So what if he’d rather serve drinks than chitchat? So what if he liked to be in bed at nine? She didn’t mind if she was in that bed with him, naked and in his arms.
Tom loved her. That was what mattered. More importantly, he believed in her—the inner Tina, the soft, shaky woman she guarded from everyone but just might be able to trust to him.
But what if he’d given up on her? She faltered for a second. Maybe she should come back another time or call him tomorrow.
As if by radar, Tom looked up and caught sight of her. His face filled with such joy that she found the courage to head for the bar, holding his gaze, not caring a bit about the men watching her pass.
She stopped in front of him.
“What can I get you?” Tom asked, his eyes bright with…could it be hope?
You. For the rest of my life. She felt tongue-tied. “I’m not sure exactly what I want.”
Tom watched her, wary, but he absorbed everything about her face, every curve, every wrinkle she hid with makeup, every fear she hid with bravado, and beyond, to her hopeful soul.
She couldn’t make a word come out, so she reached across the bar, grabbed Tom by his shirt and kissed him. Her whole heart was in that kiss. It was big.
Distantly she heard the dull crack of thick glass breaking. Careful Tom had let a mug crash to the floor, then he grabbed her up and hefted her over the bar and into his arms. “Let’s make that a double,” he said, and kissed her again, and it was warm and wonderful and safe…and scary.
“Champagne on the house!” he shouted to the crowd, more exuberant than she’d ever seen him.
“Not so fast,” she said, yanking him down to her eye level. “We have to talk about this.” The entire bar was silently watching, so she lowered her voice. “I’m still me. I’m not perfect. I get wild and bitchy and insecure. I’ll make you angry and I’ll let you down.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” he said softly, kissing her on the forehead. “And I’ve been an ass. I was afraid you’d run away, so I hung on too tight. Be whoever you want to be. Party all night if you want. Just come home to me.”
Amazingly enough, the moment he gave her that freedom, she no longer needed it. “I love you, Tom,” she said, her eyes watery with tears. “So much.”
Tom lifted her off her feet for another kiss. The bar crowd cheered. Maybe they just wanted free drinks or maybe they knew true love when they saw it.
They weren’t out of the woods, Tina knew. They would struggle and argue and complain and adjust. And they would go really, really slowly. But when she looked into Tom’s eyes, as deep and blue as the lake they’d sailed, she had the feeling they might just make it.
EARLY MONDAY EVENING, Kara stood on Ross’s doorstep, her heart in her throat. He’d wanted to talk to her, too. Something about a new plan. Ross talking about a plan—now that was a good sign.
She sniffed the rose bouquet, taking the sweet musk deep into her lungs for courage, and pushed the prickly netting away from her face. It wasn’t just the tight costume that was cutting off her breathing. Her whole future was at stake here.
If Ross went pale and shut the door in her face, she’d be devastated. But she hoped he’d hold out his arms and accept the whole package. Just as she was ready to do.
She rang the doorbell. No answer. Come on, Ross. Surely he wasn’t still in the shower, though it would be just like him to be late for his own fantasy wedding. That wasn’t fair, since he had no way to know there was a miniskirted bride hopping from foot to nervous foot on his terrace.
“You look pretty.” Abby, the little girl from downstairs, said, craning her neck to look up at Kara. “Can I smell?”
Kara bent down so Abby could get a sniff of her bouquet. Something ripped on her dress in the back. Uh-oh.
Abby’s inhale drew a red petal into her nostril for an instant. “Mmm,” she said, stepping back to examine Kara in wonder. “When I get married I hope I look just like you.”
“When you get married, I hope you feel just like me,” she said. “Feeling is the most important part of a wed
ding.”
Abby looked at her seriously, as if she’d absorbed this wisdom deep in her heart. What a mature little girl, Kara thought, until Abby said, “Do you have any candy on you?”
“Excuse me?”
“At my cousin’s wedding there were white and pink mints. I got sick and threw up in the bathroom.”
“I see. No. No candy right now, but if we have a wedding, I’m sure there will at least be cake.”
“Oh, okay. But not lemon. I hate lemon cake.” Abby bounded away just as the door flew open and Kara looked up to see Ross standing there in a dress suit. For a second, she almost thought he’d read her mind and was dressed for her bridal fantasy. It wasn’t a tux, but it would have looked perfect on top of a wedding cake, even down to the funky retro tie with hula dancers that was so very Ross. Was it one of the Love Thief restraints?
He helped her to her feet, looking at her with the same wide-eyed wonder she knew her face wore. “You look…amazing,” he said, pulling her inside.
“This is for that fantasy you always wanted…the virgin bride,” Kara said, suddenly embarrassed about the speech she’d planned. “It’s a costume. I mean, we’re not going to really get married or anything. It’s just symbolic, you know? Like I said before? Remember?”
He just stared at her.
“I’m wearing it because I want you to know I have faith in you—in us. No matter what you decide to do with your life—become a creative director or a comic book collector.”
“Well, I think—”
She rushed on, wanting to get it all out before he could argue. “I realized that love doesn’t come in a neat package with everything all figured out. You have to open yourself up and love who you love, accept him for who he is and let that be enough because…because it will be plenty….”
“You’re absolutely right. And I—”
“Plus, you’re good for me. You keep me alive and open. You help me slow down and smell the desert rain. Maybe I can’t hike the Grand Canyon on a whim, but I want to explore life—with you, anyway—and if we practiced hiking a little at a time, I could maybe work up to it, and—”
Ross shut her up with a kiss, and she melted and the world tilted and spun until she thought she might faint with happiness.
Ross broke off the kiss. “You don’t have to hike the Grand Canyon as long as I never, never have to buy a minivan, no matter how many kids we have.”
“Kids? What are you…? Isn’t that rushing things?”
“Not the way I feel right now,” he said softly. “You make me want everything, Kara. Kids and a house and a dog and a future. You’re good for me. I figured out I kind of need to be pushed.”
“You do?”
“But only in the direction I really want to go,” he warned.
“Of course.”
“And I kind of like knowing where my video games are and having hot pads so I don’t burn my hands…and I took the job.”
“You what?”
“Yeah. Meet the new manager of the creative department. Even Peter Pan has to grow up some time. I talked to Siegel today and as long as I can keep some clients of my own—to keep up my artistic chops—I’ll do it.”
“Ross, that’s wonderful!” she said, then moderated her tone. “But only if it’s what you want. Because there was nothing wrong with your life the way it was.”
“Except it didn’t have you in it,” he said, and his face went soft with love. “Thank you for believing in me, Kara, even when I wasn’t ready to believe in myself.”
“I believe in us together, too. And thank you for keeping my life fresh. Thanks for giving me taxi rides in the rain and chocolate-covered strawberries and sexy lingerie and…Slim Jims.”
“What?”
“Never mind. You make my life sparkle.”
“And you make my life solid. And worth something.”
And then their lips met in a kiss sweet with forever.
After a long, long while, Ross ran his hands down the back of her dress. “So this is for the virgin bride fantasy, huh?”
“Yeah,” she murmured in his ear, nibbling his lobe. “The one you always wanted.”
“Sounds great. For now. Until we wear this stuff for real.” Kara couldn’t believe her ears. What had seemed a foolish fantasy—Kara and Ross as bride and groom—would one day happen. She felt she was floating a few inches above the ground.
Until Ross started kissing her neck and working on the row of tiny buttons at the back of her dress. Then she landed firmly on the ground to enjoy every second of this.
Struggling with the buttons, Ross groaned. “I thought it would be fun to get you out of all this, but I want you now.”
“Not a problem,” she said. She stepped away from him, grabbed the hidden seam between her breasts and yanked the sides apart, revealing the fact that she wore nothing underneath.
“Ooh, baby,” Ross said, his eyes full of lust and love. “No underwear. Kara Collier, you’re my type after all.”
“And you’re mine,” she said, tugging him closer by his belt. She’d fallen for the absolute wrong man and it had turned out absolutely right.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7782-7
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Copyright © 2003 by Daphne Atkeson.
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Table of Contents
Letter to Reader
Books by Dawn Atkins
Title Page
Dedication
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Copyright
