Just the Way You Aren’t
by Lynda
Simmons
BLURB:
What
happens when an everyday Cinderella makes a play for the prince?
A
moment of madness. That’s all muralist Sunny Anderson expected when she donned
a glittering mask and a fabulous gown to crash the gala at Manhattan’s newest
boutique hotel. Project manager Michael Wolfe has no idea that the beauty
staring up at the mural on the ballroom ceiling is also the artist who painted
it. He’s captivated and she’s willing, but when their moment of madness on the
sofa in his suite comes to an abrupt end, his princess is off and running,
leaving nothing behind but a pair of earrings. He’s determined to find her
again, but all he has to do is look closer at the woman painting the mural in
his office to see that the one he needs is standing right in front of him.
Six
Scruffy
As Ophelia liked
to say, it’s a dirty job, but someone’s
gotta’ do it. Just never thought it would be me down here in the
basement, cleaning up the litter pools.
When I first moved in, I thought using wading pools
for litter boxes was nuts, till I realized it was genius. Nine cats and three
pools means more space and fewer cleanups.
If only it meant no cleanups.
Pushing some bits
of crap to the back and covering those that have been left au natural, I can’t help wondering why she took us all in. Just a
good soul, I guess. A woman with a heart of gold. And every time I walk past
her body, I let her know I miss her. Not out loud or anything. Just a happy
thought inside my head.
Bernard and Old Tom want to blame Boots and Newcomer
for her falling down the stairs, but they’re wrong. It was a tragic accident that’s changed all
of our lives. And in times like this, you have to rise above your own hurt and
anger, get to a place of peace and understanding. That’s why I send her those
happy thoughts, to try and get to my own place of peace. But I swear, if anyone
nibbles on that body, I’ll be right there with Bernard and Old Tom to take the
fool out.
Bernard’s our
leader, a Maine Coon who ain’t no gentle giant and runs the place like he owns
it. Far as I’m concerned, he can call
himself king or captain or even Lord of all Cats if he wants to. I’m just happy
to have a roof over my head. I always thought I’d live out my days in this
house, but now that Ophelia’s gone, I can hardly wait to get out. Better to
take my chances on the street again than stick around to see who finally comes
looking for her, and what new hell they’ve brought with them.
Boots and Newcomer are upstairs working on a way out,
but I don’t know how much longer those boys can go without something to eat.
Mr. Large and In Charge says he’s only withholding food until their guilt or innocence is
established. If that’s so, then why
won’t he hold the vote?
We all know it’s wrong to starve those boys. More of
us need to find the guts to say so.
Maybe it’s because I’m finally done mucking around in
the litter pool or maybe Ophelia wants me to put my money where my mouth is,
but whatever the reason, I can hear noises coming from Bernard’s private
quarters in the rec room, making this as good a time as any for me to grow a
pair.
No one gets into Bernard’s quarters without being
invited, so I make my presence known at the door and wait. No answer, but I can
still hear rustling so I ease the door back and stick my head into the
room. Instead of Bernard, the Calico
Twins look back at me. They’re over by the La-Z-Boy, taking something out of a
box.
“Whatever that is,” I tell them. “You need to put it
back right now.”
“Stuff it old man,” one of them says.
“Where the cat won’t see it,” the other adds.
They do that annoying high-five thing before tearing
into whatever they’ve found. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it’s a bag of
treats, but all the food has been accounted for and rationed. Still when the
bag spills, it really does look like treats scattering everywhere and my mouth
starts to water.
“Where did those come from?” I ask.
“The box, idiot,” they say together.
I throw rules and caution to the wind, creep closer
and discover they’re right. That box is
full to bursting with treats and sample bags of crunchies.
I stare at the twins. “What’s this doing in here?”
“The real question is, what are you doing in here,” Bernard says.
I swing around. Watch him make his way down from the
top of a bookcase.
He strolls toward me and I lift my chin. “I wanted to
talk about Boots and Newcomer, but now I’m more curious about this.” I paw a
few of the bags. “Why isn’t all this
food upstairs?”
“Because it’s my personal stash, carefully assembled
over time.” He picks up a packet and drops it on the floor. “I was saving them
for a rainy day.” He drops another and slides it toward me. “And I’d say it’s pouring right now wouldn’t
you?”
I shove it back
at him. “You have to let the others know
about this.”
He blinks at me then turns to the twins. “You should
leave.”
“Can we take a bag?” one asks.
“A chicken one?” the other says.
“Get out,” Bernard says, and this time, they don’t
argue.
When they’re gone I turn back to him. “Why were they
in here?”
“They’re making themselves useful. They talk, I listen
and everyone leaves satisfied.” He slides an open bag toward me. “You could
enjoy the same luxury. Smart guy like you must hear plenty.”
“I hear that everyone’s hungry. And they won’t take
kindly to you hoarding food.”
“I’m sure they won’t.”
“We could say you found it. I’ll back you up, say I
was with you. You’ll be a hero.”
He takes a step toward me. “What a lovely idea.”
“We’re all in this together.”
“Of course we are. “ He comes closer, crowding me,
trying to force me to back up, or maybe back down. But sometimes, even a king
needs to know when he’s gone too far.
“We can take the bags out to the laundry room,” I tell
him. “Set everything up real nice.”
“Perhaps later.” He walks over to the door. Closes it.
“But right now,” he says. “We need to have a little talk.”
And my mouth dries right up when I hear the latch
click.
EXCERPT
Sunny’s feet moved of their own accord and she stared
straight ahead, horrified and thrilled at the same time. Wondering what she was
playing at and not at all surprised when he fell into step beside her.
This was why she wasn’t ready to leave, she realized. She
was enjoying herself too much. Enjoying the fact that as Sonja she could do
anything or say anything. Be shocking and sexy, and make Michael Wolfe sit up
and take notice.
She glanced over at him as they walked, feeling beautiful,
powerful, but most of all desirable. Because if that wasn’t hunger she saw in
those dark eyes, then she’d been out of circulation for far too long.
Which was a distinct possibility given that her last sexual
encounter had been almost a year ago in the back of Vince Cerqua’s convertible
when the top wasn’t the only thing that wouldn’t go up. She’d spent the drive
home assuring him that it happened to men all the time; at least that was what
she heard in the tearoom.
She felt her face warm, knowing instinctively that Michael’s
top would never let him down. Not that she wanted to find out. Not really. Not
now, at any rate.
“Where will you be going in the morning?” he asked.
“New Jersey.”
He drew his head back and she laughed. “There’s a theater
group I’m rather fond of. After that, it’s anyone’s guess. I’m just a wanderer.
Never in one place long enough to plant a garden as they say.”
“Is that what you’d like to do? Plant a garden?”
“Yes,” she said, slipping in a touch of Sunny, but staying
true to Sonja. “Of course, with so many emerging artists, I’m not thinking
about that right now.”
He stopped and took her hand. “What are you thinking about?”
Trouble. And sex. Mostly sex. For all the good it did her.
Truth to tell, Sunny wasn’t the kind to have a one-night
stand. She was conservative in her thinking and cautious when it came to
matters of the heart. She was the kind who delivered hampers at Christmas,
painted faces at the community center on Halloween, and made sure her
organ-donor card was signed. No question about it, she was Sunny the good:
Balanced. Friendly. And utterly predictable.
But Sonja? Now there was a real vixen. A woman who traveled
the world, took risks every day, and was never, ever predictable. It seemed a
shame to make her leave the ball so early when she was only in town for one
night. And Sunny had the rest of her life to spend being good.
Michael ran his thumb across hers and the pull was stronger
than ever, bringing her back a step. After all, it wasn’t as though he was a
total stranger, some masked man she picked up at the sushi bar. This was
Michael Wolfe, Beast of Brighton, Terror of the Tradesmen. And she already knew
he looked good without a shirt.
Maybe Hugh was right. Maybe a moment of madness was good for
the soul.
The music changed again, the singer launching into a slow,
sultry torch song that begged an answer to the question women had been asking
for centuries: what is it with men and commitment?
Sunny had wrestled with that issue herself for years,
convinced that the boy she’d loved too much would come back for her one day.
Pale and contrite, wanting nothing more than to love her the way he should have
all along. But commitment wasn’t on her mind at all when she twined her fingers
with Michael’s and gave him Sonja’s best come-hither smile. “I’m thinking we
should go to your place,” she said, and was sure she was floating as they headed
for the door.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Lynda Simmons is a writer by day, college instructor by night and
a late sleeper on weekends. She grew up in Toronto reading Greek mythology,
bringing home stray cats and making up stories about bodies in the basement.
From an early age, her family knew she would either end up as a writer or the
old lady with a hundred cats. As luck would have it, she married a man with
allergies so writing it was.
With two daughters to raise, Lynda and her husband moved into a
lovely two storey mortgage in Burlington, a small city on the water just
outside Toronto. While the girls are grown and gone, Lynda and her husband are
still there. And yes, there is a cat - a beautiful, if spoiled, Birman.
When she's not writing or teaching, Lynda gives serious thought to
using the treadmill in her basement. Fortunately, she's found that if she waits
long enough, something urgent will pop up and save her - like a phone call or
an e-mail or a whistling kettle. Or even that cat just looking for a little
more attention!
Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/Lynda-Simmons/e/B001KI3Z4O
http://www.lyndasimmons.com/
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/958842.Lynda_Simmons
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynda-Simmons-Author/149740745067442
https://twitter.com/LyndaMSimmons
http://www.amazon.com/Just-Way-Arent-Lynda-Simmons-ebook/dp/B00OYUDDTW/ref=asap_B001KI3Z4O_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1415211875&sr=1-3
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Thanks for hosting! Cheers
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the bonus story installment! I'm Trix on the Rafflecopter...
ReplyDeleteWhat a fun excerpt. I loved it. Loved the bonus story.
ReplyDeleteGreat excerpt, thank you.
ReplyDeleteThanks Trix. Are you a cat person too? Cheers
ReplyDeleteThanks momjane. Are you a cat fancier or a dog lover? Cheers
ReplyDeleteI love both, but cats are so special.
ReplyDeleteLove that idea! A new life for the Cat Colony. Food for thought.
ReplyDeleteSame here. I only have one now but there is a part of me that could be the Crazy Cat Lady.
ReplyDeletei enjoyed reading the excerpt
ReplyDeleteUh-oh, poor Scuffy.....Can't wait for the next one.
ReplyDeletePoor Scruffy, so brave. He just doesn't see what's coming.
ReplyDelete