The Marine Meets His Match. Cathie LinzЧитать онлайн книгу.
in Red. She was like poetry in motion, the way she moved. Southern women had a natural way of doing that, making a man take notice. But he hadn’t detected a local accent when she’d spoken.
Still, if she’d spoken at this school today, she had to live nearby. The tote bag she carried had an open-book design and a bookstore name on it: The Reader’s Place—Home Of Novel Ideas.
He had plenty of novel ideas about her. All of them steamy. He had to get back to the base now, but tomorrow, he’d make a stop at her bookstore. Because Rad was not a man who gave up easily. He wasn’t a man who gave up at all.
He was still thinking about Serena when he returned to Camp Lejeune. Which was why he didn’t see Heidi Burns until it was too late.
The general’s eighteen-year-old daughter was a beauty with her dark hair and big blue eyes. She was also a pain in the keister.
The general’s daughter had been making Rad’s life difficult for several weeks now. Which was how he’d ended up with that school assignment. Not his usual type of mission.
When Rad hadn’t accepted Heidi’s invitation to go out with her, she’d warned him that she’d go to her daddy to get what she wanted if necessary. He hadn’t believed her. Then his CO had given him the school assignment, saying the “request” had come from the general himself.
Rad knew he had to do something about this situation. Heidi had decided she wanted him. Not that he’d ever given her one iota of attention. Well, okay, so he’d smiled at her when he’d first met her. But that was it. She claimed to have fallen in love with him on sight.
Staying out of her way was difficult, because she followed him like a lost puppy. She was daddy’s princess who could do no wrong. Spoiled all her life, she’d always gotten what she wanted.
Now she wanted Rad.
“There you are.” She grasped his arm. “You, like, have to join Daddy and me for dinner tonight.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Her expression warned him that he’d better have a good reason and that no reason would be good enough.
There was only one thing he could think of saying. “My fiancée wouldn’t approve.”
That stopped Heidi in her tracks. For barely a second. Then she laughed. “You don’t have a fiancée.”
“Yes, I do.”
Heidi was no fool. She clearly suspected something was up. “Then why haven’t you mentioned her before?”
“We just recently got engaged.”
“What’s her name?” She shot the question at him with machine-gun speed, rattling him with her dogged persistence.
“Serena. Serena Anderson.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “She’s a bookseller.”
“The building sold?” Serena looked at the Realtor removing the For Sale sign from the front.
“That’s right. The new owner wants to meet with you later today, between five and six.”
“About renewing my lease?”
“I’m assuming so, yes.”
Serena felt as if she’d swallowed a swarm of bees. Nerves jangled in her stomach.
A yellow butterfly fluttered over the red petunias in the store’s window boxes before floating away without a care in the world. What a life. She wondered what it would be like to be so free of worries, free of debt, free period.
Yes, but butterflies had problems too. They had to be careful or they’d end up splat on some car’s windshield.
First bees, now butterflies. She was clearly on some kind of insect train of thought here. And such cheerful thoughts they were, too. She grimaced.
She didn’t consider herself to be the over-anxious type. If asked to describe herself, she’d say she was good with people, that she’d worked hard over the years to try to find the good in the bad, and that she could be bribed with Belgian chocolate. Dark chocolate.
The distant rumble of thunder meant that Serena could cross watering the flowers off her list of things to do today.
Before entering her store, she paused a moment for her daily ritual—brushing her fingers against the lettering on the glass door. This was her dream come true.
Her bookstore, The Reader’s Place, was located on the main floor of the three-story brick building. The second floor had a one-bedroom apartment, which she also rented. Another apartment, exactly like hers, was on the top floor.
When she’d found the location she’d known it was the perfect place, and had signed the one-year leases the same day for both the retail space and for the apartment.
A new owner most likely meant an increase in her rent. The question was, by how much? She was barely squeaking by as it was.
Her stomach shifted and did that buzzing-bee dance thing she hated. Thunder rumbled again just as a streak of sunlight beamed down on her. Find the silver lining. Maybe the new owner would be great. Maybe he’d leave the rents exactly as they were. Maybe he’d buy some books while he was there. It could happen.
“Did you forget your keys?” The question came from Jane Washington. She and her husband, Hosea, owned the florist shop in the building next door. In her early fifties, Jane’s mocha skin had the youthful glow of a much younger woman.
“No, I was just thinking.”
“Better do that inside,” Jane advised. “There’s a storm coming. I’ll let you know if there are any weather advisories.” Jane kept a radio on at all times. “There’s a funny feeling in the air, like something big might happen.”
“Something big did happen. Someone bought my building.”
“Is that good news or bad?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll find out later today when the new owner stops by.”
“What are you doing standing out here?” This time the question came from Serena’s assistant, Kalinda Patel. The nineteen-year-old college student had long black hair and beautiful dark brown eyes. She also had the look of someone who needed coffee…badly. “The cappuccino machine is inside and I need my caffeine.”
Lightning flashed as if emphasizing Kalinda’s statement. “Okay, okay, I’m going inside.” Quickly unlocking the door, Serena walked into her pride and joy—her bookstore.
While Kalinda hurried to set up the cappuccino machine behind the counter for her morning drink, Serena flipped on the lights and looked around. Serena’s imprint was everywhere. She’d helped build the bookcases alongside the handyman she’d hired. She’d found the pair of comfy reading chairs at a local Goodwill store and had sewn the chintz slipcovers herself. They framed the entrance to the romance section, one of her bestselling areas.
Beyond that was the alcove housing the mystery section. Mock yellow-and-black plastic crime scene ribbons lined the shelves. A vintage movie poster of Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes in The Hound of the Baskervilles hung on the wall.
The science fiction section was next, with Star Wars posters and signed covers from authors who had visited her store. Nearby she’d just recently started a young adult section with a variety of selections for adolescents. The area where westerns were shelved was relatively small, but very homey with a twig chair covered with a Native American woven blanket.
The children’s section was tucked into an alcove and featured inviting beanbag chairs and a colorful alphabet area rug. Some of the shelves were lower and many of the books were positioned face out. She changed the posters every month—Dr. Seuss’s Cat in the Hat had the central place of honor at the moment. That still left room for Olivia the Pig to one side and Sandra Boynton’s latest to the other side.
In