Summers' Love, A Cute and Funny Cinderella Love Story (LPC Romantic Comedy Series) (4 page)

“They all are, son.
Puppy Love, That Dog Won’t Hunt, In Heat
. That’s your brand.”

“I didn’t mean dog in that way. I meant … never mind. Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming to see you.”

Chapter Three

Weighed down with two bags of books, Kate hurried to catch up with … Stu … Stu … whatever his last name was. Outside the store, she paused momentarily under the green awning and looked up and down the sidewalk. The sun had dipped below the rooftops, but the night air remained hot and humid. Maybe her brother was right. If this is what it takes to sell stun guns, she
should
get a different second job.

Half a block away she spied a man in a dark blue blazer resting against the hood of a bright red sports car. Lumbering under the weight of her purchase, Kate walked up and set the two bags of books at his feet.

“Sign these.”

He jerked his head around and stared at her. “Do you mind? I’m on the phone.”

Kate reached up and yanked the Bluetooth from his ear.

The author’s eyes widened and he stared at her without blinking. “Oh my gosh, you’re not one of those people who stalks celebrities are you?”

“You wish.” Kate nudged a bag with her shoe. “I bought fourteen.
Fourteen.
We
are not
in the store, so your stupid rule doesn’t apply.” She extended her own pen to him. And if you don’t mind, I’ll say it again—please
hurry
. I need to get back to my group.”

He stepped toward her. Kate felt warmth radiating from him. “Look, I don’t know who you are,” he said in a soft voice, “but I need my headset back.” He held out an open palm.

They played an unspoken game of “Don’t Blink,” which Kate lost. “Fine.” She reluctantly dropped the earpiece into the author’s hand. As she did she casually allowed her fingers to brush against his palm and felt her heart quicken. Switching tactics, Kate tilted her face toward his.

“Pretty, pretty, please. It would mean so much to me if you would sign these books.” As her heart fluttered with anxiety, Kate watched the hard lines of the famous author’s furrowed brow melt.

“Trust me, you do not want these books signed. Not by me, anyway. My signature will only diminish their value.”

Kate couldn’t tell if his attempt at modesty was some clever passive-aggressive pick-up strategy or the sign of sincerity. Honestly. How hard could it be to sign your name?

Standing on her tiptoes with her face inches from his, she said softly, “I know how tiring this must be. The public scrutiny, heartless critics. Not to mention the malicious online reviews, and those spiteful blog comments.”

Kate detected a subtle change in his breathing. His blue eyes shimmered with the intensity of the waters that waited for her off the beaches of Nassau.

“What is it you
really
want?” he asked in a husky voice, the air filling with his minty breath.

Kate held his gaze, wishing she had worn her pumps. She hated being looked down upon. Especially by men.

She let her hand slide down until her fingers found his. With a slight squeeze she purred, “What does any woman want except to be loved, cherished and protected?” Forcing a pouty smile, she added, “Please? For me? It will only take a few seconds. Then you can get back to your autograph party.”

She watched his eyes shift from hers and begin a downward drift, his gaze roaming over her lips, throat and settling momentarily on her cleavage. Without lifting his eyes, he gently rubbed his thumb over the pearls of her necklace with his free hand.

“Are these real?”

His knuckles brushed her skin and parted the top of her blouse ever so slightly. She felt her breasts swell in response to his touch. Darn him.

“Reason I’m asking is, I once spent a month in the Philippines, diving with the Māori tribe.” His breath felt hot against her cheek. Her pulse quickened. “Yours have that same perfectly round shape.”

Kate’s lower lip betrayed her in a quiver; her breathing became ragged. He dipped his head as if inspecting each pearl for imperfections. As he did, Kate tilted her head back, exposing more of her neck and chest.

“Of course, these are fake.” He released the pearls and pulled back. “Not that most men would notice, or care,” he added casually, though his eyes narrowed. “They’re still a nice set.”

Dizzy, Kate struggled to keep from falling against him. Wow. The girls were right. This guy was
smooth
. And probably
not
talking about her necklace.

Kate recovered as best she could. “What about … the books?”

Flashing that dreamy white smile, he asked, “Do you believe in love?”

“I … ah … what difference does that make?”

“Ever even
been
in love?”

Kate sensed her big sale slipping away and with it her trip to Nassau, the fruity drinks with umbrellas, white sand, emerald water … “Are you going to sign these books or not?”

His devilish smile spread. “So I take it your answer is no, you’ve never been in love.”

“Of course I have.”

“What was his name?”

“None of your business. Look, I have a bunch of gals back at my condo waiting for me.”

He nodded toward the large poster plastered in the front window of the bookstore—the sign that read: One Autographed Copy Per Customer. “I can sign one.” He lifted a book from her bag. “Your name?”

Kate’s stamina and resolve returned. “I don’t
need
a book signed to
me
.”

“Sure you don’t. That’s why you chased me out here. Name?”

She sighed. “Kate Winston. But it won’t matter if you don’t sign them
all
.”

He wrote on the title page, slipped a bookmark inside, and handed her the book. Kate silently read the inscription.
You are the reason men fall in love. Affectionately yours, Stu.

“You’re welcome,” he said, stepping past her. He was almost to the front door of the bookstore when he turned and called, “Nice meeting you, Kate Winston. Let’s do this again sometime.” With a disarming smile he added, “And soon.”

Chapter Four

Kate cringed as Red crammed a cheese-smeared sodium-free cracker into her mouth. Fingertips glistening with grease caressed the front cover of
In Heat
as though it were a sacred artifact.

“Have you had a chance yet to read what he wrote to me?” Red flipped to the title page.

“He didn’t exactly sign them,” Kate explained, doling out more books to the women seated in her living room. “Only one autographed book per customer.”

Red stared at the unsigned title page. “Cuss a monkey, I could have bought an unsigned copy myself,”

Kate shrugged. “I did the best I could.”

Slamming the book shut, Red placed the hardback novel onto the coffee table next to the shrink-wrapped package containing her Exterminator. “And I was
so
looking forward to trying out my new stun gun on my ex.” She bent forward and began lacing her biker boots.

Kate’s stomach twisted into knots. “You’re not really going to cancel your order over some lousy autograph, are you?”

Red glanced up, fingers working nimbly over the laces. “A deal’s a deal.”

“But it’s not
my
fault the author wouldn’t sign your book.” Kate struggled for words of reason. “Honestly? He acted a little put-off by the whole book-signing business. Like it was a big inconvenience for him.” Kate turned toward Alycia hoping for her support. After all, Kate spent a good one-fifty a month on cuts, styles, color, product … A little support would be the least her hairstylist could give her. “You can appreciate where I’m coming from, right? He’s … I don’t know … too …”

“Hot?” Alycia answered.

“Single?” said Red, now fully laced and standing.

“Rich?” the drug rep tossed in.

“Full of himself is what I was going to say.”

“You seriously need to lighten up, Kate,” Alycia quipped. “Learn to unwind. Let your hair down. Feel the sea breeze in your face and the earth’s pulse in your soul.”

Kate frowned. The only breeze she wanted to feel came off Bahamian waters. “That’s from one of his books, isn’t it?”

“First chapter, last page of
That Dog Won’t Hunt.”

More books plopped onto the coffee table, leaving Kate feeling as though the weight of each book landed squarely on her shoulders as her guests gathered their belongings and prepared to leave.

“Phone me when you get my copy signed,” Red called over her shoulder. “And don’t try to fake it. I know Stu Summers’ handwriting as good as I know my own.”

Stunned, Kate watched her guests file out, the last pulling the front door behind her. She sank into the couch and tucked her legs under her. Why did every little thing have to be so hard? Why, why, why
?
Kate bowed her head and massaged her temples.

“Problem?”

She looked up. Roger stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Ignoring the question, Kate asked, “Did you get the kitchen cleaned up?”

Her brother took a seat on the futon across from her and leaned forward in a way that suggested Kate was about to get a big brother sermon whether she wanted one or not.

“Where’s the Kate Dad used to brag on?”

“What does
that
mean?”

“
That
Kate wouldn’t take no for an answer. Why not just go back to the store and make him sign the books?”

“Because that’s exactly what he wants me to do,” Kate explained. She whipped out the bookmark tucked into her signed copy and pointed at what appeared to be a handwritten invitation.

“Wow, nice cottage,” Roger remarked. “He’s inviting you down for the weekend?”

“Apparently so.”

“You going?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not, that’s why not.”

Kate watched her brother eyeing the bookmark, turning it over and back. “Summers’ Place,” her brother said under his breath. Roger handed her back the bookmark. “I think you’re overreacting, Sis.”

“Oh you do, do you?”

“Yeah. Maybe he’s just being nice, is all.”

She cut her eyes toward the painting of a sailboat mounted on the far wall—the portrait given to her by her dad when she was twelve. Twirling strands of her dark brown hair between her fingers, she considered her brother’s suggestion. Kate had dated guys like Stu Summers before. Not often and not for long. But in her experience they all operated the same way. First there would be the come on, like what happened on the sidewalk outside the bookstore. The smooth talk and the deep, all-knowing looks suggesting she was the only person on the planet who mattered. Then slowly, over time he would shift his focus from wanting to know what she
thought
to wanting to know what she
looked like
without her clothes on. And because she never let a guy get
that
far, the relationship would end.

“You asked him to sign the books,” her brother was saying. “And he couldn’t because there was what, a store policy? The way I’m reading this bookmark invitation, he’s trying to help you out.”

“Roger, have you forgotten how long a drive it is to the Outer Banks? All day. I can’t just take time off from work to drive to Ocracoke. Not when I’m going to be gone all next week at the stun gun convention. If I were smart I’d return the books, get my money back, and schedule another stun gun party next week to make up for the sales I lost tonight.”

Roger laced his fingers together before pressing the thumbs into each other. “I know the real reason you don’t want to drive down there, and it has nothing to do with you getting off work. You’re just afraid this author fellow might blow your notion that all men are jerks.”

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t
think
all men are jerks.” She paused long enough to pout. “I
know
they are.”

“Other women have trust issues, too, but they don’t go around holding stun gun parties. You want to know what I think?”

“Not really.”

“I think this whole personal protection business is your way of keeping men from getting close to you.”

“That
is
the idea, Rog.”

“You know what I mean.” Roger stood and began putting the living room furniture back where it belonged. “Is he cute?”

“Who?”

“The author, what’s he like?”

“Taller than I’d expected. And yes, he is attractive, in a Dockers jeans commercial sort of way.”