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Daydreams

Page 15

by Marcia Lynn McClure


  “Sure,” Reese said as Meagan hopped up and left the table.

  He felt guilty for being so relieved that she was gone. Now he could spy on Breck and her friends in private. However, when he looked over to their table, it was to see Breck waving and walking away. He watched as her friends lingered, whispering among themselves and glancing over at him. One of them hopped up and went to the window that overlooked the parking lot. And then, much to his dismay and delight, the four women rose from their table and began walking toward him.

  When they reached his table, it was the skinny blonde who found the nerve to speak first.

  “Um…excuse us. Mr. Thatcher?” the skinny blonde said.

  “Yeah,” Reese said, his curiosity more than piqued.

  “Hi, I’m Sherryl Foster,” the skinny blonde began, “Breck McCall’s friend.”

  “Yes, we’ve met. Did you forget already?” Reese teased.

  “Oh, no. Of course not,” the woman assured him.

  “What can I do for you ladies?”

  The four young women giggled like high school cheerleaders talking to the captain of the football team—their eyes lit up with mischievous excitement.

  “Well,” Sherryl Foster began, “Breck’s birthday is next Friday.”

  “Her twenty-first birthday,” the dark brunette added. “I’m Trixie,” she whispered aside to him.

  “Yes,” Sherryl confirmed, then continued, “and we’ve just come up with the greatest idea for her birthday dinner. And…and…”

  “And we were hoping you’d be willing to help us out,” the lighter brunette finished.

  “Oh, really?” Reese asked.

  “Barb,” the lighter brunette told him. This was getting interesting. He was very intrigued. A surprise for Breck’s birthday with these four chatterboxes involved would certainly be something to behold.

  “Kay,” the other blonde said. She nodded and then continued, “Now, don’t worry. It doesn’t involve a giant cake or you in nothing but a bow tie and your underwear.”

  Reese chuckled. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  “Although,” the darker brunette said to the lighter one, “that would be a nice finale for Breck’s birthday dinner.”

  Reese chuckled as he watched their faces. It seemed they actually considered the idea for a moment—then realized exactly what had been suggested and began shaking their heads in unison.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the skinny blonde said. “A bit over the edge for a public display.”

  “For Breck anyway,” the lighter brunette noted.

  These friends of Breck’s were funny, and it made him wish he could’ve been a fly on the wall when Breck had been with them at lunch.

  “What is your plan, ladies?” Reese asked. He grinned, amused at the way they all looked one to the other in such a mischievous, conspiratorial manner.

  “Well, Mr. Reese Thatcher,” the dark brunette began, “Kay here is a fabulous seamstress.”

  *

  Thirty minutes later, Reese Thatcher sat in his pickup in Marcelli’s parking lot. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to be involved in such a mess! For a moment he felt sorry for Breck. The attention would, no doubt, mortify her. Still, a girl who wore pumpkin-themed sweaters every day in October and owned friends who would concoct such a scheme—there was definitely more to Breck McCall than met the eye. Of course, he’d suspected that from the moment he’d hired her.

  Still, he wondered what on earth had gotten into him. Shaking his head, he turned the key in the ignition. It was about time he did something fun—something to take his mind off the ghosts in his past, the muck he was knee-deep in at work. Pumpkin sweaters—that gave him another idea. Picking up his cell, he dialed and waited for an answer at the other end.

  “Hi, Mom,” he greeted. “I need a favor.”

  *

  Her lunch with the girls had completely revitalized Breck. Back at work and sitting at her desk once more, she felt refreshed and not so resentful about the condition of the world. She wished she could meet the girls more often, but at least she had dinner next Friday with them to look forward to. She smiled, knowing they’d make her twenty-first birthday dinner at Marcelli’s a memorable one indeed. She suspected they had something wild up their sleeves, and it would be hard to wait over a week to find out what it was.

  “Seems like you’ve got a good group of friends there, Breck,” Reese Thatcher said as he approached her desk.

  Breck felt herself blush. It had been so startling to see him at Marcelli’s—so irritating to see him with that woman—so frightening to sit and wonder what her friends might say when they met him. Her emotions were in turmoil. Not to mention he looked particularly handsome at that moment. Lunch at Marcelli’s seemed to agree with just about anybody.

  “Yeah. They’re a bunch of fun,” she said.

  “They certainly seem to be,” he said, smiling. Breck blushed, flustered—wondering what else he’d witnessed of her luncheon at Marcelli’s.

  He turned to walk into his office but paused and looked back at her.

  Pointing an index finger at her, he said, “Did I tell you, ‘Nice pumpkin sweater,’ yet today?”

  Breck smiled at his teasing manner. “Yes, sir. You did.”

  He winked at her and closed his office door behind him.

  He seemed oddly relaxed, Breck mused. But the smile left her face when she began to wonder if it were simply lunch at Marcelli’s that had given him a lift. Or was it the woman—rather, the hoochie—he’d been lunching with?

  My everlasting admiration, gratitude and love…

  To my husband, Kevin…

  My inspiration…

  My heart’s desire…

  The man of my every dream!

  About the Author

  Marcia Lynn McClure’s intoxicating succession of novels, novellas, and e-books—including The Visions of Ransom Lake, A Crimson Frost, The Rogue Knight, and The Pirate Ruse—has established her as one of the most favored and engaging authors of true romance. Her unprecedented forte in weaving captivating stories of western, medieval, regency, and contemporary amour void of brusque intimacy has earned her the title “The Queen of Kissing.”

  Marcia, who was born in Albuquerque, New Mexico, has spent her life intrigued with people, history, love, and romance. A wife, mother, grandmother, family historian, poet, and author, Marcia Lynn McClure spins her tales of splendor for the sake of offering respite through the beauty, mirth, and delight of a worthwhile and wonderful story.

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine

  A Better Reason to Fall in Love

  The Bewitching of Amoretta Ipswich

  Born for Thorton’s Sake

  The Chimney Sweep Charm

  A Crimson Frost

  Daydreams

  Desert Fire

  Divine Deception

  Dusty Britches

  The Fragrance of her Name

  The Haunting of Autumn Lake

  The Heavenly Surrender

  The Highwayman of Tanglewood

  Kiss in the Dark

  Kissing Cousins

  The Light of the Lovers’ Moon

  Love Me

  The McCall Trilogy

  Midnight Masquerade

  An Old-Fashioned Romance

  One Classic Latin Lover, Please

  The Pirate Ruse

  The Prairie Prince

  The Rogue Knight

  Romantic Vignettes-The Anthology of Premiere Novellas

  Saphyre Snow

  Shackles of Honor

  Sudden Storms

  Sweet Cherry Ray

  Take a Walk With Me

  The Tide of the Mermaid Tears

  The Time of Aspen Falls

  To Echo the Past

  The Touch of Sage

  The Trove of the Passion Room

  Untethered

  The Visions of Ransom Lake

  Weathered Too Young

  The Whispered K
iss

  The Windswept Flame

 

 

 


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