by Dee Burks
Chapter 1
“He actually said you need a man with a leopard skin loincloth?” Nolea Brown stood in Serena Finley’s office peering over her bright red frames. “Is that some kind of psycho babble reference to the fact that he’s boring as hell?”
“I guess.” Serena tapped a pen on her desk. “He said I needed a Tarzan type that took direction well and preferably didn’t speak English.”
Nolea flipped her long dark curls and grinned. “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad.”
Serena ignored her. “He said I wear him out.”
“As in—great in bed?” Nolea’s eyebrows popped up.
“As in high maintenance and hot tempered.”
“So let me get this straight,” she made finger quotes in the air, “Doctor Jeffery Scott is looking for a butt ugly woman with zero personality, no skills, and no goals, right?” She leaned forward. “Do those even exist anymore?”
“Not that I know of. I think he hates the competition. He may have to start cruising the feed stores and bait shops to find some babe with overalls and a crew cut. That might suit him.” Serena gazed out the glass that separated her office from the newsroom.
She had always been on guard with Jeffery, never able to relax, be herself. He’d spent every minute they were together trying to analyze her, assign reasons for her actions and attitudes, as if she were his pet project.
Serena had never wanted to reveal that much of herself to anyone, but some of his comments still rattled around in her head, eating away at her confidence. “I mean, I will admit that I try to look decent, but I am not hot tempered. Am I?”
Nolea cleared her throat and glanced away. “I wouldn’t say that—exactly.”
“What would you say, exactly?”
“You just like things your own way, which is fine. At least you know what you want, and what you don’t.” She paused, then shrugged at Serena’s frown. “It’s a redhead thing; he should know that, and you were sick of him anyway. I’m glad you finally got it over with.”
“Me too. I’m more relieved than anything I guess.”
“Which cemetery did you pick him up at anyway?”
“He came highly recommended by the infamous Aunt Macy.”
Nolea snorted. “Well, no wonder. What is her deal anyway? Every time she comes around here she’s got some dreaded disease.”
“It’s just the way she is, part hypochondriac, part cupid. She means well, though. She just doesn’t want me to be alone when Justin leaves for college.”
“I can’t believe how fast he’s grown up.”
“He graduates in two months.” Serena couldn’t bear to think of him as a grownup. Justin had always been with her. Through the good and the bad. At the end of the summer, she’d be completely alone for the first time in her life. She’d refused to think how things would be after he left, instead concentrating on getting him into a good school, planning the finances, and being sure he was ready. But was she?
“Makes me feel old,” Nolea said.
“Thirty-five is not old. You’re the same age as me.”
“Yeah, and the only thing I’ve been able to raise is my boobs, courtesy of contestant number three.” Nolea stood and stretched her shirt across her chest. “One of the better parting gifts I ever received from a man.”
And she had received a lot. The woman attracted men in droves, and they all showered her with gifts and marriage proposals. It dumbfounded Serena and annoyed her at the same time. She considered herself above average in looks, but compared to Nolea she felt like a twinkle light in the shadow of a neon sign. “Why can’t I ever get that?” She mumbled.
“You want better boobs? I can get you my plastic surgeon’s number.”
“No.” Serena glared. “Why can’t I get fabulous parting gifts? Or even a guy worth talking to for five minutes?”
Nolea plopped her hands on her hips. “You want the truth, or you want me to tell you the same old crap?”
“The truth.” Serena blew out a breath.
“It’s your attitude.”
“What attitude?”
“That, ‘if you come within a foot of me I’ll cut your dick off’ attitude. You have to let the past go, Serena.”
“I do not have an attitude, and I certainly don’t have that attitude.”
“Do.”
“Do not.”
“Do.”
“And the past is not the issue here.”
“It’s always the issue. So you made a mistake. You were a teenager for God’s sake. You’ve spent the last eighteen years raising a fabulous kid. It’s time to move on already. Men are not the enemy.”
Easy for her to say. Nolea divorced every mistake she’d made; Serena’s life was never that simple. “I am moving on. I got rid of Jeffery didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did and I’m proud of you.” Nolea flashed a grin, showing perfect white teeth framed by hot red lipstick. “So what’s next? Are you off to the happy hour jungle in search of Leonard Loincloth?”
“Very funny. Although it might make another good fluffy piece of reading for our Lifestyles section.” She held up the morning edition of the Cranfield Reporter-Star that the copy editor had placed on her desk. “I can see it now: ‘How to Find Tarzan, and Still Remain Sane.’”
“You may have an idea there. Every woman wants to be Jane.”
“I said, sane not Jane, and the two don’t necessarily go together.” She shook a finger at Nolea. “And don’t you go giving Uncle Frank any ideas about having me write more fluffy crap.”
“Are we going to go through that again?” Nolea sank into the chair in front of Serena’s desk and propped her four-inch heels on the edge. “You do a great job on the Lifestyle section and you know our female reader base has really expanded. I can’t figure out why you fight it. Your uncle is very proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“Not proud enough to let me cover any real stories or, heaven forbid, political issues.”
Nolea grabbed the paper and scanned the front page. “Oh yes, here’s a story worth covering. A man in San Antonio is being sought for bilking women out of more than $200,000 in an investment scheme. Said one woman, ‘He promised we’d marry after I turned over my money.’” Nolea tossed the paper down in disgust. “Now do you really want to have to do that kind of reporting on the scum of the earth?”
“No, but I would like to write about important issues, things that can help people move forward with their lives.” Serena had fantasized for years about working for a national publication, one that made a real impact.
She’d intended for her job here to be a stepping stone to bigger publications and eventually New York. But life had gotten in the way of that dream. Raising her son had become her number one priority during the last 18 years, and she’d done her best, but now it was her turn to chase that long setaside goal, and no one in New York would be impressed with her latest article on geraniums. “I wouldn’t even mind being editor of this section if he realized women do more than putter around their gardens and worry about what style is ‘in’ this year.”
“There’s that attitude again. I hate to break it to you, sweetie, but many women love to garden, and I, for one, always wonder what is ‘in.’ Women spend money, and our advertisers know that.” She tapped two perfectly manicured nails together. “Hmm. That reminds me. We need to start coordinating the advertising for the bridal season.”
Serena moaned. “I hate bridal season. It’s like sending a vampire to a garlic festival.”
Nolea hopped up. “Oh, it’s not so bad. I should know. I’ve been a bride four times in ten years.” She strolled to the door and leaned against the jamb, striking a provocative p
ose. “And I’ve become very adept at sucking every drop of cash from my victims, not to mention receiving a variety of great perks.” She patted her chest.
“How is it that you get all the perks, and I get all the jerks?”
Nolea arched a brow. “Faulty selection process I’d say. Men are to be conquered, not put up with.”
Harsh, but probably true. Serena had never been able to climb the first bunny hill of love, let alone plant her flag on top of the mountain.
“You have to look at the whole thing as a challenge. You should do what I did after my first divorce. Get a few sexy negligees and try them out on some unsuspecting guy just for fun. You might be surprised at the reaction.”
A voice outside the door chimed in. “Where does someone as old as you get anything sexy to wear? Victoria’s Catacomb?”
Nolea glanced behind her. “Back off, Skippy, or I’ll drive the heel of my shoe through your heart.” She waved to Serena and disappeared down the hall.
Will Mason grinned and glance at Serena, “Hey there, Captain Old Maid. I hear the latest contender bit the dust.”
“Already?”
“Small office. So, who’s the next victim to be drawn into your lair?”
“There is no ‘next victim.’ And at least I have a lair and don’t live with my mother.”
Will feigned offense. “My mother happens to love me. Besides, she does laundry and cooks for free.”
“It doesn’t bother her that her son is a thirty-year-old broke troll?”
“Twenty-nine and nope. She knows I’m saving up for the right girl.”
“Saving up? Like you’re going to order the right girl off the Internet or something?”
“Maybe.” He rubbed the top of his cleanly shaved head. “I’ll have you know that there are women on this earth who would suck face with a toad for cash, and we both know one.” He jutted a finger toward Nolea’s office. “I figure if I live with Mom for the next six years or so I’ll be set. Then Nolea will regret not giving me a chance and fall at my feet begging for a date.”
“Bet not.”
“You’ll see. I’ll wear her down, eventually.” Will’s dogged determination in his pursuit of Nolea was admirable, but hopeless. Both women viewed him as the lovable little bother type, not any kind of serious love interest.
“Well if you’re that determined, then take my advice and ignore her for a while.”
“Ignore the love of my life?” He feigned disbelief.
“Absolutely. Play hard to get.”
He snorted. “Like she’d even notice.”
Frank Walker breezed into Serena’s office. He wore the official uniform of all old school newspaper men: white shirt, dark suit, red tie with the knot pulled down a few inches and sporting the required coffee stain. “Morning, sweetheart.”
Serena stood, allowing him his routine peck on her forehead. “Hey, Uncle Frank. How are you?”
“Great, and you will be too in a few minutes.”
Nolea slid into the room behind Frank and gave Serena a helpless shrug.
It immediately put Serena on guard. Uncle Frank regularly had ideas to increase circulation, advertising, and market share for his newspaper. Trouble was, Serena usually ended up doing the work to pull it all together.
“I’ve come up with the perfect plan to kick off this year’s bridal season,” Frank announced.
Serena held her breath.
“You will write a series of articles about how to find the right person to spend the rest of your life with.” He paced around the small office intent on his mission. “With all the mush and romance you can pack in. The advertisers will love it!”
“What?” Serena’s chest tightened. She wouldn’t even know where to start. She’d had very few relationships and certainly had never experienced anything that approached “the right one.”
“Her?” Will cackled. “She can’t even get a Mr. Right Now!”
Serena glared at Will, annoyed that he’d voiced her thoughts.
“I’ve taken that into consideration, and I have a plan. Oh, and I’m sorry about Jeffery, dear. I never liked him anyway. Too stuffy for you.”
Great. The gossip wagon had even stopped at the editor-in-chief’s office this morning. Serena cringed with the knowledge that every person she passed in the hall this morning was probably hanging out by the water cooler right now talking about her love life or lack thereof.
She mentally braced herself, dreading the revelation of “the plan.” The last plan Uncle Frank devised resulted in her wearing a chicken suit at a parking lot of a car dealership for four hours in 100-degree heat. Somehow she had a feeling this would be much worse.
“You know how we have the personal ad section on our website we’ve been trying to promote as the place to find your mate?”
Serena nodded.
“Well, you are going to try it out. Each date could be the beginning of a lifetime of love.”
“Oh, noooo.” Serena dropped her head in her hands.
“Oh, yes,” Frank grinned. “It was your idea to put our resources into going virtual. Print is dead for news, you said, if I remember correctly.”
Yes, she had said that in a fit of frustration, and Frank had listened. She understood that more and more people didn’t want to wait for a print edition to get the news, and she’d been right. As print subscribers dropped off, their online subscriptions had boomed. But dating complete strangers was another thing. She could tell by Frank’s tone he was serious.
“You want me to go out with these losers? What if I get an ax murderer?” she argued.
“They’re lonely not losers, and customers not ax murderers. We’ll send a staff member along for protection. Say young Will here.” Frank popped Will in the arm. “He’ll observe at a distance, take a few photos, maybe. It could be quite a boost to our revenue.”
“Photos? You’re increasing revenue by pimping out your editors?”
“Nothing so dramatic, Serena,” Nolea piped up. “It might be a lot of fun. Think about it, the first article could be about meeting in a coffee shop. There are three that are on the verge of signing advertising contracts. Then the next segment could be a romantic dinner at an Italian restaurant.”
“One that’s planning to advertise with us as well?”
“Well,” Nolea hesitated, “More like one that’s thinking about cutting his annual advertising in half, and this might make all the difference.”
“Not to mention the fact that it would really beef up the personals section, which you know has a great margin for us,” Frank added. “C’mon kid, what’d you say?”
“This isn’t reporting, it’s fantasy.” And not one she wanted any part of.
Nolea frowned. “We’re doing it as a special advertising section, not a news feature, and it will only run for a few weeks.”
“Absolutely.” Frank always carried a newspaper and now he rolled and unrolled it in his hands. “We’ll call it “Lone Star Love Affair.” What do you think?”
It’s absolute crap. Drivel. A complete and total waste of my time, energy, and talent. New York seemed farther away than ever right now. They all three leaned toward her, waiting on a response. “And if I say no?”
Nolea tugged at one of her long curls. “Well, we thought you might be a little hesitant, so I already called a few for you that looked promising and left your number.”
“You what?” She narrowed her eyes at Nolea. “You knew about this, and sat here chatting this morning and didn’t say a word? Were you trying to soften me up?”
“That’s one way to look at it, but it really could be fun if you would just go with it.” Nolea scooted out of the room, not giving her the chance to argue.
“Your Aunt Macy thought these sounded pretty safe.”
Serena stared at her Uncle. “Aunt Macy? Is she the real reason I was chosen for this little adventure?” Aunt Macy had made it her personal crusade the past two years to find Serena a man. The only good thing about having Je
ffery around was the fact that Macy had backed off her quest. Now it seemed she was at it hard and fast once again.
“Oh, no. Well, not really.” He stammered. “It’s a great idea for the paper, but you know how things are these days. You can’t ask an ordinary staff member to go on company-sponsored dates, but you’re family, and I know you always put the good of the company first like I do. The fact that it will get you back out there again makes it a win-win for everyone.” He smiled and patted her arm. “Let me know how things go!”
The minute Frank was out of earshot, Will let out a huge peal of laughter. “Dust off your cape, Captain Old Maid. Love is in the air.”
“Hey, you have to tag along too and protect me.”
“Of course. You know I’d never miss a meal on the company dime. Besides, I can’t wait to see the love-starved loser parade.” He winked at her and left.
So this is what her love life had come to. Play-by-play of her inability to relate to the lowest level of man on the planet, all while being chaperoned by the company leprechaun. It would almost be funny—if it were someone else.
The phone on her desk rang. Serena yanked it off the hook. “What?”
“Bad morning?”
Her son’s voice soothed her a bit. At least Justin had no desire to get his mother hitched. Last night when she’d shared the fact that Jeffery was history, he’d done his touchdown victory dance, followed by a loud “Whoopee, we’s free” yell.
“Yeah, kind of. What’s up?”
“I was going over to Terry’s after school to watch the game if that’s okay.”
“Sure that’s fine.”
“And there’re some messages on the machine. Did you put in that ad to rent out Jacie’s room?”
“Not exactly, but I’ll do that today.”
“Okay. See ya mom.”
“See ya kid.” Serena chewed on her bottom lip and stared out her window. She’d meant to place that ad for the last few months but hadn’t. Jacie, the copy editor’s niece, had rented their extra room for four years while she attended college. The money helped fluff up Justin’s education fund. Serena wanted to have him to herself the last few months before he left for school, but now it was time to start looking for additional income. Not that her salary at the paper was bad, but Cranfield, Texas, was not a large market, and college tuition presented a daunting financial concern for a single parent. She had to be sure the money would be there if they needed it.
