He’s a ladies’ man.
A charmer and a flirt.
The chaser, not the chased.
Until the arrival of anonymous love notes upsets the status quo.
Who’s sending them, and why?
Hitting on women is one thing, but being hit on by a woman, is something else.
It’s not a position Rourke likes, especially when he has no idea who the mysterious sender could be.
The problem is, it could be one of many.
Because Rourke is that kind of guy.
As the love notes continue to arrive and with no end to the mystery, his mild amusement gives way to irritation.
For all he knows, the sender could be a past girlfriend, seeking revenge, or a total stranger.
Secret admirers are one thing.
Love notes are another.
But what happens when he discovers the woman behind the secret?
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Excerpt:
“I never expected that, did you?” Rourke asked his friend Dylan, as their friend Reed walked away towards his car.
“It’s not that surprising.” Dylan checked his cell phone for the umpteenth time.
Rourke and his friends had just left the Blue Velvet Bar where Reed had dropped a huge bombshell; not about his engagement breaking up—he’d told them about that a few weeks ago when he’d hinted that his then fiancée, Olivia, had blamed his maid, Jenna, for the break-up. Reed had explained that his and Olivia’s problems had started soon after they got engaged. But still, even though the break-up had been a shock, it had been nothing compared to tonight’s news: that Jenna no longer worked for Reed, and, even more shocking, he had hinted of an attraction between them.
Reed had kept it vague, as was to be expected of a man like him. But the news had shocked Rourke; not so much because Jenna had been Reed’s maid, but more because, up until tonight, Rourke had suspected that Jenna might have been the one sending love notes. He’d received three now, and the third one only a few days ago. They had started on Valentine’s Day with each subsequent one arriving two weeks later.
He didn’t know what to make of it.
“What do you mean it’s not surprising?” Rourke growled. Dylan acted like a know-it-all most of the time, and acted as if most things didn’t surprise him. Rourke didn’t care what this smart aleck said this time. Reed and Jenna getting together was big news.
Dylan was still texting, and had a goofy smile on his face.
“Texting Merry again?” Rourke groaned. “I’m still here and trying to have a conversation with you.” He clicked his fingers.
“Just letting her know I’ll be back in half an hour,” his friend replied.
“Why?”
Dylan looked up at him, stopped texting and put the phone away. “Because … why not? Why are you so grouchy?”
Rourke folded his arms. “Reed’s news is a shock, that’s all.”
“It wasn’t that big of a shock. I saw that coming.”
“Even after the ball?”
“Especially after the ball.”
“Were you and I at the same ball?” Rourke asked, because he’d seen Reed go up on stage, had seen his fiancée look stunning in that red dress, and they’d both looked like a couple in love. They’d kissed on the stage. They’d looked happy. What had he missed? “What did you see that I didn’t see?”
Dylan sighed. “It was there all along. Don’t you pay attention to anything?”
Rourke opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t. He did pay attention. Mostly to women. He could scan a room within seconds of stepping into it and filter out the lookers in one glance.
“But Jenna?” he asked. That had come as a surprise. Most men had a type. He had his. His ideal woman was slim, feminine and beautiful. Of course, it could be any number of women in Starling Bay who matched that description, and it was eating him up trying to figure out who it could be that was sending the notes.
He preferred women with long hair, and a tall, slender figure. Leggy, too. He loved long, long, long legs. He’d been using his type, and interactions with the women he knew, to narrow down his list of possible senders of the love notes.
Jenna was, well…pretty, but she was also different. Her blue hair put her in the slightly crazy category. He didn’t think she was Reed’s type either, but maybe a man’s real type versus the imagined type diverged in reality.
The only reason he’d considered Jenna as a possible sender had been because the love notes had started arriving soon after she returned to Starling Bay. This was why he’d been so interested in her for the past couple of months.
And they’d gone to the same school many, many years ago. He figured it had to be someone he knew, even someone from his past. At least he hoped so. The idea of a random stalker being behind the love notes scared the heck out of him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dylan asked as he walked towards his pickup. Rourke followed. “She’s not his type.”
“Maybe she is now,” said Dylan. “Or do you mean about her being a maid? Who cares about that stuff? Jenna seems like a nice person, from the little I saw of her at the ball. I don’t know her. Thing is, it doesn’t matter what we think of her. Reed likes her, and we’ve got to be there for him.”
“Yeah, of course. We do,” Rourke agreed, “But he’s a dark horse.”
“Talking of dark horses, are you really not going to celebrate your birthday? Or do you have secret plans with a secret girlfriend?” Dylan asked.
“I don’t have a girlfriend right now.”
“And you’re definitely not celebrating your birthday at all?”
“No, and I don’t want to keep telling you guys that.”
“Touchy.”
“It’s just another birthday.” He didn’t want a fuss; he didn’t want a celebration with a big party. His parents had come over last weekend, and they’d gone to Fellini’s for dinner. The popular Italian restaurant was a family favorite. Too bad his sister, Shelly, hadn’t been able to make it. He’d told her it was no big deal, but she thought he was in denial, and that he was possibly going through a mid-life crisis twenty years early.
He disagreed. He was fine. Turning thirty was no big deal. No big deal at all.
“It is another birthday, you’re right,” Dylan agreed. “After a while, it doesn’t matter and the numbers don’t mean jack.”
Rourke sniggered. “Of course you’re going to say that because you’re positively ancient, pal.”
“My age doesn’t bother me as much as turning thirty bothers you, pal. See you soon?”
“I’m always free,” Rourke replied easily. “I should ask if you and Reed have time for me these days, seeing that you’re both busy with your new love interests.”
“You’re definitely grumpy tonight. Call me when you’re in a better mood.” Dylan winked at him and drove away.
Maybe he was a little peeved that he could no longer claim he was in his twenties, but other than that, he was fine.
Other than this irritating little thing he now had to deal with. He walked towards his car, doubly perplexed because the mystery had suddenly deepened. He climbed into his seat and pulled the most recent notecard out of his jacket pocket.
Just like the two before it, this notecard had also been delivered to his work address. It was a pretty little card, white with colored flowers on the front. Each of the three cards had pictures of flowers, and this one also had little pink hearts.
A girlie card.
There was no printed writing inside, only a handwritten poem. This third one said:
If I were brave, I would shine a beam,
And light up your path to me.
There’s no other way to make you see,
That you and I were meant to be.
The first one had been unexpected and a nice surprise. The second one had been interesting, and still a nice surprise. This third one had been a pleasant distraction from work, from turning thirty, and from his very-much-single status. It had been an uplifting boost when he’d believed that Jenna might have been a contender, when he’d thought he could pin a face to the person behind it. But now that Reed had hinted, albeit vaguely, of an attraction between him and Jenna, this line of enquiry was out of the question.
He shoved the note back into his pocket. In the general scheme of things, of life, and the new hire at work, and the properties he was working on selling, these love notes weren’t important. But they were a minor irritation. Who the heck was sending them and how long was he supposed to put up with receiving them?
With Jenna out of the equation now, it could be any number of women. He was going to have a hard time figuring out exactly who.