Thorndike Press Large Print Romance Series (Hardcover)
Available beginning January 18, 2006
Buy it here from
Amazon or Barnes and Noble or Thorndike Press
Chapter One
“It's a lovely seventy degrees already in America's finest city. Charlie Chattham here, bringing you all your favorite golden oldies on a beautiful Monday morning in sunny San Diego--”
Gabe Freeman winced and lowered the volume of the radio. “Enjoy your last Monday morning broadcast, Charlie. May Los Angeles be everything you want it to be--I sure hope you know what you're giving up.” He shook his head as he reached for the silver commuter mug, craving his must-have morning Java.
He agreed with Charlie, though. It was a perfect morning in southern California. At the age of thirty-nine, Gabe had the ideal life, and it was getting better every day. Flipping off the air-conditioning, he lowered the driver's side window. A moist ocean breeze filled his Volvo's interior space which suddenly felt much too cramped.
Everything was perfect--except for the traffic. He wasn't used to the early morning backup on the Coronado Bridge. In fact, he wasn't used to even being up before noon, let alone sitting in rush hour traffic. Since his promotion, Gabe had finally been given a reprieve from the graveyard shift and plunked into the prime A.M. drive time slot. He'd worked hard to get where he was and intended to enjoy every moment--as soon as he woke up enough.
A horn blared somewhere in the line of cars behind him, jarring his thoughts. He supposed he would get used to all this noise eventually.
“Traffic is just starting to back up this morning and the bridge is slowing down as you approach the toll plaza.”
“No kidding.” Gabe glanced in the rear view mirror at the car behind him. An attractive blonde was talking on a cell phone, her free hand periodically slapping the steering wheel.
Gabe shuddered as he watched her finish the call and immediately punch in another number. The reality of what people were like driving to work every morning was beginning to sink in. Even so, he was looking forward to the challenge of capturing their attention. He intended to distract them from obsessing about how much business they could get done on the way in to their jobs.
“And if you're listening out there Gamblin' Gabe Freeman, you’d better be good to my faithful KGLD listeners or I'll have to leave Smogtown and come back here and kick your you-know-what.”
Groaning, Gabe loosened his Armani tie and ran his fingers through his short brown curls. He glanced at himself in the mirror. The shorter style provided the GQ look he needed in his new position. Even though it was easier to deal with, he found he missed his previously shoulder-length hair.
Another horn blared. Today's commute was beginning to be an exercise in patience. Gabe's jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth. The traffic jam was going to make him late for his first advertising meeting at the station.
As he moved his car forward, Gabe was forced to stop abruptly. He reached for the white floral box on the seat next to him to prevent it from falling. The box was filled with long-stemmed red roses to commemorate the six months until his wedding to Jillian. Their wedding was planned for June. Right on schedule.
“Hey! You want to get your head out of the clouds and move up a little?”
Blinking, Gabe realized there were now two car lengths between him and the car ahead of him. The grating voice of the beautiful blonde yelling out her window pulled him back to reality.
As Gabe pulled forward and eased to a stop, the line of bright blue tollbooths finally came into view. As more horns blared, he watched as a denim-clad arm swung out of a pickup in line ahead of him and flipped the bird to the impatient lines of traffic. The man then pointed ahead.
A poster sat on an easel near one of the booths. Red and white heart-shaped balloons floated above the sign, bouncing in the light breeze.
Close enough now to read the poster, Gabe realized why his line was moving so slowly. In big black letters, the poster read:
STOP AND WISH CELESTE
A HAPPY 40TH BIRTHDAY!
SHE'S SINGLE AND DEFINITELY
NOT OVER THE HILL!
So that's why the line was so slow. Gabe sighed. Stuck in the birthday-girl line. He resigned himself to the fact that he would be walking in during the middle of his first important meeting, and not making the greatest impression on the rest of the day crew. At times like this it certainly helped to be engaged to the owner's daughter.
As Gabe inched closer, he stared at the source of his troubles, watching the woman in the tollbooth with unexpected interest. His gaze was drawn first to her hair. Shoulder-length, it hung in wild, unruly waves and curls. Though brown in color, there were distinctive red highlights that caught the sun's rays every time she leaned out of the booth to collect a toll. The hairstyle's effect was a little frenzied, though the color was dazzling--like morning flames in the morning sunlight.
As she leaned out of the booth, he could see she wore a silk, purple sleeveless blouse tucked into a bizarre-looking skirt. The skirt was actually made of dozens of silk ties that had been sewn together vertically so that each point formed the hem of the skirt. The effect was unique, almost bohemian.
“Happy Birthday, Celeste!” a cheerful voice called out from a Jeep in an adjacent lane.
Gabe watched as Celeste pivoted, then smiled and waved at the driver. Sunlight reflected off dozens of silver bangles on her arm and flashed painfully in Gabe's eyes. It took a moment to blink away the glare.
The beautiful blonde's horn blared again from behind. Gabe winced, shot the woman a glare in his rearview mirror and eased his car forward.
“We've got a listener's request up next. This one's just for you, lovely Linda-in-La-Mesa. And if you're supposed to be at work at the eight o'clock hour, you're already seventeen minutes late so you might as well just kick back and enjoy the--"
Gabe snapped off the radio in frustration. Maybe everyone else was running late too, he thought, biting at an uneven thumbnail.
His attention returned to the birthday-girl. Without the facts the poster provided, it would have been difficult to guess her age at forty based on what he could see from three car lengths back. Perhaps it was her outfit. No, it was more her attitude, he thought. She had a sort of youthful glow. Undoubtedly a free spirit who wouldn't understand the overheated tempers the unexpected delay was causing.
She probably flitted from job to job, Gabe thought, unable to picture her in the corporate world. She certainly wasn't the typical dress-for-success woman climbing the corporate ladder.
Gabe stared as Celeste flashed a broad grin at the car filled with teens singing “Happy Birthday” to her in boisterous, off-key voices. The smile she offered was radiant and candid, as if she was the kind of person who held nothing back. Unrestricted. Uninhibited.
A question of what she might be like in bed popped into Gabe's head. He blinked in surprise and shoved the vision away, mystified at the unexpected thought.
Her wild curls bounced as Celeste shook her head. She stood next to the car with her hands on her hips, waiting for the serenade to end. Gabe was unable to prevent his gaze from dropping to where her hands rested on the curves below her waist. She definitely wasn't thin, he concluded, but looked deliciously soft and feminine--so unlike the popular wafer-thin models his fiancée labored to emulate.
A horn blast followed by the staccato beeping of his own watch alarm brought Gabe instantly back to reality. Only one more car between him and the birthday-girl.
As the car in front of him paid the dollar toll, Gabe glanced at the white box on the seat beside him. Impulsively, he loosened the lid and, without taking his eyes off Celeste, he reached in and pulled out one of the roses.
Celeste turned away from the flow of traffic, sneaking a look at the digital clock on the cash register as she deposited the toll. Fifty more minutes left on her shift and the embarrassing ordeal would be over.
Her cheeks ached from smiling and she longed to say her final yes-it's-really-my-birthday and get back home. Four hours of cheerfully enduring the steady stream of comments had been exhausting.
Celeste had spent the better part of the morning contemplating an appropriate payback for her friend Kay's good-natured antics. Perhaps introducing Kay's three young daughters to makeup and nail polish would do, she thought, smiling at the vision of Kay's youngsters with bright lilac eyeshadow and chili-pepper-red lipgloss.
It would serve her right. Celeste sighed, put on a forced smile and readied herself for the next birthday commentary.
As she turned and leaned out the opening in the booth, she extended her hand toward the driver of the next car. Instead of currency, a long-stemmed red rose was placed in the palm of her hand.
Her gaze locked on the perfect bloom, momentarily ignoring its presenter. Her fingers wrapped around the stem and she brought the unexpected offering to her lips, feeling the petal softness, breathing the intoxicating fragrance.
“I . . . I still intend to pay . . .”
Celeste returned her attention to the driver of the waiting car. “Pardon me?”
“Here's my money, I mean . . . the rose is just . . . for your birthday. The sign . . .”
The driver's words came out in an adolescent tumble as Celeste stared at him. Another yuppie ready to join the rat race, she thought. A drop dead gorgeous one, though, and impeccably dressed. Pressed white long-sleeved shirt, lightly starched. Gold cufflinks. A nice touch. Expensive tie. Flawless taste in clothes in the current popular shades of olive. Obviously very image conscious. Probably an ambitious executive with a sassy little assistant who aimed to please, she thought.
“I bet it's been a tough morning for you.”
Celeste blinked in surprise at the empathetic comment. It wasn't what she'd expected.
“It's not been too bad,” she said. “A little repetitious.”
“So, who put up the poster?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the sign.
“An overly concerned neighbor of mine,” she answered, “who thinks I'm lonely.”
The driver nodded his understanding. “Have you been plotting your revenge, then?”
Celeste grinned. “I have the perfect retaliation in mind--”
The painful blare of a car horn interrupted her words. Gabe realized he had been talking with Celeste as though the line of impatient drivers behind him didn't even exist.
He stared at her, for some reason wanting to say more, to keep her talking. Another horn blast disturbed his thoughts. “I'd better go.”
“Right.”
Gabe pulled his car forward and within two seconds, screeching alarms sounded. He'd forgotten to hand her his toll.
Celeste stepped out of the booth to retrieve the dollar bill, ignoring a loud wolf-whistle coming from the line of cars.
Gabe noticed the flush on her cheeks and also the heat in his own. But her smile never wavered. She handled herself well in an embarrassing situation, he thought.
“Sorry,” she said, “I forgot to hit the gate switch.”
“No, it was my fault.” He gazed into her smoky gray eyes which sparkled with amusement, as though she was enjoying herself.
“Thanks for the rose. It was a nice surprise.”
“Happy Birthday, Celeste.”
“Enjoy the rest of the day,” she replied softly.
Her lips were inches away from his as she bent to retrieve the toll. He could kiss her quite easily, he realized, shocked that he wanted to.
A whisper soft breeze blew the sides of her hair against her cheek, causing Celeste to bring her hand to her face. He stared at her long, slender fingers. Each nail was painted a different color. On her it looked whimsical, not at all bizarre.
“Thanks a lot,” she said.
Gabe watched in the rearview mirror as Celeste returned to the booth. Her hips swayed fetchingly and her skirt swirled around her legs. His gaze dropped to her feet, which were surprisingly bare.
As Celeste stepped into the booth, she paused and tilted her head toward him as though she knew he was still watching her. A dazzling smile caused her face to almost glow as she nodded at him, bringing the rose to her lips once again.
Gabe tore his gaze from her, forcing his thoughts back to the fact that he was now even more embarrassingly late for work.
Celeste bit her lower lip in frustration. Her shift relief was already fifteen minutes late, her patience was running thin, and she’d run out of cheerfulness. She was also having trouble keeping her attention on the job at hand.
All she could think about was getting back home, already behind schedule for her own busy day.
“Sorry I'm so late, Celeste. I'm Sandy, by the way. You were a doll to cover for me this morning and I really appreciate it. My little girl was so sick . . . but I got her into urgent care and over to my mom's as quick as I could. The doctor said the medicine should kick in quick.”
Celeste jumped at the perky voice, startled by the jumble of words that interrupted her thoughts. She instantly forgave the young woman, canceling her negative thoughts, replacing them with sympathetic ones.
“It's all right, really. Don't worry about it. I hope it's nothing serious.”
“Oh, no, just another ear ache. Has it been busy? I saw the sign when I drove up--did Kay do that?”
Celeste nodded as she continued to take tolls while the young woman stowed her purse and clocked in.
Sandy patted her hair and checked her teeth for lipstick in the always-have-a-smile-ready-for-the-customer mirror on the counter. “Kay's the best boss I've ever had. I never thought I'd keep as busy as she's kept me, working so many temp jobs and all.”
Celeste struggled to concentrate on the woman's conversation. She didn't want to be rude, but she was more than ready to be on her way and wasn't in the mood to chit-chat.
“Thanks again. Hey, what's this?” The young woman picked up the rose from the counter and brought it to her face to breathe in its perfume. “Secret admirer?”
“Some guy in a Volvo,” Celeste answered, her tone even and colorless.
“Some cute guy, I hope?” Sandy asked.
“Just a guy. Nothing special.” Celeste felt a twinge of guilt at her misleading reply. Why did the encounter with the stranger seem special? She had no reason to even be thinking about him.
But she was thinking about him. That alone added to the strangeness. She'd noticed the floral box on the seat beside him, so she figured the whole event was just a spontaneous gesture on his part to join in on the birthday gag.
He was just another yuppie eager to play with the other rats in the rat race, Celeste reminded herself. Still, she allowed herself to dwell a moment on the memory of the expression in his chocolate brown eyes. Eyes that seemed honest, even a little naive. Hmmm . . .
“Celeste?”
“What?” She shook away the memory of the stranger.
“I'm ready when you are.” Sandy touched her arm and they smoothly changed places in the toll booth.
Celeste took the rose from Sandy, then clocked out, slipped her feet into her sandals, and grabbed her purse. She waited until the approaching car came to a stop at the booth and then ran to her pale blue Volkswagen van.
Normally when she filled in at the tollbooth to help out her friend Kay, the job was pleasant, mindless work. Almost therapeutic compared to anything she'd ever done in her life. Today had been a dramatic exception, reminding her how much she loved having her own business, being her own boss.
As soon as she turned her van around and aimed for home, her brain kicked back into work mode. She lowered the volume of the soothing sounds of piano music that filled the interior of her van. Mentally she began to make a list. Place her supply order before noon. Do a new price comparison of floral boxes. Proof the Yellow Pages ad. Enter last week's expenses into the computer.
And find out exactly what was delaying her latest potential account from making a decision. Didn't they realize she had a business to run?
Celeste rubbed her forehead, now wrinkled with the tension of her thoughts. At a stoplight, she breathed deeply, commanding herself to ease the pressure that was building.
Remember, you left the corporate world so you wouldn't have to feel this kind of stress, she reminded herself. Celeste ejected the tape from her cassette player and the radio announcer’s voice filled the van.
“This is Charlie Chattham signing off on my last Monday morning of my last week at wonderful KGLD, your station of golden oldies and magical memories--"
"And don't forget endless delays, guys."
Celeste snapped off the radio as she pulled into her driveway, anxious to get her real day underway.
She grabbed her things and almost ran up the walk to the beach cottage she had called home for almost a year now. As she closed the door behind her, she glanced at the blinking light on her answering machine. “Better be good news.”
She immediately hit the play button and waited for the message to rewind.
“Celeste, this is Brent, Sales Manager at KGLD, and we still haven't made a final decision about using Celestial Cookies for the Valentine campaign. Our new morning DJ, Gabe Freeman, has some reservations and we needed to ask you--”
The machine screeched, interrupting the message in midstream.
“Ask me what?” she said, shaking her head and mentally adding ‘buy new answering machine’ to her to-do list.
Celeste grabbed her keys and headed back out the door. It was time for the radio station to make a decision and it looked like she'd need to go there in person to make it happen.
She had her own deadlines. If she was going to service their upcoming Valentine's Day promotion, she needed to buy triple her normal supplies, and the supply order needed to be called in within the next few hours.
Enough was enough. They either make a decision today or she would withdraw her proposal, she decided.
Just as the words formed in her head, another thought followed. But you really need this account, the voice in her head whispered.
It was true. Her gourmet cookie business was steadily growing but she had a new oven to pay for and bills that needed more attention than she'd been able to give them since she'd plunged headfirst into self-employment.
The radio account was more important than she wanted to admit. Resigning herself to the fact that she might need to do some major schmoozing, Celeste did an abrupt about-face and went back into the house.
Inside, she grabbed a decorative tin of chocolate chip cookies. She would use them to tantalize and tempt the stubborn morning DJ that was causing all her headaches.
A smile replaced her frown. Gabe Freeman wouldn't even know what hit him. She was determined to leave the radio station with a signed contract, no matter what it took.
###
Thorndike Press Large Print Romance Series (Hardcover)
Available beginning January 18, 2006
Buy it here from
Amazon or Barnes and Noble or Thorndike Press
