“What do you mean, strange?” But just then, Ginnie heard a sound that had her performer’s instincts piqued. The audience was applauding.
“Uh, Todd? I’m sorry, but I have to get back.”
She was already walking, her ears cocked at the unexpected applause. What were the kids applauding? She glanced at her watch. There was still a full minute before question-and-answer time.
This time, she led the way. As she re-entered the auditorium, she glanced at the audience, confused. Then she looked at the stage.
And froze in astonishment.
“Told you he was acting strange,” Todd said from behind her. Ginnie turned, stared at Todd, who looked smug, then looked back at the stage.
Little Jeffrey was on stage. Harry was behind stage?
Her puppet spoke with Harry’s voice. “So, I heard there was a Magic Show competition for Best Magic Trick. Is that here? Am I in the right place?”
The kids yelled back that it was.
“Well then. I have a trick. If it’s not too late…”
The kids yelled back that it wasn’t.
Ginnie felt a little faint and leaned against Todd. “Is that really Harry back there?”
“It’s really Harry,” Todd confirmed with a pat on her shoulder. “And he’s really not himself.”
Ginnie straightened, glancing at Todd, who just grinned.
Little Jeffrey spoke again, with an inappropriately deep voice, but Ginnie didn’t think the kids cared. “Okay then. For my trick, I will pull my own heart out of my chest. And I’ll give it to the woman I love. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”
Shaking her head, tears beginning to form in her eyes, Ginnie murmured, “He isn’t really doing this, is he? Not Harry. He just wouldn’t do this. He hates kids.”
Todd looked from the stage to the audience and shook his head. “Doesn’t look like he hates them to me.”
“Me either,” Ginnie said. She could hardly lift her voice above a whisper. Hope was making her heart slam. Little Jeffrey appeared to be scanning the audience. But then Harry, with showmanship Ginnie hadn’t known he possessed, shouted, “Ready? On the count of three! One!”
The kids counted with him. “Two!”
Ginnie counted with them. “Three!”
Little Jeffrey pulled open his chest and, sure enough, there was a red, plump, gummi-heart. The puppet pulled the heart out and held it aloft. “Ginnie! Where are you? Unless I give you my heart, I’ll die! Ginnie? Where’s Ginnie?”
“Oh no,” Ginnie murmured, though she couldn’t stop smiling. “Harry put in a real-looking heart. The smaller kids might be traumatized by that.”
But they didn’t appear traumatized. Every child in the audience, and all the adults, was hanging on his every word. “Where’s Ginnie?” they howled.
“She’s right here!” Todd shouted. He gave Ginnie a little shove. “What are you waiting for?”
She glared at him, but the sheer happiness that filled her own heart wouldn’t allow in anything but bliss. “Yeah. I’m here!”
Little Jeffrey did a wild dance, and the up-and-down spasmodic gyration made Ginnie and the audience laugh. “Yay! I won’t die! Here’s my heart!”
Ginnie plucked the little heart from Little Jeffrey’s hands. She made a little impromptu curtsey/bow, as the situation seemed to call for it. “Thank you.”
She turned, made another small bow to the audience. Todd jumped in at that point, his deep voice bellowing, “And then the puppet master Ginnie and the puppet Little Jeffrey lived happily ever after!”
She wasn’t prepared for the thunderous applause.
Ginnie was pretty sure she was the only one who heard Harry’s low voice. “I guess they like May/December romances.”
“I guess they do. But Harry…do you like romance?”
“Come here.”
She felt his deep voice all the way in her bones. Her heart thrilled to it, and her stomach fluttered with anticipation. She grinned as she ran around the puppet stage.
Her breath caught when she finally saw him. He’d shaved recently enough that the dark shadow of his stubble hadn’t yet appeared on his jaw, but instead of a crisp business suit like Todd’s he wore faded jeans and a flannel shirt. He gazed at her with a hopeful smile. She’d never seen a more welcome sight.
He opened his arms to receive her. “Ginnie.”
She held herself aloof, teasing. “Harry. Or, is it H. Barrett Sharpe?”
Harry swooped her off her feet, kissing her all over her face. “Yes.”
“Yes is good.”
“Yes is very good.”
“If you two lovebirds can give it a rest, there’s an audience out there waiting for closure. Or a curtain call. Or whatever you theater types call it.” Todd raised an eyebrow at her.
“He’s right.” Ginnie extricated herself. “Harry, can you help me?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask,” she teased.
“You can ask me anything and I’ll say yes.”
“People?” Todd tapped his foot.
“Right. Harry, work Little Jeffrey. I’ll do The Fat Lady.”
“What do I do?”
“Improvise.”
And they did. Ginnie had The Fat Lady throw a fit because Little Jeffrey had stolen her Magic Show first-place prize. Little Jeffrey gallantly conceded the prize, since he had all the prize he needed by winning the woman he loved. Both puppets left the stage happy.
“Good job,” Ginnie breathed. “You’re a natural. If you ever want to give up that boring financial management thing…”
“Theater awaits. Got it.” He stole another kiss. Ginnie didn’t complain.
She did cut the question-and-answer session short. Good theater people knew to always keep the audience wanting more.
After shaking some of the parent’s hands and chatting with some of the more interested children, she begged off. From the adults’ looks, she figured many of them knew why.
But there was some unfinished business she had with Harry.
When they finally walked through the same door she’d taken with Todd earlier, she dropped Harry’s hand and smacked him on the arm.
“Ow.”
“Ow is right.”
Then Harry did something astonishing. He stepped in front of her, cutting her off. He went down on one knee. “Ginnie. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry for what I said and how I hurt you. I can’t sleep.” He did look miserable.
“I thought I knew what I wanted. I wanted independence. I’d gotten stuck playing it safe and conservative and goal-oriented and solitary—and then I met you. And now, this whole time without you I’ve seen nothing but the pain in your eyes. I’ve felt awful. I miss you. So much. I didn’t want to, but I can’t help how much I love you and want you back, Ginnie. Please…won’t you move back in with me?”
“Move back in?”
“Or at least stay in your house nearby. Though I’d rather have you closer.”
“I’m selling the house.”
“Don’t.”
She saw the fear in his eyes and knew he’d been afraid of her going away forever. “Harry…”
“I know I hurt you. I was cruel, and I won’t be ever again. You’ve changed me, Ginnie. With your magic. You have this talent, a talent for making someone believe. The kids suspend their disbelief, and the puppets come alive for them. That’s what you do. You’ve worked your magic on me too, because I’m suspending disbelief in you. If you’ll only give me another chance, I’ll show you I can be trusted with your heart. Just as I trust you with mine. In sickness and health. Through puppets and kids and anything else you want.”
“Um. Are you saying…?”
“Marry me, Ginnie.”
She realized with his words how profoundly he trusted her, to embrace such a thing, after his experience with Jaye Rae. She took a moment to vow to herself never to abuse that trust. “I love you.” Her head spun with delirious happiness
.
“So you’ll marry me?”
“Yes. Oh, yes. Do you think I should be your neighbor?” Ginnie tugged him to his feet.
“You should be whatever you want.” Harry gazed at her with such heat that her body lit up all over.
“Maybe we can make the house a guest quarters?”
“Or a mother-in-law residence.”
“Oh, why did you make me think of her?” Ginnie groaned, thinking of her mother in her little bungalow. But better there than in her own home. Her home with Harry.
“Ginnie, I own more than a hundred residential properties. I can afford a thousand more. Want a house? It’s yours. Want to buy your mother a house? Though I don’t know why you’d want to…” Ginnie raised her eyebrows, but had to smile. “…then buy her a house. I love you. It’s unconditional.”
The wonder and relief that bathed her made her giddy. “Harry.”
“Yes, my dear?”
“Let’s go home.”
“Yes!”
She laughed at his enthusiasm. Then he kissed her, and everything left her mind except the man who’d taught her to give up control, and who offered her in exchange the greatest treasure she could imagine: him.
About the Author
Christina Crooks lives with her husband in Portland, Oregon. To learn more about Christina, please visit www.christinacrooks.net, or find her on Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1266952.Christina.Crooks
Virginity is overrated.
He’s The One
© 2010 Jane Beckenham
Taylor Sullivan doesn’t trust Cupid, but she plays one for a living. As a successful wedding consultant, she creates a couple’s ultimate fantasy—even though she’s never managed to create her own. And when her clients start asking her for wedding night advice, she’s sensible enough to know when to enlist help.
Cade Harper knows two things about women. They either abandon him, or use him as a walking bank. He doesn’t do commitment, and marriage is a dirty word—witness the string of broken hearts he’s left in his wake. Yet Taylor’s business proposition intrigues him. In exchange for one night of no-strings passion, she’ll develop a promotional plan for his business. Who could say no?
Never one to buy anything sight unseen, Taylor tests the waters with a kiss. In an instant she has the only answer she’s ever wanted—that Cade is the one she wants.
As business starts tumbling into pleasure, Cade finds himself falling hard and fast.
It’s a fantasy come true—if they can turn heartache into forever…
Warning: Contains explicit, straight-to-the-heart sex between a hopeless romantic heroine and an abandon-all-hope hero. No need to dress up for this party—just curl up with a glass of bubbly and a box of tissues!
Enjoy the following excerpt for He’s The One:
“Virginity is overrated.” Easy words? She’d said them often enough.
Yet when Taylor Sullivan whispered them, the swell of panic threatened to take hold.
She had to do this.
It was time.
Taylor exhaled every emotion she’d bottled for the past twenty-four hours, ever since she’d seen him: Mr. Perfect-for-the-Job.
As she stood outside the bar, her bravado waned and panic set in. Who wouldn’t panic when they were about to make an off-the-wall suggestion to a stranger?
She gripped her assistant’s arm. “I can’t. This is a mistake.”
“No, it’s not. You said so yourself, he’s the one.”
“What do I know? I mean, who is he?”
“Cade Harper. Bad boy made good—and one sexy hunk. Is that enough for you?” Nita gave her a suggestive grin.
Oh, yeah.
Taylor wiped her sweaty palms down the sides of her skirt. “The fairy godmother sure did hand out good looks at his bassinet.” He’d been the best man at a wedding she’d planned recently. Haloed by the light streaming in from the stained glass window, he’d taken her breath away.
But now, twenty-four hours after that wedding, as the throbbing beat of music threaded its way out onto the kerb where she and Nita waited, Taylor’s wayward nerves vaulted into overdrive. “I should never have told you.”
Nita shrugged. “Probably not, but, hey, I get those calls too.”
“But you can answer them,” Taylor countered.
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
Taylor bit down on her bottom lip, chewing it as if it afforded her the luxury of time. “I don’t want a relationship.”
“Who said anything about a relationship? This is a fling. A one-nighter. Get you past first base, so to speak.”
First base! Taylor swallowed the lump that choked off her breathing. The icy chill that slid along her bones had absolutely nothing to do with Auckland’s balmy May evening breeze.
Her fingers grazed the side of her handbag and snapped back as if scalded when she remembered exactly what her bag contained.
Condoms!
An appropriate reminder: preparation and safety first.
She could do this. She could. She grabbed Nita’s arm. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Nita stalled mid-step. “What? You expect me to come too?”
“I need you. I can’t do this on my own. I need…”
“Cade Harper is who you need, Taylor. You said so yourself. Cade’s a love ’em and leave ’em sort of guy. Now go.” Nita gave her a push toward the entrance and waved goodbye.
Love and leave. Definitely perfect credentials. Cade didn’t know it yet, but he was the answer to Taylor’s prayers.
Battling the raw panic lodged in her gut as every second edged her toward turning and running, Taylor surveyed the patrons. Her hands shook. She wanted to forget the idea. Forget sex. Forget Cade Harper. If she could.
Instead she focused on the entrance, and her pulse quickened.
The best man. How appropriate.
Cade hadn’t been at the wedding rehearsal; otherwise she would have noticed him. But at the wedding, dressed in a black tuxedo that molded his broad shoulders and a crisp white dress shirt with diamond stud buttons, he absolutely stood out and, within seconds, she’d made her decision. He was perfect for the job.
Squaring her shoulders, Taylor shoved the bar door open. For a moment, she stood motionless, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, the noise and heat hitting her in an undulating wave.
This was it.
Taking a deep breath, she clutched her bag and ventured in.
A single length of hand-chiseled wood operated as a bar and spanned one end of the room. Behind it were a medley of liquors and an ornate mirror etched with the slogan of a famous beer. Tables and chairs dotted around the room were mostly already taken. In one corner, a jukebox emitted ear-piercing rock music. In another corner, an eager group of players surrounded a pool table.
All of this was of little consequence to Taylor, because all she could focus on was her quarry—Cade Harper.
He stood behind the bar, a cocktail shaker in one hand and a salt-crusted margarita glass in the other.
Tawny, sun-bronzed hair tapered over his collar, and an unruly tendril dipped across his forehead, seemingly refusing to be controlled. He looked good. Very sexy.
No tuxedo tonight, but a black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled back, stretched taut over biceps that flexed and…
Oh, God.
Definitely a bad boy.
Taylor wiped a hand across her brow and her tongue over suddenly parched lips. The temperature had escalated several degrees in one blazing second.
Partially hidden by a potted ficus, heart dancing an erratic beat, she watched Cade.
“Can I help you?”
Taylor spun around. “I…”
The voice belonged to a female version of Cade. She had the same coloring and the same dark eyes. Taylor glanced toward Cade over the woman’s head. “I’m here to see Mr. Harper,” she mumbled. Mister! Good grief! She wanted to have sex with this man, and she called him mister!
�
��Cade?” his replica responded, eyebrows quirking upward.
Taylor nodded, relieved the woman didn’t ask any questions, and wondered at the same time what her reaction would have been if she’d said, “It’s about sex.”
“Follow me.” The young woman crooked her finger toward Taylor, turned and wove her way between tables. With trepidation and anticipation colliding inside her stomach, Taylor hurried after the woman.
“Cade.”
“Yeah.” He handed the margarita to a customer, and Taylor’s gaze followed the salt-rimmed glass. It shimmered under the overhead lighting, and she found herself licking her lips, almost tasting the delicious salt.
“Lady to see you.”
The moment Cade turned, everything changed.
Cade Harper. Bad boy. One sexy guy.
Taylor’s voice stalled in her throat, and she knew, when his smiling eyes captured hers, she was in way over her head.
Cade wiped his hands on a cloth and again Taylor’s gaze followed. Long, lean fingers. Fingers that would touch… Oh, boy!
He smiled. “You wanted to see me?”
She nodded and felt herself drowning in that smile. His dark eyes twinkled, a swirl of gold and chocolate brown. Just like Hershey Kisses.
Kisses!
Yep. She was definitely going under.
“Lady, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got a bar to run,” he said, grabbing a knife and cutting a lemon into wafer-thin slices.
Taylor shook herself. Okay. Come on. Just say it. “I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Ask away then,” he said, not looking up.
Taylor burned and eyed the milling crowd. “Actually, it’s a proposition.”
He definitely looked then, and his gaze focused on her. He placed the razor-sharp knife on the cutting board. His mouth quirked at one corner, smiling, gaze assessing. “Sounds intriguing.”
When a good man is hard to find, there’s only one thing left to do. Buy one.
My Gigolo
© 2010 Molly Burkhart
As far as Gabrielle is concerned, her life isn’t at all a mess. It’s simply taught her a hard lesson—never rely on anyone else for her own happiness. It’s not that she’s against having sex. Far from it. It’s just that if it comes with strings tied to the word “love”, she’ll pass.
Hands On Page 17
