Love, Valentine Style Read online

  Was she coming on to him? Wait. Hadn’t he just made the first move? One that had surprised the hell out of him? Beck licked the icing from his lips and debated his next move. His head told him one thing, the area below his belt, alive for the first time in years, argued for a different course of action. His head lost the battle.

  *

  Had the blackout stripped Grace of all inhibitions, allowing some alien, seductive vixen to take over her body? Such behavior was totally out of character for her. Although, she had to admit, a part of her didn’t want to stop. All of a sudden heat pooled in previously glacial parts of her body. She’d lived like a nun so long that the sensations startled her.

  Beck inched closer, his breath tickling her cheek. “Grace?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What are we doing?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  Did she? Two thoughts sprang to mind: Becket Delaney was definitely not gay, and she absolutely didn’t want him to stop whatever he’d started. She drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t think so.”

  He wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and drew her closer, capturing her lips with his. Other than pecks on the cheek from her kids, no one had kissed her in ten years. Suddenly Grace realized how starved she was for intimacy. She leaned into Beck and kissed him back. Hard. With a desperation that shocked her. He responded in a way that sucked the air from her lungs and shot waves of need rocketing through her body.

  He slid her down onto the cushions and covered her body with his. His hands caressed her scalp, her cheeks, her neck. He shifted his weight, lowered one hand from her head, and stretched out his arm. A moment later he trailed his chocolate icing-covered fingers from the hollow of her neck down into her cleavage. With his lips and tongue he kissed away every last morsel.

  Grace arched into him. Desperate for more, she began her own exploration. She unbuttoned his shirt and freed it from his waistband. Her fingers played across each rippling muscle of his bare chest, her lips following. “Needs chocolate,” she murmured.

  She reached out to swipe a finger of icing and painted it over his nipples. When she wrapped her lips around a hardened nub and sucked, he moaned his own need. “I want you.”

  Acting more wanton than she’d ever behaved in her life, Grace grabbed for his belt buckle. “I need you. Now.”

  They frenetically stripped off each other’s clothes, tossing garments into the dark until not a strip of fabric separated his skin from hers.

  Beck paused above her. “Are you sure?”

  She answered by drawing him inside her.

  They made love three times, each coupling more explosive than the last.

  “I hope the power never comes back on,” she said when finally spent, they rested in each other’s arms.

  He nuzzled her neck. “I could live with that.”

  A roar from Beck’s stomach broke the mood.

  *

  Grace laughed. “We should finish the cake.”

  “That’s what got us going in the first place.”

  “Maybe we should switch to the pretzels?”

  Beck reached around in the dark until his hand landed on the bag. He ripped it open and pulled out two pretzels, handing one to Grace and popping the other into his mouth.

  Only the sound of munching pretzels broke the silence that settled over the room. Beck puzzled through the thoughts and emotions bombarding him. He never expected to make love to another woman. He expected guilt to consume him if he ever tried. Yet he felt no guilt after making love to Grace. A sense of peace had settled over him. And freedom. Maybe all he’d needed was finding the right woman to rid him of the shackles of his past.

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drew her closer, and inhaled a shaky breath. For the first time since the incident, he felt ready to talk about it. “They were killed on Valentine’s Day,” he said.

  “Who?”

  He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat before continuing. “My wife and two kids. Five years ago. They were on their way home from school when a seventeen-year-old ran a red light. He’d been texting while driving. Never saw the light change.”

  “Oh, Beck!”

  “He walked away with barely a scratch. My family died at the scene. All holidays are hard on me, but Valentine’s Day is the worst. Every year since, the moment I see hearts and cherubs popping up all over the place, I sink into a deep funk that lasts for weeks.”

  Beck leaned forward and fumbled around on the coffee table until he found his phone. He switched it on to provide light to find the bottle of scotch, then leaned back against the cushions and took a long swig. When he turned to offer Grace the bottle, he noticed the tears streaming down her face. He wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs.

  “My reason for hating Valentine’s Day is so insignificant compared to yours.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  *

  Grace sniffed back a few more threatening tears. She’d carried the pain of betrayal with her for ten years, but Dickhead had killed any love she had for him the moment she discovered him cheating on her.

  Beck’s loves had literally been torn from him. How could she possibly compare her loss to his? Still, she owed him an explanation after he’d bared his soul to her. “Long story short? I discovered my ex with another woman—on Valentine’s Day.”

  She snuggled deeper into Beck’s chest, heaved a sigh, and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Grace woke the next morning to find herself spooned against a warm, muscular body. His arms holding her snuggly, she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. Not an unpleasant sensation but not one she’d experienced in a very long time. Behind her eyelids, she sensed sunlight streaming into the room. It took a moment for her brain to focus before she remembered where she was, what she’d done the night before, and with whom.

  Had the sex really been as spectacular as she thought, or were her feelings influenced by her ten-year, self-imposed abstinence? Try as she might, she couldn’t remember ever experiencing such satisfaction from Dickhead, not even when they were in the heady early days of their romance, back when she thought those marriage vows meant something to him. Now, here she was the morning after the night before, pondering exactly what last night meant to her and wondering what it meant to Beck.

  The morning after the night before. That brought her out of her reverie and to her senses. She hadn’t experienced one of those in decades. And never in an office building with a coworker, let alone her producer. Talk about awkward! Maybe if she fell back to sleep, she’d wake up alone in her own bed.

  However, with her brain racing, she found it impossible to sink back into the oblivion of sleep. She finally pried her eyes open and assessed her surroundings. Various items of clothing—hers and Beck’s—lay in haphazard disarray, scattered across the carpeting. Her bra draped off the coffee table in front of the sofa. Somehow one of her shoes had managed to wind up halfway across the room.

  She scanned the rest of the office. On a bookshelf to her left she noticed a digital clock blinking a series of zeroes. They had power! Grace slipped her arm out from under Beck’s embrace and reached for his cell phone to check the time. Six-thirty. In less than an hour people would begin streaming into the building. And here they were, sprawled naked on his office sofa.

  She squirmed around to face him and nudged his shoulder. “Beck, wake up.”

  “I’m awake,” he mumbled, pulling her closer.

  So was a certain part of his anatomy that had sprung to life against her belly, but she couldn’t think about that now. And neither should he. She pushed away from him. “No time for that. The power’s back on. We need to get out of here before anyone arrives.”

  His eyes sprang open. He took one look at her and smiled. “Good morning, Grace.”

  She smiled back but said, “It won’t be if we don’t get out of here.”

  He leaned o
ver and kissed the tip of her nose. “Afraid of office gossip?”

  “More afraid of you losing your job. I’m sure the network must have some rule against sex on the office sofa.”

  “Not sure but now that the power is back on, I could look it up in the company handbook.”

  She swatted his arm. “Get dressed.”

  “Don’t be a killjoy.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her breasts tingled. Need blossomed below her belly. “We can’t,” she moaned, unable to deny her body.

  “Sure we can. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  *

  Half an hour later, fully sated, Grace and Beck slipped out the service entrance at the side of the building and headed down the street to a café for breakfast.

  Beck sat across the table from Grace and attacked a stack of blueberry pancakes while she concentrated on her veggie omelet. The food, along with the noise from the crowded café, gave them both an excuse not to speak much, which he viewed as a good thing at the moment. In the light of day and away from the office, he wasn’t sure what to say to her.

  What he did know was that last night had changed his life. However, had they’d shared a one-night stand or the start of a relationship? He had no idea how to broach the subject with her. Last night they both opened up to each other, sharing deep wounds from their past after coming together in explosive passion. Was it only about the sex, or was there more to their blackout encounter? Did they walk away after breakfast and pretend nothing had happened or find some way to build on the experience?

  He’d dated little in high school and married his college sweetheart. Nothing in his past prepared him for this moment. He’d never had a one-night stand, never had an encounter with someone he barely knew.

  After they finished eating and were both sipping coffee, their eyes met over the rims of their mugs. The doubt in her eyes told him she struggled with the same issues that plagued him this morning. Finally, he set his mug on the table and said, “There’s an elephant in the room.”

  She nodded. “An enormous one.” Grace took a deep breath. “But is it named Regret? Or Possibility?”

  “I’m thinking he looks more like a Possibility.”

  The corners of her mouth turned upward, and the worry left her eyes. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  He reached across the table and took both of her hands in his.

  Chapter Four

  February 10th

  “That’s a wrap,” said Beck at the conclusion of the taping for the second of the two Love Recipes Valentine’s Day shows. “Great job, everyone.” He nodded to Grace and Thea before following his director off the set.

  “See?” Thea elbowed Grace in the ribs. “You made it through the tapings without needing a single heart-shaped arsenic cookie.”

  “I had your help.”

  “Not to mention someone else’s. I see you took my advice.”

  “What advice?”

  “That you should get to know Beck better.”

  Busted! Grace felt the heat rise to her cheeks. With so much baggage between them, she and Beck had decided to keep their budding romance a secret for the time being, even from Thea. After so many years of emotional isolation, they both first needed to make certain they were experiencing love and not just hormones run amok after years of imprisonment.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” asked Thea. “The rest of the crew might be clueless, but I’ve known you far too long, Grace.”

  Grace forced a nervous chuckle. “Can’t pull anything over on you, can I?”

  “Hey, I am the original Dr. Trulee Lovejoy, or have you forgotten?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “Well, then? Anything you’d like to share with me?”

  Grace shrugged. “I was only following doctor’s orders.”

  “I’ll send you a bill.”

  Grace and Beck had spent so many nights together over the past month that they had begun discussing moving in together. For two people who had eschewed sex, not to mention romance, for so many years, they were certainly making up for lost time. Hormones or true love? Only time would tell.

  Getting through today’s tapings had been a huge hurdle for both of them. The ghost of two prior Valentine’s days—one hers, one his—loomed large throughout the show’s rehearsals and taping. She saw it on his face and knew he saw it on hers whenever their eyes met.

  Getting through Valentine’s Day four days from now would be an even greater hurdle. They had vowed to do it together, to be there for each other. Grace promised herself she wouldn’t let Beck sink into depression during the day. He had assured her that he, not Jack Daniels, would be her Valentine’s Day date this year. No pity party for either of them—no matter what it took.

  “I brought you something,” said Thea. She pulled a small pink gift bag from her tote and handed it to Grace.

  “A Valentine’s gift?”

  “Of course not. I know how you feel about Valentine’s Day. Think of it as a Congratulations-on-Your-New-Relationship gift.”

  Grace peeked into the bag and blushed. “You were very sure of yourself, weren’t you?”

  *

  Four days later Beck arrived at Grace’s apartment, his arms laden with a large bag of Chinese take-out and a signature robin’s egg blue Tiffany gift bag, a reminder of her greatest humiliation. But of course, Beck wouldn’t know that. She’d never told him the full story of that night ten years ago.

  Grace eyed the bag with trepidation, hoping Beck hadn’t decided to deal with the day by proposing. It was way too soon to be talking marriage. But if that were his intention, wouldn’t he have a small box in his pocket rather than walking in with a large gift bag? “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the bag.

  He placed the food on her kitchen counter and walked her over to the sofa. Once they were both seated, he handed her the gift bag. “Something I thought you should have. Think of it as a souvenir of a very special night.”

  Grace reached inside the bag and withdrew a large robin’s egg blue box tied with a white silk ribbon. She pulled on one of the ribbon ends, undoing the bow, then lifted the box lid. Under layers of white tissue paper she discovered a blown glass elephant. She lifted it out of the box. Flowing cursive letters etched along the elephant’s upturned trunk spelled out Possibility. “Our personal elephant in the room,” she said.

  “Reminding us that our future together is full of possibilities.”

  “I like that.” She leaned over and kissed him.

  One thing led to another, and in no time they were both naked, dinner forgotten. “Wait,” said Grace. “I have a gift for you.”

  “You’re all the gift I need.”

  “Trust me, you’re really going to want to open this.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.” She scooted off the sofa and into the kitchen where she removed Thea’s gift from the microwave. After screwing the lid back on, she placed the jar in the pink gift bag. Returning to the living room, she handed Beck the bag.

  He reached in and pulled out the warm jar. “Chocolate?”

  “Not just any chocolate. Read the label.”

  Beck held the jar up and read aloud, “Trulee Delectable Chocolate Body Paint.” He threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Got a paint brush?”

  *

  Trulee Delectable Chocolate Body Paint

  also good on ice cream, fruit, and cake

  Ingredients:

  4 oz. butter

  5 oz. unsweetened chocolate

  12 oz. evaporated milk

  1 lb. confectioners sugar

  1/2 teaspoon almond or peppermint extract

  Melt butter and chocolate on top of a double boiler. Remove from heat. Beat in evaporated milk, then confectioners sugar. Return to double boiler and continue to heat for 10 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until mixture thickens. Stir in extract once mixture has thickened. Serve warm or cold. Refrigerate or freeze leftovers.

 
*

  A Note from the Author

  Thanks so much for taking the time to read Finding Mr. Right, the mini-sequel to Hooking Mr. Right. I hope you enjoyed it and the rest of the stories in this anthology. If so, please consider leaving a review and telling your friends about the book. I’d appreciate it immensely.

  Would you like to learn of new releases? You can sign up for my newsletter by clicking here: [email protected]. You have my word that you won’t be flooded with emails, nor will I ever share or sell your email address. You can also unsubscribe at any time.

  Finally, I always love to hear from readers. You can email me at [email protected] or [email protected].

  Happy reading!

  Lois/Emma

  *

  About Emma Carlyle / Lois Winston

  Emma Carlyle is the pen name of critically acclaimed, award-winning mystery, romance, romantic suspense, and women’s fiction author Lois Winston. Anastasia Pollack, the reluctant amateur sleuth she created in her Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series and the companion Mini-Mysteries, was dubbed, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum” by Kirkus Reviews. Visit Lois/Emma at www.emmacarlyle.com and www.loiswinston.com, and the Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers blog at www.anastasiapollack.blogspot.com. Connect with Lois/Emma on Twitter at http://twitter.com/Anasleuth.

  Also by Lois Winston

  Talk Gertie to Me

  Elementary, My Dear Gertie

  Assault With a Deadly Glue Gun

  Death by Killer Mop Doll

  Crewel Intentions

  Revenge of the Crafty Corpse

  Mosaic Mayhem

  Once Upon a Romance

  Top Ten Reasons Your Novel Is Rejected

  Decoupage Can Be Deadly

  Writing as Emma Carlyle

  Hooking Mr. Right

  Finding Hope

  Four Uncles and a Wedding

  Lost in Manhattan

  Someone to Watch Over Me

  Valentine Rules

  by Mel Curtis

  What started out as an innocent assignment for work –accompanying a popular actress fresh out of rehab on shopping trips – has gained Gemma Kent regular makeovers by said actress and a sidebar photo on People magazine’s cover! All the attention would be flattering, except she’s become famous as a mystery woman with the Twitter handle: GlitterfrostGem. Everyone, even the local gossip column, is speculating about her identity. In real life, Gemma wears combat boots, poindexter glasses, and a prickly attitude. Now Randy Farrell, the man she can’t get out of her head, wants a date with Glitterfrost Gem! Which would be great if he realized that invisible Gemma Kent and Glitterfrost Gem were one and the same.