by Koko Brown
“What if I’m not quite there yet?” She stumbled over the words, but she needed to be real with him.
“Only a matter of time.” A smile curled his lips. “And trust me you’re going to fall hard.”
“I see,” she said, amazed the words came out at all. His bold proclamation made her head spin, and her heart thumped so hard she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.
“Now get this through your hard head of yours.” His hands cupped her face. “I want you and everything that comes with it. I’m whole because of you, Shoshana Haufman. I ain’t going nowhere.”
He looked at her with eyes so filled with love she knew he’d move mountains for her. And when he kissed her, she finally opened her heart.
EPILOGUE
Five months later
“One more stroke and we’re done.”
“Hurry up!” her father grumbled. He sat stationary on the edge of the tub while Patrick ran the razor over his jaw. “I hate being babied.”
“You love it.” Patrick poured a scented aftershave in his hands then patted her father’s cheeks. He’d moved in two months ago, and the playful back and forth had become their modus operandi along with a daily shave. It was a necessary evil. Six weeks into his clinical trial with an experimental Alzheimer’s drug, her father had developed a slight tremor in his hands.
Her father slapped Patrick’s hands aside as he stood. “Where are we eating tonight?”
Patrick’s loving gaze followed her father from the bathroom. “Fisherman’s Wharf,” he replied in a surprisingly even tone considering he’d answered the same question three times in the past hour. Another reason for withdrawing him from the trial. It hadn’t slowed down his memory loss.
Still, they hadn’t abandoned the clinic’s services. There would be more trials and possibly a cure. But most importantly, she’d gained a support group for caregivers.
Hanging out near the doorway, Shoshana slid into Patrick’s arms as soon as he emerged, loving it when he folded her into a hug. Her father ambled over to the bed where she’d laid out a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt.
“Nervous about tonight?” she asked.
“Nervous about seeing my estranged father for the first time in twenty-two years? Nah. Tonight’s going to be a piece of cake.”
Shoshana reached up to brush a silver lock from his forehead. “You don’t have to do this. We can get back on the train and head back to New York. Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested our families meet.”
“I need to do this.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I want my family to be your family. Like yours is mine. Plus, I owe my father my personal gratitude.”
“How so?”
“He was the one who told me to go after you.”
Shoshana untangled herself. She retreated to the other side of the room and stabbed her feet into a pair of black Minolo’s then grabbed her clutch.
“Where are you going?” he asked when she headed for the door. As she passed, he grabbed her arm, wheeling her around.
“I’m going to be the first to personally shake Eamonn Kelly’s hand.”
Patrick’s blue eyes glittered with amusement. “You’ll be that exuberant?”
“Of course, he gave me the man I love.”
“You love me? You love me!” Puckering up, he planted kisses all over her neck and face.
“Stop or you’re going to mess up my makeup.” Shoshana attempted to wiggle away from him but fell onto the bed.
Sporting a triumphant grin, Patrick fell on top of her.
“Now you’re going to wrinkle my dress and your suit,” she protested.
Not the least bit concerned, he dipped his head and pressed a melting kiss in that sensitive area just beneath her ear.
“Dad, aren’t you going to help me?”
Her father looked up from buttoning his dress shirt. “Why expend the energy? You’re exactly where you want to be.”
Shoshana ceased struggling against Patrick’s kisses.
Noting the change, he perched on his elbows. “What’s wrong?”
Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “My father’s right. I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The End
About the Author
Koko Brown is a quintessential romance junkie, who once read over two hundred Zebra Club novels the summer before her senior year in high school. Bitten by the writing bug at the age of nine, Koko self-published and distributed a newspaper to her fellow classmates. Not liking outside competition, her principal put her out of business after one best-selling issue.
Undaunted, Koko continued to write and read everything she could get her hands on. She honed her writing skills as a staff writer for her college's newspaper and even wrote obituaries for the local newspaper. One day while daydreaming in bed Koko came up with the idea for her first erotic manuscript. In two short weeks, she fleshed out the story, cleaned it up and then sent it to Ellora's Cave. Three months later, she signed a contract for her vampire novel, Charmed.
Koko lives in the great Sunshine State. She loves to travel and shop in thrift stores. Keep up with new releases by signing up for her quarterly eNewsletter: http://tinyurl.com/qh33gsy
STALK ME
TAKE A PEEK AT
The Viking Wants Forever
CHAPTER ONE
Merritt Island, FL
Today was Reese Johnson’s tenth anniversary. For 3,650 days she’d settled for less. Put her dreams on the back burner, while helping someone else build theirs.
What happened to the young dreamer who thirsted for adventure and fantasized of one day becoming a graphic novelist?
Of course, Reese had no immediate plans of leaving her job as the general manager of The Comic League. She just wanted to be properly paid for the blood, sweat and tears she’d poured into making the store the largest independent peddler of comic books and graphic novels in the Southeast.
Armed with all the reasons she deserved a raise, Reese punched in the numbers 2-7-7, which also spelled out A-S-S.
“Ali here,” her employer barked on the other end.
“Mr. Majeed,” even after all these years, Reese didn’t feel comfortable calling him by his first name. “I’m not sure if you knew this, but today’s my ten year anniversary.”
Reese paused, giving him the opportunity to offer his congratulations. There were none, just silence on the other end.
Before she lost her nerve, Reese rushed forward. “I-I’ve worked for you for ten years andand I’d like to think I’ve contributed to building your company from a small flea market stall to a ten thousand square foot megastore. It was even my idea to organize the inaugural So-Con comic convention.”
“So what are you gettin’ at?” he snapped. His high pitch utterances reminded Reese of a Chihuahua.
Reese licked her lips. Fearful and anxious, she was breathing so hard they were starting to chap. “I deserve a raise.”
Boom! She’d done it! Proud of her tenacity, she grinned from ear to ear.
“How much of a raise you talkin’?”
“A three dollar increase.” The boost in pay would sit her squarely at thirty-thousand a year after taxes.
“Three dollars!” Majeed yipped. “Are you outta your flippin’ mind?”
Reese decided to grow a pair. “Not in the least, Mr. Majeed,” she countered. “I’m a valuable asset to your company. Without me, you’d still be pushing comic books out of Remmington Flea Market.” She was being a little over-presumptuous, but her ideas had helped to grow The Comic League into a regional powerhouse.
“You might have a great pair of tits and ass, but those geeks and freaks aren’t coming in for you, Miss Johnson.”
Quite a few were coming in for her, Reese suspected. A few years back, she ran across her fandom, which numbered in the hundreds, in a Girls We’d Cosplay With forum. Of course, Reese would go to her grave before she pointed that out to this cheap misogynist. She wanted a salary increase for her contributions to
The Comic League, not because the customers voted her 36DDs the Mount Olympus of Brevard County.
“The customers value my expert opinion.”
“Yeah…well…unfortunately, I can’t squeeze another penny. With the store revamp and all for the realty show…”
Reese bit the inside of her cheek. She knew all about the renovations. She’d been the one to broker the deal with a local production company to film the pilot, which caught the interest of PixelTV. And, she’d hired the contractor to meet the network’s specifications for filming.
Suddenly lightheaded, and more than a little dejected, Reese hustled off the phone. “I’m not going to take up any more of your time. I need—”
“You’re not going to do something crazy like burn the store down, are you?” he interjected.
Reese imagined the five thousand or so comic books would be a great catalyst for a bonfire of epic proportions. It would serve the selfish bastard right. He hadn’t stepped foot in the store in years, leaving the day-to-day operation in her hands. But she wouldn’t do anything to damage The Comic League. The store was more her baby than his.
Still, she decided to let him crap in his pants. Without answering, Reese disconnected the call then jammed her cell in her jean pocket. As she took a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves, she lifted her gaze to the darkening sky. The sun was quickly setting and gray, angry clouds had started to roll in from the beachside.
“Hey, loser.” Leaning out the store’s automatic door entrance, sporting skinny jeans and a rumpled Atari t-shirt that had seen better days, Allen McNeal her BFF and assistant store manager, wore a lopsided grin. Since she’d left him in the dark regarding her plans to ask for a raise, he was woefully oblivious to her present predicament. Still, it didn’t lessen the sting.
Reese knew she couldn’t fault anyone but herself. Born with a thin skin, she’d settled all her life, passing up more opportunities than a cougar practicing celibacy in Manhattan during Fleet Week. Ever since she could remember, she’d allowed self-doubt to shackle her confidence. In grade school, she consistently gave up her spot in the coveted sandbox for the puke-inducing merry-go-round. Her ninth grade year, she attempted to grow a pair by running for class secretary. Two signatures shy of turning in her nomination, she’d thrown the petition in the garbage when Nugent Mulligan refused to sign it because he didn’t believe in organized government.
College hadn’t been any different. Despite graduating at the top of her class from The Art Institute of Fort Lauderdale and her professors’ full support, she’d returned to her small hometown on the east coast of Florida instead of pursuing her dream job in a larger market.
And now, with no salary hike in sight, she still couldn’t dredge up enough courage to walk away from the security of a 9 to 5.
“You’re ruining your anniversary party,” Allen said, bringing her out of her thoughts. “The donuts are starting to go stale, and—”
“And you can’t start the game without me.” Resigned to her fate, Reese walked back inside.
“You said it not me.” He chuckled as he locked the doors behind her, and then flipped the closed sign.
“But I knew that’s where you were headed.”
Every Saturday night, after the store closed, they settled in to play the role playing game Castles and Keeps. She was rather surprised Allen waited so long to pull her back into the night’s festivities. Their current adventure was pushing into its twelfth week and everyone had been jabbering about it for days.
Allen came up behind her and flung an arm around her shoulders. “Stop pretending you don’t enjoy being Aryan, the fierce Amazon warrior.”
Reese loved the kick-ass fighter who’d managed to remain alive through countless adventures. Through her, she’d been able to be and do what she could not in the real world. Still, she couldn’t shake the fact that role playing was simply another avoidance tactic. On more occasions than she could count, she’d opted to play the game rather than go home and work on her comic series.
Allen walked around the counter and took a seat, joining five other co-workers. Arms folded over an ample beer belly, Otis, stared up at the tray ceiling. Joanie play fought her ogre figurine against Paul’s wizard. Across from them, Melanie and Lawrence argued in Pig Latin.
I am a loser.
Not sensing the sudden change in her demeanor or the way she held back, Allen pulled out a stool for her. “We actually started without you, so the game’s on hold.”
Just like my life. If she sat down, she was simply giving into a lifetime of duplicity.
“What’s wrong? Your seat have cooties?” asked Joanie, her part-time cashier and resident expert on trolls and elves.
Reese braced herself for the meltdown. “I’m not staying, gang. The store’s closed, and I’m beat.”
“Ah! Come on!” Allen objected over a bevy of groans peppered with a healthy dose of four-letter words. “We waited for you and now you’re going to bail?”
“I-I have other plans,” she lied.
“Like a hot date?” Paul, one of her stock boys and probably a regular contributor to her fandom, peeked at her shyly. If his face wasn’t filled with acne scars, he’d be kind of cute.
“A hot date,” Allen guffawed. “The sixth plane of Hell will freeze over before that day comes.”
Reese picked up a donut and hurled it at him -- hitting him squarely in the forehead. “Just because I want a life away from this mortuary doesn’t mean you have to be nasty, Allen. I thought we were besties.”
Allen wiped at the chocolate-flavored sprinkles dotting his forehead. “Well it’s no fun getting ditched either. The least you can do is roll the dice so Otis can kill you off,” he said pointing at a pair of green dice on the counter. “If you skip your turn, you’re putting the entire game on hold.”
He did have a point. Reese stepped forward and swiped up the dice. She shook them vigorously while Allen regaled Otis, the store’s cosplay aficionado and the group’s Castle Keeper, with a dozen gruesome ways to wipe her out of the game.
Of course, Otis didn’t need Allen’s help. His imagination, like the other people hunched over the worn game board, knew no bounds. After some consideration, he set up the scene with her Amazon warrior scouting a rope bridge for booby traps.
“A rolling mist covers the bridge, so we’re unable to see three feet in front of us. Always the brave warrior, Aryan decides to transverse the unknown pathway alone. All goes well until you’re halfway across. The bridge suddenly dips and a battle cry rends the morning silence, echoes off the cliff walls. The mist slowly parts and you find yourself face to face with Skol, a fearsome berserker. What do you do?”
So not fair. Otis had to hit her below the belt with her fetish for the Norse warriors who fought in a trance-like rage. Adrenaline pumping, Reese responded automatically, “I pull my broadsword from my belt, and ready my battle stance.” Right hand in the air, she crouched down. She lowered her other hand, ready to accept her fate.
“Wait!” Otis grabbed her wrist. “You should pray to Loki and ask him to keep his hands out of this. He’s the ultimate God of Mischief, and this is an expedition into the wilds of Norway.”
Reese rolled her eyes. Otis took his role as castle keeper way too seriously. “I’m not praying to Loki or any other phony deity” Reese grabbed onto the counter when a bolt of lightning hit the roof. The howling wind whipped the store’s black awnings against the front windows, the florescent lights flickered overhead, and her Amazon warrior figurine wobbled until it fell flat on its back.
“I think you angered Loki,” Otis whispered. Eyes wide, he let go of her wrist as if burned.
Reese did her best to ignore his superstitious mumbo jumbo, but deep down she had her doubts. After all, she believed in ghosts, reincarnation and love at first sight. Still, her desire to move forward with her life, proved stronger than any misgivings. Once her heroine was set back to rights, she gave the dice another shake. She lowered her hand, preparing t
o release the dice when Melanie wrapped her hand around hers, almost crushing her fingers.
“Wait!” the pint-size expert on Japanese Anime implored. “We can’t let her do this.” Her hazel eyes flitted around the table, looking for support. “We need her! She’s the highest-level fighter we have. Without her, we won’t have a chance against the Vikings.” She turned to Reese and planted her hands on her shoulders. “We’re all brainiacs, but you’re the quickest thinker out of the bunch of us.”
“Reading a plethora of survival guides and twelve years as a Girl Scout tends to do that to you,” Allen quipped. He ducked, barely missing the second donut Reese hurled at his head.
“Are you sure you’re my best friend?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but Melanie’s innocently-worded question beat him to the punch.
“You were a Girl Scout?” she asked, her expression incredulous behind a pair of rhinestone cat glasses.
She hadn’t built a campfire since her sophomore year in high school, but Reese still felt the sting of embarrassment. “I was only in Girl Scouts for nine years,” she stressed, looking pointedly at Allen. “I quit right after I earned my ‘Stick to the Point’ fencing patch.”
“I thought it was a ‘Knee Deep in Horse—’” Allen interjected, but he wasn’t able to finish because Reese hit him in the kisser with another donut. This time a powdered one.
“I quit after earning my fencing badge. Kids” -- she stopped to clear her throat -- “kids can be pretty cruel when they find out you spend your weekends learning how to prevent hypothermia and frostbite instead of scouting out boys in the local mall.”
“I thought I was a dork.” Letting Reese go, Melanie patted at her Betty Page, Brill-cream enhanced hairstyle.
“I wasn’t a dork,” Reese bristled, “just an awkward tomboy who yearned for adventure.” Too bad she didn’t have that same spirit. Maybe she wouldn’t be eyeing thirty, still woefully single and shackled to a job she hated. Well, not anymore. I’m getting out of here!
