Love and Romance, etc.
A Free Newsletter for romance novel lovers
By Bonnie Williams
Episode 2
Emma
and the Gossip Queen
"Attractive men are nothing but trou—ble."
Emma glanced up from Missy Clark’s nails as the woman said the word "trouble" as two words. "Not that I don’t agree with you, but why would you said that?" she asked."Because every hot guy I ever had the misfortune to date either kept picking at their perfectly white teeth right there at the table, talk non-stop about his boring career, or worse, ask me out again."
Missy, as Emma understood, was a bitter, ex-trophy wife with only two goals in life: spend all her ex-husband’s money, and gossip. One thing Emma was never in short supply of was gossip. An added benefit to working in the most popular salon in town.
"As if the only qualifications I needed for a hot date," Missy continued, "were my breasts and the right mascara. And then there’s those Kinsey brothers." Missy groaned and rolled her eyes. "They’re in a completely different ball field. Why, I even heard that—"
"The Kinseys?" Emma interrupted before thinking. The last thing she wanted to think about was Blake Kinsey. All six-foot four of him. Darn it. The man was more of an immense, aggravating Herculean. All sexy chested, low riding jeans of him. Emma sighed hard and heavy. She’d just finally gotten the irritating man out of her head until Missy started in. Her mother would have called him discourteous. Shouldn’t a guy have the decency to put on a shirt before answering the front door? And he kept moving in on her, crowding her, brushing his hip against her, his arm casually brushing the side of her breast—then that outrageous suggestion to go to dinner. Emma was more annoyed than alarmed and that’s what scared her—that’s why she’d bolted without so much as a finial dig to his masculinity. But then he did offer to watch Pumpkin and her babies after she gave birth. So, he must have some redeemable qualities. Very little, but some.
Definitely not someone she’d take home to meet her parents. But then if her mother had anything to do with it, she’d have Emma married off to someone stodgy like Peter Ridgeway. Polished, wealthy, and utterly boring.
Emma suddenly had a vision of Blake Kinsey kissing her. Not the brotherly peck that Peter always gave her, but a hard deep bone melting kind. Oh dear, this would never do. She felt herself becoming aroused just from fantasizing about a kiss.
"Yes." She leaned over the linoleum table to whisper, "I heard from a friend of a cousin of mine that those boys are..." she placed her newly manicure hand to her mouth in secret. "They’re cursed."
"Cursed? Sounds like an old wives tale."
"Shh. Yes, cursed in the worst way."
What? Where they endowed with tiny penises, she wanted to ask, but bit down on a smirk and kept her mouth shut. Oh—maybe they were so huge that— Agh, what was wrong with her? She suddenly wanted to know what Blake’s penis looked like!
"You, know? Incapable of satisfying a woman—sexually."
"Uh. Imagine that." More than likely due to male selfishness, she thought.
Missy left humming after she gave Emma a generous tip—a bigger load of information in her head then she’d have liked. But Missy was apparently very happy to be the first to offer Emma the town gossip. The Kinsey brothers apparently had a notorious history going all the way back to their grandfather’s time.
She blew the strand of hair that fell over her eyes and thumbed through her appointment book. "Rosie, did my afternoon appointment call in and cancel?" Emma leased the manicurist station at the salon, but Rosie owned the salon.
"Nope. She called this morning and had to change her time. Since you weren’t coming in until later, I scheduled her with Michelle."
"Oh." That was odd. This was the third schedule change this week. At this rate, she’d never save enough money for her own shop. "Well, I’m going to get some coffee, then," she said as she heard the front door to the shop chime.
Emma felt woefully clueless about the men in this town. She definitely needed to get out more. "And Blake Kinsey’s offer for dinner is starting to look pre—tty good," she mumbled.
"I’m glad to hear that," said a familiar husky, intensely sensual voice.
Oh, no. Emma reluctantly looked up and found Blake Kinsey smiling broadly as he stood filling the doorway to the salon. "What are you doing here," she said in a harsh whispered. The At least he was wearing a shirt. "And how on earth did you know where to find me?"
He took two slow long strides over to her station and gazed down at her. "Greenrich is a small town, honey." He leaned in, making her think he might kiss her. Instead he whispered in her ear, "And you’re easy to spot."
Emma crossed her arms, attempting to hide her aroused, mutinous nipples. It didn’t work. The cad smirked and raised an eyebrow as his eyes dipped down to her cleavage and back up again. Oh, she was ready for battle.
Blake reached into his jeans pocket and handed her a folded piece of paper, his knuckles grazed her crossed arms, as if coxing her to relax. Aghast by her body’s response, her arms fell to her sides, and the outrageous man slipped the paper into her palm. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed the inside of her wrist, holding it there a moment longer then she’d consider polite, grinned, then dropped her hand. Blake turned on his heel and left—leaving Emma nearly catatonic in the middle of the salon floor with her heart fluttering and nerve ending dancing.
"Yeowza," Rosie said. "Hard to believe that guy’s impotent. The way he was looking at you, his eyes could’ve started a fire."
"Yeah," she said stupidly. Remembering the paper in her hand, she unfolded it. Inside it said, I know you want me. When you’re ready to admit it, call me. Yours, B.
"Yeah. In your dreams, Kinsey."
And maybe in her own as well.
THE LONELY GUYS
Copyright © 2004 By Bonnie Williams
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