Spring Into Love

by Chantel Rhondeau

  Perfect. “Great. I have an idea...”

  ***

  “Hurry up, Sarah,” Jordan said. “It’s our turn.” Truthfully, she wasn’t much interested in continuing the game. She’d just confused The Princess Bride with The Runaway Bride, then watched Beth channel her inner Andie McDowell in reenacting Four Weddings and a Funeral. To top it off, her teammate was now more interested in texting with her spouse-turned-spy.

  “Hey, you’re the one that started this,” Sarah reminded her as she got back to the living room.

  “So what are they doing?” Jordan asked. “Any naked or semi-naked women yet?”

  “Not unless you count the Dallas Stars ice girls. They’re watching a hockey game and playing poker.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like a party Aaron planned.” Beth laughed. “What can I say? He’s a nerd, but he’s my nerd, and I love him.”

  “All in all, it sounds pretty uneventful over there. Kind of like over here.” Sarah took a sip of non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice. “If anyone called for male strippers, though, I feel obliged to warn you that Kelsey has apparently turned double agent.”

  “What?” Jordan exclaimed. “How the hell did that happen?”

  “No idea.” Sarah shrugged. “I guess your future husband recruited her to the dark side.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Jordan said.

  “I think it’s hilarious,” Tracey said. “And, by the way, it further proves how perfect you are for each other.”

  Since Tracey spoke the truth and Jordan had tired of the wedding charade game, she offered no protest and set down her glass. “There’s something I need to do,” she said. “And I’d like my three best friends with me when I do it.”

  “Of course,” Beth said without hesitation. “Anything.”

  Jordan laughed as she stood up. It was great to have friends she could count on. “Come with me to the bathroom.”

  No one objected or looked at Jordan like she was crazy; instead they simply followed her there. Jordan opened the medicine cabinet. “I’m getting married tomorrow, so it’s time to get rid of these,” she said, and dumped what was left of her birth-control pills in the toilet and flushed it. There was no turning back now, and Jordan felt surprisingly okay with that. This was real. All of it was real.

  “Oh, wow.” Tracey’s eyes widened. “Does that mean you’re...”

  “It means we’ve talked about it,” Jordan said. “Given my age, I don’t know if I can say we’re actively trying, but either way, we expect to get plenty of practice.” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “Whatever happens, happens, right?”

  ***

  Kelsey returned an hour later, asking for leftover pizza and confirming what Jordan already knew. “You’re marrying a good man,” she said. “And he’s crazy about you.”

  Jordan nodded, smiling. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Kel. I owe you.”

  “Anytime. They’re good guys. I missed my girl, though.” She put an arm around Sarah, who immediately crinkled up her nose.

  “Ew. You smell like bourbon and cigars.”

  “I know. Sorry. But I won three hundred bucks playing poker.” Kelsey grinned.

  “Oh, well, in that case you’re forgiven.” Sarah laughed.

  “Did you fleece my husband?” Beth demanded.

  “Nope.” Kelsey looked in Tracey’s direction. “I fleeced your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said tersely. “He’s Meredith’s boyfriend. He’s only here to see Lindsay be the flower girl tomorrow.”

  “Whatever,” Jordan said, happy that the scheme to get Steve to Texas with Tracey had succeeded. There was more to do, though. She linked arms with Beth and Sarah. “Let’s get me married off tomorrow, then we’ll work on her, okay?”

  ###

  Leap of Faith

  To see what happens to Tracey and Steve, please check out their story, Leap of Faith:

  Single mother Tracey Hiatt prides herself on having a close relationship with her daughter- the kind of relationship she’s always wanted, but never had, with her own mother.

  When her mother suffers a debilitating illness and faces a lengthy recovery, family takes on a whole new meaning for Tracey as she finds herself pulled back to her ex, Steve Eldridge. There’s only one problem: he’s involved with someone else.

  Steve is drawn back into Tracey’s family drama and after her mother awakens from a coma believing he and Tracey are married, the two are forced to confront some fundamental questions about their relationship.

  Can they put past hurts behind them and take a leap of faith into a new future together?

  Acknowledgements

  As always, I am grateful to everyone who has helped me along the way in my publishing journey. Your support and encouragement means the world.

  I must also thank my critique partners and beta readers for all of their helpful feedback in making this story shine: Chantel Rondeau, Dawn Wimbish Prather, Rachelle Ayala, and Kimmie Easley.

  Thank you to my editor, Alexis Arendt, for your last minute insight and suggestions, and for helping me polish the final draft.

  Cover design by Humblenations

  Books

  Books by Michele Shriver

  Women’s Fiction:

  After Ten

  Tears and Laughter

  Aggravated Circumstances

  Contemporary Romance:

  Finding Forever

  Leap of Faith

  The Art of Love

  Starting Over

  Love & Light (coming spring 2015)

  The Men of the Ice Novellas:

  Playing for Keeps

  Crossing the Line (Late 2015)

  Winning it All (2016)

  Boxed Sets:

  Heroes to Swoon For

  Spring into Love

  Score One For Love (August 2015)

  Author

  Michele Shriver writes women’s fiction and contemporary romance. Her books feature flawed-but-likeable characters in real-life settings. She’s not afraid to break the rules, but never stops believing in happily ever after. Michele counts among her favorite things a good glass of wine, a hockey game, and a sweet and sexy book boyfriend, not necessarily in that order.

  Contact:

  www.micheleshriver.com

  twitter.com/micheleshriver

  Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMicheleShriver

  micheleshriver@gmail.com

  For contests, special gifts, advance reader copies of my books and the chance to hang out and chat and keep up to date on all my publishing news, please consider joining my Facebook group:

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/721292531291721/

  Love Unleashed

  Marcia James

  Copyright © 2012 by:

  M. A. Anderson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Cover design by http://www.StreetlightGraphics.com/

  Web site: http://www.MarciaJames.net/

  This book was built at IndieWrites.com. Visit us on Facebook.

  DEDICATION

  To those readers who've been tempted to "slip the leash" and go a little wild, this story is for you.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Readers rock! Thanks to all of you who take the time to write reviews and share book recommendations on social media. You are truly appreciated!

  Chapter 1

  “Welcome to the third annual Claws, Scales, and Puppy Dog Tails animal adoption fair!” Disc jockey “Rabid Ron” Hart unleashed his trademark howl, and his ruckus fans joined in. “93.6 ‘Wild Thang’ Columbus is broadcasting live from Dalton’s Pet Supply on Elm Street. We’re here to play oldies, goldies, and personal requests until six tonight. So drive down and join us, and don’t forget to check out the pets for adoption!”

  He kicked off the festivities with the appropriatel
y titled song, “Baby, Let Me Take You Home,” by the 60s band, The Animals.

  Ron’s boss always supported animal causes, and 93.6 had heavily promoted this event. So it wasn’t surprising over a hundred of the station’s loyal following crowded the store’s parking lot this sunny May Saturday. They hoped to win the donated prizes, including MP3 players and store gift cards. To keep everyone happy until the drawings began, station interns tossed the fans logoed t-shirts, like the one Ron was wearing with his khaki Dockers.

  On the other side of the parking lot where the music wasn't quite as loud, volunteers from the local no-kill animal shelter unloaded cages from a van, placing them onto a row of tables. Ron knew from the event literature he'd been given that each cage held at least one pet--from kittens and puppies to a snake and a parrot. Those looking for housebroken pets would be able to choose a mature, socialized dog or cat. And the shelter would bring some senior pets as well, perfect for attendees in need of a calm, loving companion.

  Switching off his mic and standing with his back to the crowd, Ron pretended to study his play list. Would she show or not? So much was riding on today. Aching with anticipation, he forced a nonchalance he didn’t feel.

  A second shelter van turned into the parking lot and came to a stop behind the first. And, thank all that was holy, Cara Wilson stepped out. Damn. Just the sight of her after seven months apart triggered a full-body rush.

  Sunlight glinted off her reddish-blonde hair. She’d tamed it into a long braid that trailed down her slender back. God, he loved her hair, the way it had felt in his hands and against his skin when she’d been his to hold, to kiss,...to love.

  A smiling shelter volunteer captured Cara’s attention, so Ron continued to watch her unobserved as memories of their months together assaulted him.

  Next to her tanned brunette helper, Cara appeared ethereal, her creamy skin glowing against the white “Sadie’s Ark Animal Shelter” t-shirt she wore tucked into worn jeans. Her features were so delicate, almost fairylike. He'd teased her once that she'd make a great Tinkerbell for Halloween, but she'd left him for good in early October. And he still didn't know why.

  Cara moved to the back of her van and opened the doors, her movements graceful and confident. Lifting out a cage that looked a third her petite size, she easily carried it to a table. He was intimately aware of the lean strength in her body, thanks to long nights of lovemaking. That thought had his body tightening.

  “That’s her, isn’t it?” His 93.6 sound tech and best bud, “Feral Darryl” Fox, stood openly staring at Cara. “That’s the chick who’s had you tied in knots since last year.”

  “Geez. Why don’t you announce it to the crowd?” Ron covered his microphone with his hand and shoved it toward his friend, who took it before it could crack a rib. “Here. Since you’re so interested in my love life, why don’t you play DJ and spin the next song, so I can talk to her?”

  Darryl nodded. “But I don’t see why you’d want to chase after a girl who’s already dumped you.”

  Ron had asked himself the same thing a hundred times. Why couldn’t he stop thinking of her? And, dammit, Cara’s residency in his brain had killed any real interest he’d had in dating anyone else since she’d broken things off.

  Without replying to Darryl’s question, he strode across the lot to the van. Despite her Shelter Director job title, Cara was working side-by-side with her staff and volunteers. As he walked up, she began muscling another large cage--this one containing a terrier-like dog--from the vehicle’s interior.

  “Need help?” He leaned in and lifted the other end of the cage.

  Startled, she met his gaze. A myriad of emotions flashed across her face, and for one dizzying second, there was something in her pretty hazel eyes he hadn’t seen in more than half a year--desire. Please, God, let him not be imagining it.

  “Ron, I...uh,” she broke eye contact and glanced to the side. “I thought Karl was going to DJ this event.”

  “Krazy Karl” Thompson had been scheduled to work this adoption gig. Hoping to see Cara again, Ron had swapped a highly prized Bachelorette Auction assignment for this animal fair. But he wasn't about to tell Cara that. “Karl had a conflict, so I volunteered.” Okay, it was a lie, but just a small one.

  Cara’s gaze returned to his, resolve masking any softer emotions. “I thought it might be awkward participating in this event together...”

  Awkward seeing her and not being able to touch her? This was torture, but it’d be worth the pain if he could talk her into a second chance. He relaxed his tense shoulders enough to shrug, careful not to jiggle the cage. “We’re both adults, and we can work the fair together to help these animals.”

  For a second, they just stood, each holding one end of the cage as she studied him. He could smell the doggy shampoo they’d used to spruce up the terrier, but he also caught the faintest scent of Cara’s lavender body lotion. It was enough to stir flashbacks of lazy Sundays tearing up the sheets with this woman.

  The terrier yipped, breaking the moment. Ron helped Cara place the cage on one of the sturdy tables, then he followed her back to the van. Together, without speaking, they unloaded three more dogs and six cats.

  When Pink Floyd’s “Dogs of War” blared out of the speakers, Ron sighed. It was time to resume his DJ duties before Darryl turned the event into a homage for his favorite classic rock band.

  “I need to get back on the mic. Let me know when you want me to break between songs so you can talk up the animals.”

  She nodded, and he forced himself to walk away. Then he ramped up his Rabid Ron radio persona for the crowd, spinning songs and awarding prizes for fifteen minutes before Cara approached him for a turn on the mic.

  She spoke briefly but eloquently to the crowd about the plight of homeless animals. Her contralto voice--one of the things he’d always loved about her--hummed along his senses as she explained the rules of the adoption fair. God help him, he could listen to her read the phone book.

  A station groupie sidled up and asked him to sign her t-shirt, which she wore tucked into skin-tight shorts. Licking her lips, she pointed to a spot on the shirt that rode the upper curve of her left breast. He pulled a permanent marker out of his pocket and signed his name, his focus remaining on Cara.

  The girl pouted at his inattention and left to get Darryl’s autograph. Maybe his friend would hook-up with the groupie, but Ron was no longer interested in one-nighters with fans. There wasn’t anything wrong with hot, athletic sex for sex’s sake, as long as both parties knew the score. But since he’d met Cara, he’d wanted more. And he’d done his best to romance her into a serious relationship. When she'd left, he'd been too hurt to dig into what the hell had gone wrong. But now he wanted answers.

  Throughout the afternoon, Ron took a break every fifteen minutes to allow Cara to extol the virtues of this kitten or that pooch. Each time he relinquished the microphone to her, he reveled in her nearness, like some pathetic kid with a crush instead of an experienced, thirty-three-year-old man.

  Cara, for her part, was always friendly but distant, as though they were just acquaintances, not ex-lovers. Damn, it was discouraging.

  One by one, the pets found new owners, and the vans retrieved more needy animals from the shelter. By the end of the day, over $1,000 in donations had been collected and a remarkable 78 homeless animals were adopted. Only one cage remained on the tables.

  Ron thanked the remaining fans, switched off his mic, and handed it to Darryl. “Can you--”

  “Yeah, yeah. I knew when you drove your own car here, I’d get stuck packing up and returning the remote truck.” He glanced toward the shelter vans. “Hope your plan, whatever it is, works.”

  Nodding his thanks, Ron wished like hell he actually had a plan. His first goal had been to see Cara again. Part of him had hoped the spark would be gone and he could just forget her. Yeah, pretty delusional, when he still burned for the woman. And, dammit, he really did want to know what had ended their relationshi
p. Maybe if he knew why she’d dumped him, he could move on with his life. Yeah, right. Who was he fooling? He wanted Cara back.

  Ron strode over to the last cage. Cara crooned softly to the animal within, a dog she’d described in her unsuccessful adoption pitch as a Chinese crested.

  The poor animal resembled a bald Chihuahua with snout-to-tail liver spots on its pink skin. A plain brown collar encircled its scrawny neck. Several of its molars were missing, and the dog’s tongue hung through that dental gap, lolling out the side of its mouth. The single tuft of white hair on its skeletal head contributed to its canine Crypt Keeper appearance. Too bad the adoption fair hadn’t taken place on Halloween.

  Ron cleared his throat, searching for a way to get Cara talking. “Sorry we didn’t find a family for this little guy.”

  Cara straightened, her expression somber. “His name is Charlie, after the cartoon character Charlie Brown, who has just about as much hair on his head as this little crestie.”

  “Is he a stray?”

  She shook her head. “Just another victim of the economy, something we're seeing more and more often. His previous owners lost their house and couldn’t afford their pets anymore. They found new owners for their cats, but not for Charlie.”

  He hated seeing the sadness on Cara’s face. Sticking his hands in his pants’ pockets to keep from reaching for her, Ron offered, “Maybe if you could cure Charlie’s mange...give him some doggie Rogaine or something?”