Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  Cole anxiously checks his watch as we slowly make our way toward the Lincoln Tunnel. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?” he asks nervously.

  “Babe, relax. I know exactly where we’re going. It would have been so much easier if you let me drive, though.”

  “Don’t start,” he exasperates.

  The minute we pay the toll and enter the tunnel, a calm washes over me. I’m almost home. I haven’t lived here for over six months, and I swore I would never return, but now that I’m here, I can’t wait to explore. The city is constantly changing and there’s always something new to discover.

  At the end of the tunnel, I can see light shining like a beacon, beckoning us onward. Once we make it through, the towering expanse of the city takes my breath away. Beeping horns, speeding taxis, and flashing lights signal our arrival.

  Our destination is the headquarters of Sports Illustrated in the heart of Manhattan, located in the Time-Life Building. It’s a huge fifty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, with TIME & LIFE emblazoned on the sculpture just outside the front doors. It’s a quarter to ten when we arrive, walking into the enormous— and frankly intimidating— glass, steel, and white marble lobby.

  Behind the solid marble desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at us. She’s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.

  “I have an appointment for a photo shoot today. Cole McGuire.”

  “Of course. Excuse me one moment please.” She checks through her list and smiles when she locates Cole. “Mr. McGuire is expected. Please sign in here. You’ll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor.” She smiles kindly at us and returns to her attention to the ringing phone on her desk.

  We walk over to the bank of elevators and past the two security men who are standing guard in their well-cut black suits. The elevator whisks us at terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and we’re in another large lobby— again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. We’re greeted by another desk of marble, this time occupied by a young, handsome man dressed smartly in a shirt and tie.

  “Mr. McGuire, welcome back. Please make yourself comfortable,” he points to a seated area of black leather chairs. “Can I get you anything while you wait?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  Behind the leather chairs is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Manhattan skyline that looks out through the city toward Rockefeller Center. It’s a stunning vista, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the view.

  “Do you think Evan is here yet?” I ask, wondering if we’re either extremely early or terribly late.

  “Probably. Evan’s usually the first one to arrive and the last one to leave.”

  Another young man with a clipboard comes out to greet us. “Mr. McGuire?”

  Cole stands up and stretches out his hand. “That would be me.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Corey and I’ll be your attendant for the day. I’ve been asked to come collect you and take you to wardrobe. The team messengered your uniform, so we’re going to start with that. Then I’ll be bringing you to makeup and then finally to the studio. Ready?”

  Cole turns to check in with me before he slips away. “Are you going to be okay while I’m gone?” he asks. “I could ask if you could join us if you’d prefer. I hate to leave you sitting here while I go off to play.”

  I tap on my trusty MacBook. “Nope. I’ll be just fine. I’m going to finish writing that chapter I started the other day. This view up here is really inspiring. Take your time.”

  Corey smiles and adds, “If you need anything, just let Miles know. Coffee, tea, water, a light snack – you name it.”

  The young man behind the counter looks up and grins. He must be Miles.

  They sweep Cole away to parts unknown, leaving me to my work. I reread what I’ve done so far, make a few revisions, and jump right in. I dig deep and pull from my life experience as I write the lover’s fight scene. Long suppressed emotions left over from Trent the Tool come rushing back, making writing this a very easy task.

  I find myself quickly wrapped up in feelings of anger, pain, and suffering like an old, familiar blanket. I’m proud of my heart. It’s been played, stabbed, cheated, burned, and broken but somehow it still works.

  After an hour or so, Miles appears with a glass of lemon water, which I gladly accept. I decide to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. I stop by the desk and tell Miles where I’m going just in case Cole comes looking for me. He lets me stow my laptop behind his desk.

  I step outside and glance at the building directly across the street. It, too, is owned by Time-Life. But it has one very special tenant – Breakaway Publishing Group. Somewhere on the seventeenth floor of that building is Gail Walters. She’s probably sitting behind her desk reading a manuscript at this very moment.

  A sense of longing washes over me. I used to report to that building once a week with additions and revisions of a manuscript for Gail. I knew all the receptionists’ names and they knew me. Gail and I would enjoy a leisurely lunch with the occasional cocktail. Neither one of us ever really worked on the clock and could stay as long as we like.

  Now, I live and die by the clock. It’s funny how time and distance change everything. But the heart never forgets.

  Another familiar site is the Nuts 4 Nuts cart parked right on the corner. I cannot resist the completely intoxicating smell. I buy a bag of mixed nuts with candied coconut, almonds, and cashews. As always, they are hard, warm, and crunchy goodness.

  I find a quiet spot to make a quick phone call. While I’m here in the city, I’d like to call in a favor and do something nice for Cole.

  With my plans firmly set in place and my special treat in hand, I head back up to waiting area. Miles smiles warmly when he sees me. “Did I miss anything?” I ask.

  “No, it’s been pretty quiet.” When he hands me my laptop, he spots the small bag of treats in my hand. “I see you found the food stand outside. Did you check your change? You can’t be too careful.”

  “I always pay with exact change. I learned it the hard way freshman year.”

  His eyes light up. “Where did you go to school? F.I.T.? Pace?”

  “Wow – no one has ever accused me of going to the Fashion Institute of Technology before. Thank you.”

  It turns out that Miles is a full time administrative assistant and a part time actor with a degree from Pace University.

  I return to my spot near the window and return to my task when suddenly the door swings open and Cole bursts in. I nearly fall off my chair when I see him. I’ve never seen Cole in a suit before. The night we first met was at a wedding, and even then he’d worn linen pants and shirt.

  The European suit they dressed him in is bold blue to match his eyes, and cut tight to mold to his body. With his unruly hair, sensual mouth, and powerful aura, he sucks all the air from the room. No man should look that good dressed. It isn’t fair.

  The jacket is undone, and he’s running his hand through his hair. He’s agitated, tense even. Oh no— what’s wrong? Agitated or not, he’s still a fine sight. He closes the distance between us and my heart is racing. How can he still affect me this strongly? We haven’t even touched.

  “Do you believe this?” he gripes. “First they have the two of us in uniform. Then they put us both in white T-shirts and jeans. And now this. I look ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculously hot,” I correct him.

  “Listen, I just wanted to check and make sure you’re alright. Are they taking care of you while I play dress up in someone else’s clothes?”

  “I’m fine. Go finish this thing. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.”

  Cole looks at me, trying to ascertain my honesty.

  “Go,” I repeat. “I’m fine. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can get out of here.”

  Cole reluctantly agrees and slips bac
k behind closed doors, leaving me alone with my book.

  Another hour goes by and my second chapter is complete. Suzi and her friends are safely transported to Miami where they are about to meet Henry who plays guitar in a cover band while he works on his musical screenplay. I have so many ideas bubbling over, I can hardly wait to write the next scene.

  “Excuse me, Miss Harper,” Miles interrupts.

  “Kenny,” I correct him.

  “Sorry. Kenny, Mr. McGuire . . . I mean Cole . . . asked me to tell you he’s wrapping up and should be out in a few minutes. Is there anything else I can get for you before you leave today?”

  I thank him for his company and begin to tidy up my mess. Miles collects my water glass and I find a trashcan for my now empty bag of snacks. I pack my laptop in my bag just as Cole and Evan come waltzing through the door for the last time today, laughing together. One look at the two of them, and I have no question as to why they were chosen for the cover.

  It’s time to reclaim my man and have some fun.

  CHAPTER 22

  THE ELEVATOR ARRIVES ON THE FIRST FLOOR, and Cole and I slip through the revolving door and out onto the bustling city sidewalk. I take one final look at the building across the street where I was once a regularly welcomed visitor.

  “I’m starving,” Cole immediately declares. “I haven’t eaten in hours. Is there somewhere around here where we could grab a sandwich?”

  I laugh. “Babe – we’re two blocks from Rockefeller Center. This place is crawling with restaurants. Come on,” I grab his hand and drag him around the corner. “I know just the place.”

  We walk the short distance, only four blocks down and one block over, and head right to Rockefeller Center. It feels so good and natural to be walking hand-in-hand with Cole. All my worries and all my fears seem to have dissolved. I feel safe and protected with him, no matter where we are.

  Feeling slightly possessive, I release his hand and slide my arm around his waist. I slip my thumb into one of the belt loops of his jeans and let my hand rest on his firm backside. He snakes his long arm around my waist and together we walk in tandem down the busy city street.

  The thing that I love the most about Manhattan is that we completely disappear into the crowd. No matter how tall Cole may be, there’s always someone taller. As good looking as he may be, there’s someone near by even more handsome. And the huge number of couples walking arm-in-arm towards the largest tourist attraction helps us blend in virtually unnoticed.

  It’s like the ultimate Where’s Waldo picture, but neither one of us is wearing a red striped shirt.

  As we get closer to the iconic world flag display flanking the ice rink, Cole’s face lights up. Cole plays the role of starry-eyed tourist and I get to play tour guide as we stand over the rink and admire the view. The outdoor skating rink has been turned into the Rock Center Cafe, a relaxing outdoor cafe with the soothing sounds of the Prometheus fountain and energy of the outdoor bar scene.

  He places his hand under my chin and lifts my face up towards his as he smiles down at me. I step up onto my tiptoes and place a soft kiss on his lips. He holds me there for a lingering moment and whispers, “Thank you.”

  I grab his hand and tug. “Come on, Stretch, let’s go.” I guide him down the stairs that lead to the lower concourse level. We pass by the rows and rows of tables, about half of which have large yellow umbrellas for shade from the hot July sun. But rather than check in at the hostess station, I direct him away and down a corridor that leads to an entire underground network of eateries and shops.

  “Where are we going?” he asks.

  “You said you wanted a good sandwich for lunch, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Perfect. When I worked as a writer with Breakaway Publishing, I would come here all the time. It’s called ‘wichcraft and it’s owned by Tom Colicchio.”

  “Why do I know that name?” Cole wonders.

  “He’s one of the judges on Top Chef,” I remind him.

  “Oh, great. Another reality show I can look forward to being forced to watch.” He stops walking and tilts his head down at me, confused. “Wait a minute – do you actually watch that show?”

  “Um, yeah. I love it. Why?”

  “Because you can’t cook.”

  “So what. That has nothing to do with anything. Do you like to watch Paranormal Investigations?”

  “Yeah. And, what’s your point?”

  “You’re not a ghost hunter.”

  “Maybe not, but I live in a house. And sometimes I hear loud noises that I can’t explain.”

  “Well, I eat food all the time and I like to know what I’m eating. So there!” I stick out my tongue and blow raspberries at him like a petulant child.

  He just laughs out loud, pulls me closer, and kisses me hard.

  My head is spinning when he releases me. Somehow, I manage to guide us into the small sandwich shop. It’s much more quiet than out on the concourse – one of the things that I like about it.

  We wait on line to order at the counter cafeteria style. Having been here many times before, I know right away that I want to order the grilled cheese with gruyere and caramelized onions on rye bread. Cole has his heart set on the Cuban-style pork & ham sandwich. It doesn’t take much to convince him to order the fresh made house brand potato chips.

  The only available table is right near the door. Despite my best efforts, I just can’t sit with my back to the door. So I relegate that seat to Cole and sit across from him, keeping a watchful eye on the entrance.

  It’s quiet for a Tuesday and I’m hopeful the wait won’t be terribly long. If we get our food in the next ten to fifteen minutes, I’ll consider it a success.

  Suddenly, the door swings open and in walks Gina, one of the secretaries at Breakaway Publishing. There’s no time to duck and hide, she spots me immediately. With a shriek and a start, she bum rushes me. “Oh-my-God, oh-my-God, oh-my-God!” She squeezes me with all she’s got. “Kenny! I thought I was never going to see you again. You look ah-mazing. What are you doing here? Are you here to see Gail? You totally have to stop by and see Gail. She’ll kill me if I don’t drag you down there this very minute. We were just talking about you. This is sooo crazy. I can’t believe you’re here!”

  Notice I haven’t said a word? I couldn’t get one word in edgewise, even if I tried.

  Gina must have noticed too, because she suddenly goes quiet. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re here with someone.” She quickly appraises Cole and smirks. “Who do we have here?”

  “Gina, this is Cole. Cole, this is Gina, she works at my old publisher’s office. She is my literary agent’s secretary.”

  She shakes Cole’s hand and stares into his eyes. “It’s very nice to meet you, Cole.” I watch with a little humor as she tosses her shoulders back and squeezes his hand flirtatiously. “Oh, you have a great handshake,” she raves.

  “Thank you, Gina. If you have a minute, why don’t you join us?”

  “Oh, thanks. I’d love to.” She takes a seat at the end of our table. Turning to me, she asks, “So tell me, what brings you here? And please tell me you’re going to stop by the office to see Gail.”

  This is the second time she’s pronounced her determination to get me to stop by. I hesitate to answer, unsure how to reject her persuasive offering.

  Cole notices my apprehension and jumps in. “I had an appointment for a photo shoot this morning. So I dragged Kenny along. And now she’s showing me some of her favorite haunts.”

  “Oh, are you a model? You could totally be one. I’d buy whatever you were selling, that’s for sure.”

  “No, I’m definitely not a model. It’s just for work. My boss likes to keep the company name out there,” Cole explains without giving away too much.

  “Really?” Again, her eyes rake up and down his frame. “Who do you work for? You look so familiar.”

  “The New Jersey Red Hawks,” he answers very matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, that’s
it. I must have seen you on television. Too bad I don’t watch hockey. Maybe I would have recognized you right away.”

  Neither one of us bothers to correct her.

  Turning back to me, she asks, “So what happened to Trent the Troll?”

  “He disappeared from a cruise ship,” I tell her without missing a beat, which makes Cole laugh out loud.

  “Oh, my God? Seriously?” she asks.

  “No idea,” I tell her. “But a girl can dream.”

  “Ahh.” Gina nods her head in agreement. “He was such a poser. I don’t know what you ever saw in him. Ooh – do you remember Heather?”

  I nod, vaguely aware of exactly whom she’s talking about.

  “She just got a divorce. She caught her husband screwing around with the dog walker. Can you believe it?”

  While we wait for our meal to arrive, the chatty Gina continues to fill me in on all the births, marriages, engagements, and promotions for everyone at work. Some she is happy about, others not so much.

  But I have to hand it to Cole. He sits and listens, feigning interest and grunting in agreement often enough to appear engaged.

  “So what is Gail up to? Who’s her main focus right now?”

  “She’s grooming Lauryn Braun to replace you. But to be honest, it’s not going well. Her books just aren’t selling the way yours have.” She leans in and speaks in hushed tones, careful not to be overheard. “Personally, I don’t like her. And I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.”

  Suddenly her face lights up. “Oh, my God – I just had the best idea. Wouldn’t it be great if you wrote another book? Gail and I were just talking about how none of her new writers can hold a candle to you. It would be so amazing if they didn’t have to. Only you can outsell you.”

  Cole and I look at her, trying to unravel her riddle.

  “Oh, you know what I mean.”