Begin Again
(Ludzecky Sisters #1)
by Kathryn Shay
Blurb:
BEGIN AGAIN tells the story of Paulina Ludzecky who, since her husband died three years ago, runs a contracting business with her twin, Antonia. She’s ready to dip her toes in romance, when she meets Adam Armstrong, the architect on the new music hall her company is building.For Adam, opposites attract and he’s drawn to this no-nonsense, down-to-earth girl next door. She’s equally interested in him though he’s too different from her to settle down with. But alpha male Adam has other plans for Paulina and isn’t about to let her go, even when Paulina has trouble with committing to him. Sex, yes! Love, no! This second chance at love story will tug on your heartstrings.
Available for purchase at
Excerpt
Prologue
The Ludzecky family was well acquainted with tragedy, but
none as horrific as this one.
The matriarch, Donuta Ludzecky, affectionately known as Matka,
sat in the front pew of a Catholic church next to her best friend, Rosie
Pettrone. The woman had suffered the worst loss any mother could have visited
on her—losing a child or, in this case, losing two. Twin boys. Twenty-eight
years old. The driver of a truck had barreled through a red light and crumpled
the front of the car. The boys were killed instantly. They had been married to
Paulina and Antonia, Donuta’s two daughters. Like the good Polish woman that
she was, Donuta sat stalwart, holding back any display of her own emotions. Of
course, she suffered with and for her friend. But she also could not help thinking
of the effect this obscene event would have on her eight children.
Her gaze traveled first to her twin girls, dressed in black,
shoulders hunched, sitting on either side of Rosie. Antonia had dissolved into
tears the moment they had walked into church and had not stopped crying. Lukasz
had to take care of her two-year-old son, who cried into his uncle’s chest.
Paulina, stronger both physically and emotionally than Nia, had slid her arms
around her boys, and remained stone-faced. The crying would come later for her,
Donuta knew. And their lives would never be the same without their men. Donuta
had learned that fact from the death of her own husband when she was in her
forties.
Her gaze landed on Lukasz. He and his wife, Kelsey, had come
down from Binghamton after the accident happened. Their near-perfect lives had
been hard-won, and now their happiness would be shadowed by their sisters’
trauma. And Lukasz would suffer over living four hours away from the family.
Next in age, Caterina was content as a mother, working in linguistics for the
Secret Service, very much in love with her husband Aidan O’Neil. She would want
to protect the girls, which would be impossible. She had already made plans to
stay in Queens with them for three weeks.
Ana, the third oldest, had helped take care of Donuta’s
other children, especially when more babies had come along and Donuta was in
the hospital, giving birth or, twice, with exhaustion. Though Ana was happily
married with one child, she would smother her twin sisters, trying to make
things right for them.
Magdalena, a year younger than Ana, would take over the
logistics. A successful businesswoman, she would try to organize, strategize
and “fix” whatever she could for her sisters. She did not yet know there was no
fixing tragedy, that the girls needed to simply grieve, but Magdalena believed
she could do anything she set her mind to.
And then there was Sofia, who had had tragedy of her own. At
sixteen, she had been diagnosed with leukemia. The treatment had forced her to
give up her dancing aspirations. This one would go into herself unless someone
stopped her. Donuta hoped her quiet daughter, fragile, thin as a willow, could
withstand the sorrow that had come their way.
And last was Elizabeita. Who knew what the baby of the
family would do? Bright enough to be a Rhodes Scholar and earn two degrees at
Oxford, pretty enough to be a model and bold enough to sky dive and jump off
cliffs, the girl had been impossible to control all her life. Donuta worried
about her. How would this one handle the overwhelming grief?
When the priest asked them to stand, Donuta chided herself.
She was thinking about her family’s welfare, and here was poor Rosie, who had
suffered such loss. However, the fact remained: Donuta would be a friend in
every way, but her role as Matka would make her priority her children,
as always.
From the way Adam looked at her when they were seated on the
bench, Paulina knew he was going to kiss her, so she tried to leave the
backyard. But once he’d stopped her, there was no escaping—because she didn’t
want to be anywhere else. His mouth touched hers lightly, brushed over her
lips, and she savored his taste—coffee and a hint of peppermint, which was soon
eclipsed by the essence of him filling her head. After a few seconds, he slid
his arms around her and drew her close. She went easily, willingly and fell
deeper into the kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, and she allowed it,
welcomed it, returned it. His body
aligned perfectly with hers, and he pressed his hips in close. He was hard, and
she was going damp, and she wanted to weep with the sensation. She missed the
scent of a man, his flesh and bones, his unyielding frame. She inhaled him,
crooked her head so he could get better access.
She had no idea how long the embrace went on. All she knew
was that at some point, they were both stepping back, breathing hard, staring
at each other.
“Well!” he said, raking his hand through his hair. She took
pleasure in his loss of composure and consequently wasn’t embarrassed by hers.
“That was unexpected.” “Really? You started it.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He arched a brow. “Besides, you
wanted it.”
“I’m not denying that.”
“What I meant was, the contact was intense. Right away,
without warning. I’m shocked by my reaction.”
Her hand touched her lips as she savored his taste, still on
her. “I enjoyed it. But if you didn’t, that’s okay.” Once more, she started
away. She didn’t have time for games, and if he was rebuffing her again, she
didn’t want to stick around and get her feelings hurt.
“Hold on!” This time he caught her hand, pulled her around
and didn’t let go. “Why do you keep running away?”
She took in a deep breath. “I guess because I can’t read
you. You flirted, asked in an email if we should meet, then said never mind.”
“I did.”
No hedging. No denial. She liked that. “Why?”
“Because I wasn’t sure we should…do anything like this.”
“Adam, it was only a kiss.”
His expression said it was much more than that.
“But I liked it,” she continued. “Still, don’t worry. I’m
not asking you for anything.”
Jamming his hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his
heels. “What if I want something?”
“Damn it, Adam, just say what you mean. What you want. I
don’t have time for or interest in being coy.”
“Let’s go out.”
She watched him.
“You’ve dated since your husband died, right?”
“No, but recently I made a decision that I wanted to get
into the…the swing of things.
I’m seeing someone tonight for supper and a movie.”
His brows knit together. “Is it serious?”
“I met him on first base.”
“Excuse me?”
She laughed at her expression. “At a softball game. I got a
hit, and he…never mind all that.”
“So, you’re a free agent, so to speak.”
And would
probably stay one. But she’d like to see this man. “I am, but I’m not interested
in anything serious. Just some fun.” Some hot sex. She didn’t say that
aloud, thank God. Though she knew one thing: she was attracted to him big-time.
“Have dinner
with me this weekend.”
“Sofia’s taking
the boys on Sunday for the day. I could do an early dinner.”
“All right.
I’ll pick you up at five.” He added, “Wear something nice, but no ball
gowns.”
Did he think he had to tell her what to wear? What was all
that about? Maybe it was nothing. She just wasn’t used to this dating scene.
Had never really been in it. He was probably being thoughtful.
“Hey, Paulie,
you back here?” Frank’s voice came from the end of the yard.
She said, “I
have to go.”
He grasped her
arm again. “Would you wear your hair down Sunday?”
“Maybe. Let’s
wait and see.”
(Ludzecky Sisters Series, #2)
by Kathryn Shay
Blurb:
In PRIMARY COLORS, Nia Ludzecky Pettrone is stuck in her grief and can’t find a way out of her sorrow over the untimely death of her beloved husband. Then she meets famous modern artist Rafe Castle, and she’s intrigued by his gentle demeanor and lack of arrogance. When he shows interest in giving her son the confidence and skills to nurture his budding art talent, she starts falling for him. Still, she finds it hard to leave the past behind and embrace love after loss.
Rafe is definitely interested in a relationship with Nia. If he has his way, she’ll come to love him and he vows to be patient. But when she rejects him in the most elemental of ways, can he control the comparison to past hurts she resurrects for him?
Available for purchase at
Excerpt
PRIMARY COLORS
Simultaneously,
Ben and Tommy jumped up, fists in the air. “Yes!”
Sal sat demurely in his little first
grade chair and blushed.
From
the gathering of parents and guests off to the side, Nia watched her son,
wishing he was outgoing like his cousins but loving him to pieces anyway.
“Sal.” The deep male voice of the man
at the microphone was filled with excitement. “Come up and get your prize.”
Rafael
Castle gave a megawatt smile, making Paulina take in a breath. From beside her,
Adam Armstrong leaned in. “Watch it, girl. You’re taken.”
Paulina
laughed. “Yeah, but not dead.”
She’d been so happy all summer, now
that her relationship with Adam was blossoming. They’d met when their company,
Pettrone and Ludzecky Builders, had gotten the bid on a music hall that he’d
designed. Surprisingly, Nia had taken a liking to the man despite the fact that
he lived in a different world from the family. It seemed that every time she
saw him and Paulina together, they were closer. And he’d treated Sal just like
Paulina’s boys—kind and gentle, always calm.
Making his way to the
front, Sal stood before Rafe Castle, looking up and now smiling broadly. Nia
had heard a lot about the man who’d come to Benjamin Franklin Elementary School
as an artist in residence for two weeks. She’d voted at the PTA meeting for him
to be chosen because his artwork seemed so alive. Sal talked about him often…
Mom, he said I got talent.
Mom,
he used my picture as an example.
Mom,
he loves my work.
She’d
been so grateful to the artist for helping bring her son out of his shell, for
making him feel good about himself, even before she’d gotten an email from him:
Dear Mrs. Pettrone, Your son Sal is one
of the most talented artists of a young age I’ve ever seen. After the Art Fair,
can we talk?
Responding
in the affirmative, Nia was thrilled, and anxious to hear what he had to say.
The
grades were separated in the large gym, and Sal watched as the other winners
were awarded their prizes. And he cheered heartily for them. He’s such a nice kid, she thought for
the hundredth time. Peter would have been so proud. Though her husband had been
a jock, he’d have celebrated his son’s success in art, where Sal had
inexplicably shown both interest and talent. It had been one of the many things
she’d loved about Peter. Sometimes, at events like this, the hole in her heart
became a gaping chasm and she struggled against the emotion.
When
the formal part of the presentation was over, Rafe said, “Now mingle,
everybody. See what stellar work your classmates have done.” Displays of
student art lined the walls. “And parents, please browse, too. Congratulations to
them all.”
The
groups disbanded, and three little dark-haired, dark-eyed boys ran to where the
Ludzecky family had gathered.
Sal threw himself into Nia’s arms.
“Mommy, I won!”
“I
know, sweetheart. Congratulations.”
Sneaking
around his mother, Ben went up to Adam and gave him a high-five. “We didn’t
win. Mom told us last night we have other talents.”
“But
we’re glad Sal won,” Tommy put in. “I like his drawings.”
Adam
ruffled Sal’s hair. “We’re happy for you, kid.”
Nia glanced up to see Rafe Castle
approaching them. Before he greeted any of them, he knelt down so he was
eye-level with Sal. How thoughtful.
“You did good, Salvador. Just like your namesake.”
“What’s
a namesake?” Ben asked.
Sal
announced proudly, “Who you’re named after.”
“Our
Uncle Salvador?”
A
male chuckle from the artist. “Nope. I told him I bet he has roots going back
to Salvador Dali, the famous twentieth-century artist.”
“Like
you, Rafe.” Nia noticed Sal used his first name. “You said maybe you got roots
to…who was it?”
“A
painter from the Renaissance time period. Raphael Sanzio da Urbino.”
“Yeah,
that’s him.”
Standing,
Rafe turned his gaze to Nia. “Mrs. Pettrone?”
Nia
cleared her throat. Though she’d seen pictures of him online since the school
chose him for this position, his physical presence was daunting. Those navy
eyes focused on her, increasing their effect. “Yes, I’m Sal’s mother.”
“You’re
son’s very talented.”
“So
you said.”
“Rafe?”
Castle’s
brows rose. “Adam? Hello.”
“You
know my teacher, Adam?” Sal asked.
“We’ve
met. And I saw his show at the Mitchell Gallery. I bought The Dragon Within. His work is amazing. So individualistic.”
“What
does that mean?” Ben wanted to know.
“That
everybody gets something different out of it,” Adam explained.
Her
sister held out her hand. “I’m Paulina Pettrone.”
When
he got a look at Paulina, Rafe startled. “Wow, two of you? How do the men in
the world stand it when you’re together?”
“Excuse
me?” This from Nia.
“You
must bowl them over.”
Paulina
rolled her eyes. “It was a compliment, Nia. Say thanks.” She focused on the
boys. “Let’s go see everybody’s art before we have to leave. Nia, take your
time in getting back to work. No rush.”
“Could
Sal go with you?” Rafe asked. “I’d like to speak to Mrs. Pettrone in private.”
Nia
stepped back.
“It’s
all positive stuff.”
The
four of them left, and Nia folded her arms across her chest, watching Rafe
Castle. His dark hair was long and curly, and he carried himself in the
confident, masculine way that men who looked like him seemed to have. “What did
you want to talk about?”
“Salvador.”
“I
appreciated your letter.”
“I
meant every word, and more. Did you notice how his paintings and drawings
evolved the last two weeks?”
“Yes,
I did. Some got more realistic. Some more abstract. I liked the latter best.”
His eyes glistened
like sapphires, as if she’d said the right thing. “I have a proposal for you.
I’d like to continue working with Sal. Free of charge.”
“Why
on earth would you do that? Adam said you were hot.”
He
winked at her. “I am.”
“Oh,
I meant your reputation. But back to Sal.”
“He’s
a prodigy. And that kind of talent needs to be cultivated.”
Feeling
guilt take root inside her, she sighed. “I’ve thought about getting him art
lessons, but we’re so busy…”
“I’ll
come to your house. And yes, I’d expect an adult to supervise us, so you’d have
to arrange that.”
“We
live with my mother and sister. It wouldn’t be too hard to get coverage.” She
raised her chin. “But I insist I pay.”
“Then
I retract the offer.”
“What?”
“I
won’t take your money.”
“Mr.
Castle, I might be a widow, but we have enough funds to live on.”
His
gaze darkened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know Sal’s father died. He’s only talked
about you, but…please, accept my condolences.”
Nia
could feel her face redden. “No, let me apologize. I jumped the gun. The boys
told us some things they overheard people saying about them not having a dad,
and I’m too sensitive.”
“I
don’t think you can be too sensitive about your kids.” He cocked his head. “So,
the lessons?”
“I’ll
think about it.”
His
brows rose, indicating surprise at her statement. “All right.” He took out a
card and handed it to her. “Let me know.”
“One
thing, Mr. Castle. Thanks for not asking in front of Sal.”
“Of
course not. We’re buddies. He’ll want to do this. But it’s your decision. I
respect that.”
“Do
you have kids?”
“No,
never married. So none yet.” A big male grin. “Someday, though.”
As he walked away,
Nia stared at his long male stride. And okay, his butt, encased in soft denim,
and his broad shoulders in a chamois shirt. But that wasn’t the matter at hand.
Now, once again, she’d have to make the right choice for her child alone. She
wished Peter was here to help with that and a million other things. Which was
enough to worry about. But more pressing was the issue that Nia had not gotten
beyond her grief enough to move on like Paulina had and that was as big an
issue as the solo responsibility she now had.
Excerpt #2
“I remember.” When he didn’t say more,
she batted her eyes like Elizabeita did when she flirted. “Mr. Castle, are you
asking me to come up and see your etchings?” The old line for seduction.
“Well,
Ms. Pettrone, my intention was more honorable until you said that, but I’m up
for anything.”
Was
she? Right now, Nia felt like she was.
He
watched her. When she didn’t move, he took her hand. “Come up to my place. I do
want to show you something.”
They
walked faster down the two blocks, still holding hands. Once inside his
building, they took the elevator in silence and Rafe unlocked the door to his
loft.
Nia
entered first. “I’m still stunned by how big this place is.”
“I
don’t need all this space, but Jonas loved the openness.”
“It
suits you, Rafe.”
He
turned to her. “Why is that?”
“You’re
larger than life and not because you’re famous. It’s your personality. You’re
joie de vivre. You live in primary colors.” And her tones ran from cream to
beige and often times gray.
“What
a nice way to put it. Jonas said I take pleasure in everything.”
“After
a difficult childhood, that’s amazing.” He
was amazing.
“Now
I’m embarrassed.”
Taking
her hand, he tugged her to the studio. Several easels stood guard around the
room. Two canvases were started. Another was covered with a cloth, and he
crossed to it. “Stand about five feet away. Face the other side of the room.”
“Why?”
“I’m
going to show you something I did the night you were at my loft. But I want to
see your face when you first get a look at it.”
Nia
turned to the collection on the opposite wall. The easels there sported
scarlets and yellows, peacock blue and pinks.
Rustling,
scraping. Then, “Okay, turn around.”
Pivoting
back, Nia gasped. Oh, my God. She
almost couldn’t take it in. Slowly, she walked closer to the canvas. Studied
the way the sky gave way to her image—which was…unbelievable. Every feature was
right. And every feature was wrong. He’d drawn her as a sensual siren, floating
out of the clouds. The glint in her eyes was unfamiliar.
“I
don’t understand. This isn’t me, in so many ways.”
“It’s
how I see you, I guess.”
“Rafe,
this woman is so…sensual. Sexy. So not me.”
“I
think it is. Or had been. Or might be.” He stepped closer, cupped her jaw. “Let
me prove that to you, Nia.”
Nia’s
first instinct was to run. Fast and far away. Her heart raced, and her palms
began to sweat. But she glanced at the painting again, and suddenly, she knew
she wasn’t going to leave. So she moved closer and said, “Take me to bed,
Rafael.”
(Ludzecky Sisters Series #3)
by Kathryn Shay
Blurb:
Magdalena Ludzecky is a career woman extraordinaire. A child prodigy, she’s worked her way into a successful private equity firm by the time she was twenty-four. Seven years later, she’s still the gentle, good-hearted sister who hasn’t forgotten her roots, but in business she’s a force to be reckoned with. She’s a woman who has everything, including Logan Price, her coworker and her best friend outside of the family. They support each other through tragedy and loss, vacation together and make million dollar deals together.
But suddenly, they find attraction growing between them. And no, they both think, this can’t happen! They like the status quo. An office romance is unthinkable. It doesn’t seem to be up to them, though, as fate intervenes and brings them together as lovers. Yet fate can be cruel, too, and pulls them apart when Logan’s circumstances change dramatically. Does this friends to lovers romance have a chance or are Logan and Magdalena going to lose each other forever?
Available for purchase at
Excerpt
RISKY BUSINESS
Excerpt 1
“I think we have what we need for our due diligence, Mr.
Holland.” Magdalena smiled graciously at the owner of The Natural Life stores.
“I hope you’re as excited as we are about the potential investment in your
company by Price and Associates.” Magdalena had joined the private-equity after
graduate school.
The
owner held her gaze. “Mostly, it feels like I’m handing my first born off to
someone else to raise.”
She
gave him a sympathetic look. “Most of the companies we do business with have
that initial reaction. Maybe you could look at it as sending your child off to
school, where others can invest their time, energy and money into him.”
Carter
Holland nodded. “So, where do we go from here?”
“Price
and Associates analyze all the documents and visit more stores.”
Logan sat forward. “Ms. Ludzecky and I
are both operational analysts.” The Power
Team, they’d been called by the media. “We’ll analyze your strengths and
weaknesses to make sure we want to invest, but we don’t get to this phase
without being fairly certain we do.”
“And
you’ll complete a management assessment, correct?”
“Yes.”
This was Logan’s baby. “We’ll evaluate your staff and see if there’s any
overlap or duplication of effort within the stores or in upper management.”
There most likely would be layoffs, which Holland had to know.
Once
again, Magdalena admired her colleague and friend for being able to handle the
personnel task with emotional aplomb. She was glad she didn’t have to do that
part of the assessment, though she’d be consulted.
After
answering a few more questions, Logan stood. “We’ll be in touch about our
decision. Before that, if we need anything else from you. One promise I can
make is that we’ll be fair and save as many jobs as we can.”
“Which
is why I want to work with your firm.” He stood and so did Magdalena.
She
offered her hand first. “Thank you for your time. I’m sure we can take that
baby of yours to greater heights than you could alone.”
“I
hope so.”
“You
won’t be sorry, Mr. Holland,” Logan told him.
Together,
they left the office and soon stood on the streets of New York’s Financial
District. Magdalena didn’t live too far from here. Early January sported one of
its sunny winter days, so she and Logan stopped to talk. “He’s nervous,” she
said, glancing back at the building.
“All
owners are when they want to grow their business and go with private-equity
investment. But Price wouldn’t be pursuing the company if we didn’t think it
was good for all of us.”
She
squeezed his arm. “Of course we wouldn’t. And I know you’re not crazy about the
layoffs.”
Pointedly,
he took a bead on her. “Then why don’t you do this part?”
“Because
you got your undergrad in human resources. Mine’s in finance.” Checking her
watch, she saw it was 1:00 p.m. “Want to get something to eat with me and Ana?”
“No
thanks. I have a lunch date.”
Having worked with
him for seven years, Magdalena rolled her eyes. “I know what that means.
Shall I bring a sandwich back to the office for you?”
“I’ll
have you know, Teresa and I are eating
this time. She has to be at the theater early to go over some dances with the
choreographer.” Logan dated the current star of All of Me, the hottest ticket on Broadway. Magdalena liked the
woman, though from what he said about her, she could be mercurial in her moods.
Logan called it artistic temperament.
“You’re
good at finding time for other business,”
she teased.
“Stop.”
Though he liked a variety of women in his life, Logan was good-hearted and
never duped any of them into thinking the relationship would last forever. He
also didn’t give that heart of his to anyone. Often, Magdalena wondered why.
They
both crossed to the curb. “Why’s Ana in town?”
Her
older sister was the Dean of Admissions at Mount Mary’s in Brooklyn and was
often in the city for her job. She still lived in the other borough, in the
same house she once shared with Jared the Jerk.
“A
recruiting fair.”
“How
is she, Mags? I know you worry about her.”
“Because
she’s bitter and still very sad, even after more than two years. Why wouldn’t I
worry?”
“It’s
never what it appears on the surface, why people break up.”
Because
she loved Logan in many ways, she listened to him. “You’re right. Have a good
lunch.”
He
hailed a cab and she took out her phone. As she watched him get into the taxi,
which always seemed to come right away for him, she could see why women flocked
to him. Six three, all muscles with sky blue eyes, he was a stunner. For the
hundredth time, she was grateful she was immune to his charms. She much rather
preferred to have him in her life as a friend she could count on.
And
she could. In every way.
oOo
Logan
climbed into the cab and waved good-bye to Magdalena. He was always shocked
that cars didn’t crash into each other when she was on the street. She had to
be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known. That luscious hair in curls
down to her waist. Those tawny eyes. She was the picture of loveliness.
Who
was not for him. There’d be too much competition for her attention. And he’d
never want to lose her as a friend. Then there was the fact that they were
colleagues. It would be difficult to have romantic feelings for her. Turning
his thoughts to Teresa Allen, he smiled. Now, she was perfect for him, at this
point in his life anyway.
He
saw her waiting outside the theater. She waved to motion the cab over. When he
exited, he embraced her. She went willingly, fully and gave him a big kiss on
the mouth. “Hello.”
“Hi,
babe.” They walked to the restaurant two doors down from the theater. Once
inside, they sat and she scanned the menu.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Always.
Order some red meat so I can have a slice.”
Because
she was a dancer and singer in addition to an actor, she was scrupulous about
her diet. “Already had some this week?”
“Once,
my limit. But I’ll cheat with a tiny slice.”
They talked about the
play and the changes they were making in the choreography. All of Me had
been a big hit, but the choreographer was noted for his perfection. “Will you
come to see it again?”
“Of
course.”
Excerpt 2
Sitting
back, she took a pillow and clutched it to her chest. She was shaky from his
touch. Vulnerable. A sudden bolt of fear shot through her. “I don’t want to
ruin things between us, Logan.”
“Are you sure we would if we took this
further?”
It was her turn to shake her head. “I
guess the question is, do we want to risk it?”
“Do you want to pursue this?”
“I think it should be a joint
decision.”
“Based on?”
She arched a brow. “I don’t know. Probability of success? We spend our days assessing that at work.”
She arched a brow. “I don’t know. Probability of success? We spend our days assessing that at work.”
“Okay. Let’s figure this out logically,
like the business people we are.”
Hunching over, he put his hands on the
coffee table. His back was impossibly tense. “Sixty percent of all marriages
end in divorce. Thomas is separated, by the way.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Workplace romances have dire
consequences unless the people get married. Often, even then, their jobs go
south.”
She grimaced. “That doesn’t sound very
promising. I love my job.”
“I do, too. We have to set priorities.”
Magdalena stomach knotted. “What’s most
important to me is to have you in my life, Logan. I don’t want to lose that.”
“Yeah, kind of like that saying you use.
‘Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.’”
“Right. Things are great now between
us. I’m afraid that will change.”
Straightening, he faced her. “Then I
don’t think we should let this go further. I don’t want to take the chance.”
The disappointment was almost
overwhelming. Still she eked out, “All right.”
“You sure you agree?”
“I do, Logan. I promise, I’d tell you
the truth about something so important. I am disappointed. More than. But this
is the right thing to do.”
He stood. “I’m going to take a shower.”
He shook his head. “A cold one. When I return, we start over. Let’s not ever
mention what happened.” He held out his hand. “Deal, partner?”
“It’s a deal, Logan.” She meant it,
though she held on to him a little longer than she should.
And as she watched him leave, she knew
she hadn’t lied to him. She did think this was for the best. She just wished
she didn’t feel sad about it.
(Ludzecky Sisters Series #4)
by Kathryn Shay
Blurb:
Ana Ludzecky had it all—a sexy husband, a beautiful daughter, her dream house and the best extended family in the world. Then, tragedy strikes them and her life turns upside down. Unable to bear the suffering of her sisters, she makes some bad choices that eventually lead to the dissolution of her marriage.
Dr. Jared Creswell, a professor at Mount Mary College, always believed he and Ana would last forever. He’s never loved anybody like he loved her. But a year after the tragedy, she’s still suffering because of the horrific events her family suffered. Jared weakens and makes the biggest mistake of his life.
When their daughter is stricken with a rare kidney disorder, both Ana and Jared must come together to see her through this difficult time. Will his and Ana’s past love be rekindled or have they put it out forever? You’ll root for these two who’ve been dealt a bad hand in life and are trying to find their second chance at love.
Available for purchase at
Excerpt
THE WAY WE WERE
Excerpt 1 Valentine’s Day
“The
dinner was awesome, Daddy.” Opal smiled at her father like she always did, as
if he’d hung the moon.
“I’m
glad you liked it, princess.”
“Mom
does, too.” Her dark-haired, green-eyed daughter looked over at Ana. “Right,
Mom?”
“Yep,
my favorite of all your dad’s dishes.”
“Did
you know, Opalinski”—his Polish nickname for her—“that I made this meal for
Mom the first Valentine’s Day after you were born?” Opal had turned ten in
October.
“How
come you didn’t go out for dinner?”
Ana
steeled her heart against the story and transferred her gaze to the family
room, where a fire blazed in the hearth and could be seen from the table in the
kitchen. Jared had been living here because Opal had to have surgery in a week
and he’d insisted he be close to her. Ana had nixed the idea of Opal at his house;
instead, he’d moved into the home they used to share. But it was harder than
she imagined it would be. These reminiscences were as difficult to listen to as
much as rereading the notes Jared, a literary man, had written to her all their
lives together.
“We had a babysitter all lined up—Aunt
Magdalena. But when she got here, your mother started to cry.” His expression,
when he turned to Ana, was the one he used to give her when he loved her. “She
didn’t want to leave you on your first Valentine’s Day. So I went out to the
store, got ingredients for this dish, and we ate at home.”
And,
Ana thought, made sweet love that night. Memories of how good they were
together devastated her, so she stood. “I’ll clean up.”
Jared’s
gaze intensified. God, it wasn’t fair that he looked better at thirty-nine than
when she’d met him. He had a touch of gray hair at his temples, but it made his
eyes stand out like emeralds, even when he wore his glasses. “Does that have to
be done right away?”
She
pretended to inspect Opal. Both her height and her slender frame mirrored
Jared’s more than Ana’s. And now her face was tense. “I think our daughter is
tired.”
As if the suggestion made it so, Opal’s
shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I guess.” She bit her lip. “I can’t wait till this is
all over.”
Her
rare kidney disorder made it necessary to move the ureter from the top to the
bottom of her kidney, which would prevent the fluid buildup she was now
suffering. Problem was, she’d lose most of the function in that kidney.
“I
know this has been hard for you, honey.” Jared stood and kissed the top of her
head. “How about if you get ready for bed, and you and I read some?”
“Will
you do all those voices in Huckleberry
Finn?”
“I’d
love to.”
Their
daughter left the room, and they heard her footsteps on the stairs. Ana crossed
quickly to the sink with dishes in her hands. She began rinsing them, but the
gravity of Opal’s situation hit her at the oddest times. Combined with Jared’s
trip down memory lane, emotion welled up and clogged her throat. Please don’t let me cry.
Unaware
of her emotional state, Jared began to clear the table. When he brought his and
Opal’s plates to the sink, he stopped. She knew her body had begun to shake.
“Annie.” His pet name for her. He moved in
close so his front, his heat touched her. His hands went to her shoulders. “You
don’t have to suffer alone. Please, let me comfort you. Let’s comfort each
other.”
Without
her mind’s conscious consent, she leaned back against him. She couldn’t help
it. Because she did that, he slid his arms around her waist and held her to
him. His breath at her ear, he said, “We can get through this together. I
promise.”
Though
she knew he’d made a lot of promises he hadn’t kept, she let herself believe
this one. She had to. She’d expended all her strength on getting through the
past two weeks since Opal’s diagnosis.
This
time, he kissed her hair.
Then,
loudly, too loudly, she heard, “Dad, I’m done… What’s going on?”
Jared
stepped away. Ana straightened. “Just helping Mom clean up.” He cleared his
throat. “I’ll be right up.”
Ana
could hear that Opal didn’t move. So she ducked out from in front of Jared and
pasted a smile on her face. “You look cute in those new jammies Aunt Mags gave
you.” Red and black, they had dogs on them.
“Yeah,
to take to the hospital.” Again, she bit her lip. Looked as if Ana wasn’t the
only emotional one tonight. Crossing to her daughter, she embraced her.
Ana wished she could keep her child close,
not turn her over to doctors who would operate on her. But she couldn’t; she
had to be strong. “I promise we’ll be there for you, Opal. You’re not alone in
this.”
“Daddy,
too?” she asked in a whisper.
Ana
glanced at Jared. His face was taut and he’d gone stiff. She could tell he was
as worried as she. “Yes, Daddy, too. I promise. We both promise.”
Excerpt
Excerpt 2
Two nights later, Jared was in a gloomy
mood so he went to the workout room and dropped down on a bench. He remembered
when they’d built this space, enclosing a section of the huge garage,
outfitting it with weights, a treadmill and eventually an elliptical and
stretching bar. Better to think about that than the fact that Ana had a date
tonight. That she’d be with another man. The thought of her letting someone
else kiss her, touch her had driven him crazy when they divorced, but he’d
learned to block it. Since Opal had brought her into his life again, the demons
had returned.
Instead
of concentrating on the number of arm curls he was doing with free weights, he
pictured Ana letting him hold her at
the hospital when she was so frightened she could barely tolerate it. He saw
her take his hand, insinuate hers in his, like she used to when he needed
support. He remembered how she smiled at him during their days at home, and
once in a while, unconsciously, he thought, how she touched his shoulder or his
back. They were being circumspect, trying not to let on that something was
different, but it was hard when all he wanted to do was clasp her to him during
the night and claim her body with his. Hell. He was acting like the men in a
D.H. Lawrence novel. Arrgh! He resisted the urge to throw the barbell across
the floor. Instead, he transferred it to the other fist and kept pumping. One,
two, three…
“Hi.”
As if he’d conjured her, she stood at the
doorway, wearing the red-sequined outfit again. His gaze narrowed, taking in
every detail. Christ, it clung to her in all the right places—gloving her
breasts, nipping in at the waist. The beige heeled boots she wore with it made
her appear taller, more willowy. More feminine, as if she needed that.
“Hi.”
He raked his gaze down her outfit. “Deja vu.”
“I
know. I don’t have a lot of dressy things to choose from.” She flipped back her
hair, which she’d let fall down her back, then gestured to the weights. “Didn’t
you do those yesterday? You’re supposed to take a day off in between.”
What
a wifely thing to say.
He
set the barbell down and dropped his hands to either side of him on the bench.
“I did. And you’re right about alternating. But I found I needed physical
exercise tonight.” He was sure the expression of distaste was on his face, but
he couldn’t hide it. When she stared right back at him, he added, “Because of
what we decided. Because after that, you’re going out on a date.”
“We
decided to see how things went
between us, Jared. Besides, we didn’t commit to not seeing other people.”
His
jaw tensed. “I thought that was understood.”
“Maybe
we should see others. To keep this in perspective.”
“Hmm.”
She
waited. Finally, “What are you thinking?”
He
fought against his macho side—and lost. He stood. “That if we’re going to see
others, we should be sure to keep our eyes on the goal, too.” The silkiness in
his voice was evident.
“What
do you mean?” But the expression on her face told him she knew.
He
took a step toward her. Her eyes widened. Another step. Two. Until he was in
front of her and she had to look up at him. “We don’t want you to forget what
we’re trying to do here, do we, Ana?” His pitch dropped and came out throaty.
Hoarse. “To see if we can get back together.”
She
shook her head, but her breath hitched.
“So,
sweetheart. Get ready.”
“F-for
what?”
“For not forgetting about us tonight when you’re on a date with another man.”
“For not forgetting about us tonight when you’re on a date with another man.”
Gently,
he placed his hands on her shoulders, and she leaned into him. Her scent,
French perfume that she wore years ago, filled his head. He whispered in her
ear, “I’m going to kiss you.”
“I
can see that.”
“Do
you want me to?”
“I—I
don’t know. We said we wouldn’t rush into anything.”
Lifting
his arm, he ran his knuckles down her cheek. She shivered. Ah, that was nice.
“Yeah, but I gotta stay in the game, so to speak.”
The
corners of her mouth turned up. “I wouldn’t want to handicap you.”
“So,
I ask again. Can I kiss you, Annie?”
“Yes,
but—”
He
drew her against him before she put caveats on her permission. His body
remembered hers—the curves and indentations, the solidness; he melded to her in
all the right places. He’d hugged her at the hospital, held her in his arms
there, but this was the first time in over two years that she came to him as a
woman.
She
looped her arms around his neck.
Moved
in.
Their
legs tangled. Her hips pressed into his.
Then
she stood on tiptoes. It was all the invitation he needed. His grasp on her
tightened and he lifted her up. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across
hers. Back and forth. Back and forth. She moaned, gripped his neck now.
“More?”
he asked against her mouth.
“More,”
she whispered.
He
fully aligned their bodies and devoured her. He probed her lips open and
explored her. God he’d forgotten the sweet taste of her. When she did the same,
his head burst with sensation. This was Ana. His Ana, in his arms. Kissing him back.
And
it went on…and on…
A
shrill sounded from the front of the house, intruding on the isolated cocoon
they occupied. It took them both a few moments to part. Her eyes sparked with
deep, genuine emotion. He knew his did, too. He was hard, and her nipples
peaked under the dress. They were both gloriously aroused.
She
took in a deep breath.
The
bell sounded again.
He
arched a brow. “You’d better get that. It’s your date.” His tone was amused,
and her gaze narrowed on him.
“You
did this on purpose.”
“Guilty
as charged.” He chucked her under the chin. “Now, go answer the door.”
Clearly
miffed, she turned. When she reached the archway, he said, “Ana?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t
forget this.”
“As
if I could,” she said under her breath.
“What
was that?”
“Nothing.”
But
he’d heard her. Very loud and very clear.
(Ludzecky Sisters Series #5)
by Kathryn Shay
Blurb:
Of all the Ludzecky sisters, Sofia is the calmest one. She’s had to be. Diagnosed with leukemia at sixteen, the disease has affected her entire life. When bad things have happened to her—her father’s death, her Secret Service sister and brother getting shot, the deaths of her brothers-in-law--Sofia has gone into herself and found the strength to help them out and also take care of herself. The easy going, laid back lifestyle suits her and she likes it. Her chosen profession is as a yoga instructor and owner of Serenity Yoga, which enhances this way of living.
Football Coach Max Walker doesn’t know what to make of this sweet, demure and pretty woman who is hired by his high school to teach yoga to students. But he’s part of the Physical Education department and has to deal with her every day. Soon he comes to learn how special she is, and though he steered clear of romance with another teacher, he’s drawn to her. But she shies away from him—big time. Why? Women usually flock to Max.
Little does he know that his outgoing personality, his rabid bent for competition and his boisterous athletic family upset her. Opposites attract is not true in her case. But Max wants her, and he’s always gotten what he wants.
Available for purchase at
Excerpt
HANDLE WITH CARE
Excerpt
Sofia calmed herself with rhythmic breathing and stared out
the window of Eastside High School’s faculty lounge. Snow covered the ground.
Many people hated the weather at this time of year, but not her. She treasured
every season’s dawn and end. When she was sixteen, she hadn’t thought she’d
experience very many of them again.
From behind, she heard, “Sofia?”
Max Walker had returned. She’d come to the school for a
meeting with him and the vice principal and encountered a fight they’d just
broken up in the hall. Since she and Max had to wait for the VP to deal with
the perpetrators, Max escorted her to the teachers’ cafeteria and detoured to
get her tea. The respite from his presence had allowed her to even out her
reaction to him. Now he was back.
Turning, she saw him there, this big jock who was probably
intimidating to most people. She herself was thrown by the impact of his
physicality and his machismo in, well, a feminine way. She nodded to the cup of
steaming water he set down. “Thanks.”
They sat and she fished some herbal tea out of her purse.
“Always carry that?” he asked, extending out his legs as if
his body required special accommodation most people didn’t need.
She, for example, perched on the chair, sat straight up,
spine long, neck relaxed. “I do. I have to be careful of what I eat.”
He tried to stifle the snort. “No Garbage Grub for you,
huh?”
At the mention of the fat-filled, bad-for-your-arteries
popular dish, she shuddered inwardly. “No, none.” And changed the subject.
“I’ve wondered how your staff is reacting to the yoga classes I’m teaching in
the fall. As head of the Physical Education Department, you’d know by now.”
“Mostly positive. The female PE teachers especially. One guy
is definitely not on board.”
“Let me guess, Mr. Cook.”
Dark brows rose. “How’d you know?”
“I was a student here and had him in class. He used to make
snide comments about boys taking Home Economics or whatever they call it now.”
“Family and Consumer Sciences. I didn’t know you went to Eastside.”
“I did.” Though a lot of what she remembered was her
illness. For her last two years, she’d struggled with the horror of trying to
do schoolwork and not give up because of the cruel anxiety and physical side
effects of the leukemia treatment. Thank God she’d found yoga after she’d had
to give up dance.
“Not a pleasant experience?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Your face. It’s expressive.”
“Ah. I was sick, but I’d prefer not to talk about that, Mr.
Walker.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. His nice mouth.
“Max. We’re gonna be working together.”
“You’re the football coach here, too, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, and I hope to keep the job for a while.”
“Aren’t you good?”
He winked. “Darlin’, I’m great.”
She rolled her eyes. “I meant how’s the team doing?”
“We had a losing season last year. A bad one. Most of
the players on our winning teams graduated. It was like starting over. I’m
praying for success this year, but they have to be in the right mindset.”
“There are ways to help that along.”
“Sure, I know. The kids are lifting weights with me all
winter. And we have a football camp in the summer. Practice starts in August.”
“I didn’t mean your skill preparation or muscle building.”
“What did you mean?”
“Your players should do breathing exercises, centering meditations,
in addition to stretches and isometrics.”
He laughed out loud, and heads turned to look at him.
“That’s namby-pamby for us jocks, don’t you think?”
It was her turn to laugh—at him—though she was quieter about
it. “Seriously? You still use words like that? It’s the twenty-first century.”
He scowled. “Words like what?”
“Let’s see. Pansy. Sissy. Not to mention the more hurtful
ones that are feminist put-downs or gender-orientation slurs.”
His gaze turned glacial. “I’m not bigoted. I think yoga is
too easy, no, not that, too tame for my guys.”
“And for you?”
“Uh-huh.”
She nodded to his leg. “As soon as we started talking about
the team, your knee started bobbing. Fast.”
“Yeah, my mother always said it was a telltale sign of…” He
trailed off. “I get it, you think I could use all that stuff you just
mentioned.”
“Yes. Everyone can benefit from it. But I’ve been doing some
research on yoga for high school kids. Athletes are the number one group they
cite for needing yoga practice.”
“That can’t be true, lady.”
“You really should watch your language, Coach. You didn’t
mean lady kindly.”
“Christ.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry we’re getting off on the wrong foot,
Max. All I was suggesting was that you and your team could be better if you did
yoga poses and breathing exercises. I was hoping some of the guys would sign up
for the fall session.”
“Ain’t gonna happen.”
“Obviously not, with you as a role model.”
He sat up straight and his fist clenched on the table.
Leaning in, she put her hand over it and felt the tension.
She was surprised he didn’t snatch it back. “Again, I apologize. We have a
difference of opinion on this. I won’t bring it up again.”
“Yeah, sure, that’d be okay.”
“On one condition.”
Now his gaze narrowed. “What?”
“Come to Serenity Yoga, my studio. Take a few classes. They
don’t have to be from me. But we’ll do it free of charge. If your experience
there doesn’t convince you that you’re not in as good shape as you think, I’ll
be silenced till the end of time.”
As soon as she touched him, Max went off-kilter. He stared
at their hands, her small one covering his big paw. Both strength and comfort
transferred from her to him. He couldn’t explain it. He raised his head. It was
a mistake. She wasn’t exactly pretty, though the long hair, hanging down her
back in a braid, was probably stunning spread across a guy’s pillow. In her
eyes, he saw…what the hell was that? Confidence. Security. Ah…peace. Which he
longed for all of a sudden.
“Max?”
“Sorry. You’re disturbing me.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“No, that’s okay. So, let’s go over this again. You want me
to take some yoga classes at the studio where you work. See if I think it can
help my players, what? Be better at football?”
“Yes, they wouldn’t be the first.”
Cocking his head, he watched her.
“You know who Ray Lewis, Victor Cruz and Vernon Davis are?”
“Yeah sure. They play for the Baltimore Ravens, the New York
Giants and the San Francisco 49ers.”
Approval in her eyes. Hell, he couldn’t believe he liked it.
Because he didn’t much like her.
“They all take or took yoga.”
“Seriously?” Though, even as he said the word, he remembered
reading something about that.
“LeBron James and Shaquille, too. They’re athletes who
turned to yoga to learn stretching, focus and body awareness.”
Max didn’t know what to say, so he shut his trap.
“The basketball coach from Duke did, too, and they recently
won a NCAA championship. When asked how he stayed so calm, he said it was
because he practiced yoga.”
Feeling at a disadvantage, he did what all guys do when put
on the spot. He went on defense. “You came prepared for this little game, Ms.
Ludzecky. I’m not in shape for the argument.”
“Sofia,” she said, mimicking his earlier reference to using
his first name. “And yes, I came prepared.”
Max watched her. Suddenly, he realized having her in his department,
even for a few classes a week, wasn’t going to be harmless like he’d thought.
And the notion bothered him a lot. He looked down. Shit! His knee was bobbing
again.
Sofia practically danced up the stairs to her place over the
studio. Behind her, Max’s steps sounded light, too. He’d said, rather
implacably, at the end of the night, I’m gonna follow you home.
I’d like that.
They crossed the threshold and she closed the door. “So, I
guess it went good?”
“It did.” She leaned against the wood. “They were darling.”
“They’re not the only ones.” He advanced toward her, his
dark eyes gleaming like hot coals. “You were a real trouper. I can’t tell you
how much your reaction meant to me.”
Staring up at him, she bit her lip. “I wanted it to go
well.”
“Why?”
“Because I like you a lot, Max. When I was put off by their
mannerisms, I was disappointed in myself. Though I still worry you and I are so
diff—”
He cut her off with a kiss. A hard one that set her head
spinning. Lifting her off the floor, he braced her against the wood and moved
in. Their bodies met, and her hips pressed into his. She hadn’t meant to do
that. Her action was spontaneous, like this kiss.
He growled, and responded in kind.
Pure hot pleasure rose in her as he continued to kiss her.
Then one hand went to her breast. She jerked.
“Is this okay?” he asked against her cheek.
“Yes, more than okay. It feels so good.” The sensation of a
man’s intimate touch was wonderful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d
felt it. And never so strongly.
He massaged her. Let his lips travel to her neck and kissed
her there. Heat rose from him, from her, and Sofia stopped thinking.
She didn’t know how much later he drew back. She reached for
him again, but he took her hand and let her slide to the floor. “No, not this
way. Not mindless.”
“Mindless feels pretty good to me right now.”
“It won’t tomorrow. We got a plan, baby, and we should stick
to it.”
Sofia tossed her head back. And straightened her shoulders.
She remembered lying in bed right after the surgery, at sixteen, vowing to live
her life without hesitation. And every single year after that when she went to
have a checkup, as she waited on the examining table in one of those skimpy
robes, she promised herself she’d embrace each day. So far, she had. Or at
least she thought she had, until right this moment, when Max resurrected all
the feelings of sexual arousal and attraction that had been buried deep inside
her. There hadn’t been a man in her life in a long time. How awful.
“Sofia? Where did you go?”
“Backwards in time.”
“I don’t understand. Don’t you think we should stick with
the plan? Get to know each other better, take this slow?”
She pushed herself off the wall and into him, looping her
arms around his neck. “No. I say, screw the plan.”
(Ludzecky Sisters Series #6)
by Kathryn Shay
Blurb:
Elizabeita Ludzecky is two different women: one the risk-taking, hip, wild child in the Ludzecky family. Her other side is the Rhodes Scholar and businesswoman who works at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The problem is she doesn’t know which is the real her. But what she does understand is the secret she carries inside her, and how it’s helped her survive a family fraught with tragedy.
Hardened cop Nick Casella decides to leave the NYPD because of his distaste for anti-police sentiment that developed after several high profile shootings were not prosecuted in the courts. But he’s asked to be part of a task force for the NYPD, an undercover unit specializing in unique crimes. He’s sent to the Met, ostensibly as a new employee do to set ups and other odd jobs. The famous museum has been besieged by odd emails, hackers and maybe even a stalker.
Nick works with Elizabeita when they put up a new exhibit and, at first, is not at all charmed by her winsomeness, her upbeat attitude about life or her sexy charisma. She’s a baby anyway, as he has more than a decade on her. But she’s getting the emails, too, and might be a victim, so he has to spend time with her. When she sets her sights on him, his first instinct is to run in the other direction. Soon, that changes dramatically. With secret and lies as the basis of a relationship, especially an older man/younger woman romance, does it have any chance of surviving?
Available for purchase at
Excerpt
LOVE STORY
EXCERPT 1
Elizabeita entered one of the conference
rooms at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and took a seat in the back. Most of
the Contemporary Art staff had already gathered, and she noticed a workman
touching up some paint on the side wall. Its scent was strong but not
unpleasant
“How’s everybody today?” Delores Martin, the
head curator in charge of the division, asked. In addition to Dee, three
assistant curators, three collections managers, one research associate and a
variety of technicians completed their department. Sometimes, Elizabeita had to
pinch herself to believe she’d actually gotten an assistant curatorship at this
renowned museum three years ago.
Mumbles of good or okay or tired abounded. Elizabeita liked the
people she worked with, including the two interns from the School of Art in
Manhattan.
After some announcements, Delores zeroed in
on her. “Elizabeita, I’ve got good news for you.”
“Seriously? We’re getting it?” She’d been
working on bringing a touring exhibit of a comparison between Dali and Picasso
to the Met.
“Yes, we are. A gallery in Chicago had to
drop out because of a fire. We’ve gotten their slot at the beginning of
November.”
“Hallelujah!” Success meant a lot to her.
“We don’t have much time to prepare for
this, but I’m sure it will sell out in days. Publicity is already underway. You
can expect the setup to begin as soon as the Matisse exhibit ends and is broken
down.”
“Great. Will I still be going to the
conference in California the week after next?”
“I don’t see why not.” She transferred her
gaze to the person next to Elizabeita. “Ellen, about your project. We didn’t receive
a grant we expected from the city. It’s impossible to finance your exhibit
before the end of the year.”
Also an assistant curator, Ellen Pratt
frowned. “But you said it was on track to be accepted.”
“I thought it would be. I didn’t plan on
the cut.”
Elizabeita knew how Ellen must feel. She’d
experienced rejection at work, too. Then again, everybody did.
“Make an appointment to see me and we’ll
talk.”
They covered other business, then Dee took
off her glasses and leaned forward. “We’ll end with something we need to
discuss—the emails our department has been getting.”
For a while now, the staff at the Met had
been receiving emails which consisted of a line or two about modern art. The
missives had gone from innocuous statements about its lack of relevance, its
nonsensical presentation to branding the style as pagan, blasphemous and sacrilegious.
After studying the history of art at Oxford, Elizabeita knew about art
fanatics.
“There might be cause for concern,” Delores
went on.
“Why?” Ellen asked. “We have the best
security of any art museum in the world here. And Director Davidson is
top-notch.”
“We do. Physically.” The museum sported the
requisite cameras, guards in every room, motion sensors on each work of art,
and vigilant overnight security. “But we may need assistance in dealing with
computer issues.”
The collections manager offered, “These
emails have been coming periodically for a while now. Aren’t they just from
some kook who doesn’t understand genius or wants attention?”
“At first, we thought so. Then the
frequency increased. And the tenor of the messages has become aggressive. Also,
a few employees have noticed lurkers around the quietest spaces in the museum.
When security was called, they vanished.”
“A lot of people lurk in museums.” This
from the research associate. “We call it browsing.”
Elizabeita
agreed about the lurkers. Her favorite patron of the museum, a little old
Polish man who took the train in from Brooklyn every week, could be considered
one. And he was as harmless as a kitten.
“All I can say is the director wants you to
be on the lookout for anything unusual. And be sure to send your emails to him
as soon as you receive them so his team can analyze the data.”
Elizabeita’s gaze strayed to the man
painting in the corner. He hadn’t gotten much done. Right now, he was on his
haunches doing something she couldn’t see. It was unusual to have a workman in a room during a staff meeting.
When the group broke up, Elizabeita took
out her phone. As she walked into the hallway, she checked for messages. Three
texts had come in, and she moved to the side to read them. One from a professor
she had taken classes from—and more—who lived in London. One from Ana. Another
from a guy she’d dated once and didn’t plan to see again. She answered them and
then pushed herself off the wall. Right as the workman came out. They collided.
A gallon can went flying. When it hit the
wall, the top came off and beige paint spattered everywhere. ““What the hell?”
he muttered and whirled around. “You ran into me.”
“I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m
sorry.”
“Do you have any idea how long that’s going
to take me to clean up?”
She frowned. “Quite a while.”
He glanced back to the wall. “Damn it,” he
said under his breath.
“Listen, I can help you. It was my fault.”
“Damn right it was.” He raked her up and
down with a disgusted gaze. “Never mind. I can’t see you mopping up paint in
those heels and the suit.”
Hmm. Must be he didn’t know who she was.
Not a big shot at the museum, for sure, but she’d started working here after
she got her second degree in art and had interned in galleries in London and
Paris. She planned to climb the art ladder fast. Now, at twenty-six, she was
recommending exhibits and had gotten one approved. She could, if she wanted to,
get him in trouble.
Sofia would kill her. Sweetie, she’d say. Be
forgiving of people. You never know if their cat died, if they were up all
night at a second job, or if they’d lost everything they’d worked for.
So she backed up a few steps. “You’re
right. I was only trying to help.” Stung, she started to walk away.
And heard behind her, “I could probably
leave the paint on the wall, and people would think it was just another piece
of that damned modern art.”
Hmm. He had a sense of humor. Who would
have guessed?
Propped up
on the headboard of her bed, Nick watched Elizabeita. When they’d gotten to the
bedroom, he’d found it lit with candles. All around the room. The scent was
sexy. They hadn’t undressed completely. She’d taken off that one-piece thing
with the sensuousness of a harem girl and helped him remove his shirt and
jeans. Wearing only black briefs, matching in color to her almost-nothing bra
and panties, he grinned at her. In the two weeks since he’d met her, he’d never
known what to expect. And he hadn’t realized he liked that so much. After Angie
died, he only wanted the routine. Surprises meant tragedy.
“Tonight’s
about touching. So don’t talk unless you have to.”
“I can do
that.”
She
pointed to the magazine spread open next to them. “The first kind is called
nurturing touch.” She was lying on a mound of pillows, so she was stretched
out, too, like that fantasy men have of women. Picking up his bare foot, she
began to massage his instep. He jerked forward at the intense pleasure that
shot from the extremity to all parts of him. She continued, increasing the
pressure. Eventually, he sat back and sighed. And moaned. And groaned. She paid
the same attention to the other foot, and Nick lost himself in sensation. He’d
had full-body massages before, but no other woman had ever done this for him. He let her go on too long,
he was sure, but he couldn’t help it. Finally, he forced himself to ask, “Want
me to return the favor?”
“Not yet.
There’s more in store for you.”
For
several minutes, Nick drifted in a stupor. Finally, he sat up. “Come on. Your
turn.”
When she
laid back, he took one of her feet. It was small and delicate, words he’d never
associated with her. Her eyes closed, her breath evened out, her entire body
went boneless. Stupidly proud of himself, he kept it up until she stopped him.
“On to the next one.”
He reached
for the magazine and read the kinds of touch. “The next is playful touch, like
wrestling, tickling, growling.”
“Let’s
skip that one.”
He read
further. “Passionate touching. Short bursts of energy that disarm your
partner.”
“I love
surprises.”
“I’ll
remember that. It involves unexpected full-body hugs. Out-of-the-blue squeezes
of the buttocks. Face cradling. You can do that to me anytime, babe.”
She
laughed. And the devil danced in her eyes. “The next is sensual touching.”
“Of course
it is. That’s what this is leading up to, right?”
“No. The last one is sexual touching. Learning
your partner’s erogenous zones.”
“I think
we’ve got that covered.”
“We’re
nowhere near there yet. Lay flat out on your stomach.”
She
straddled him and started with light pressure on his shoulders. After a while,
she dug her fingers into his muscles. He hadn’t realized how tight they were.
He’d been missing workouts during this assignment. “You can go a little
harder.” She did, for another few minutes. Then she eased off him and the bed.
“I’ll be
right back.”
When she
returned, he opened one eye. “What’d you get?”
Without
answering, she knelt next to him and put something warm on his upper back.
“Man,
Lizzie, that’s sinful.”
“Change in
temperature awakens the body.”
“I don’t
think I have that problem with you, hot stuff.”
“Hush.”
While the
towel soothed his muscles, she ran her fingers down his spine. Slow at first.
Then she did it quickly and exerted more pressure. “The article says to change
the tempo.”
“Lucky
me.”
After a
moment, she leaned over him and opened the nightstand drawer. “What are you
doing?”
“Keep your
eyes closed.”
He heard a
buzz. She spread his legs and then something touched the inside of his thigh.
Something vibrating. “Holy shit, Lizzie, is that…?”
“Yep. It
is. Now enjoy. We have the whole weekend to spend like this.”
Nick was
sure he’d died and gone to heaven. Suddenly, all he could think about was her
and what she was doing to him.
And he
couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy.
About the Author
You can find Kathryn at
Giveaway
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Thanks for featuring my books.
ReplyDeleteKathy Shay
Very welcome! Hopefully one day in the near future I will have to time to read them as well. :) L
DeleteI'm so excited to read them. I love the covers btw.
ReplyDelete