Public Displays of Affection
Susan Donovan
Praise for the Novels of Susan Donovan
PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION
“Sassy, smart, and sensual. Susan Donovan will steal your heart.”
—Christina Dodd, New York Times bestselling author of Almost Like Being in Love
“Fresh, fun, and oh, so sexy! Susan Donovan is gonna be a star!”
—Susan Andersen, author of Hot & Bothered
“A perfect blend of humor, highly charged sexual tension, and emotional intensity. Susan Donovan is a must-read!”
—Janelle Denison, USA Today bestselling author of The Wilde Side
TAKE A CHANCE ON ME
“Comic sharpness… the humorous interactions among Thomas, Emma, and Emma’s quirky family give the book a golden warmth as earthy as its rural Maryland setting. But there are also enough explicit erotic interludes to please readers who like their romances spicy.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Donovan has a real talent for painting hilarious word pictures that are pure gold.”
—The Oakland Press
“Donovan blends humor and compassion in this opposites-attract story. Sexy and masculine, Thomas fills the bill for the man of your dreams. Emma and Thomas deserve a chance at true love. Delightfully entertaining, Take a Chance on Me is a guaranteed good time.”
—Old Book Barn Gazette
“Full of humor, sensuality, and emotion with excellent protagonists and supporting characters… a wonderful tale. Don’t be afraid to take a chance on this one. You’ll love it.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Impossible to put down… Susan Donovan is an absolute riot. You’re reading a paragraph that is so sexually charged you can literally feel the air snapping with electricity and the next second, one of the characters has a thought that is so absurd… that you are laughing out loud. Susan Donovan has a very unique, off-the-wall style that should keep her around for many books to come. Do NOT pass this one up.”
—Romance Junkie Review
“Susan Donovan has created a vastly entertaining romance in her latest book Take a Chance on Me. The book has an ideal cast of characters… a very amusing, pleasurable read… all the right ingredients are there, and Ms. Donovan has charmingly dished up an absolutely fast, fun, and sexy read!”
—Road to Romance
“Contemporary romances don’t get much better than Take a Chance on Me… such wonderful characters! You want sexual tension? This book drips with it. How about a love scene that is everything that a love scene should be? There’s humor, a touch of angst, and delightful dialogue… Take a Chance on Me is going to end up very, very high on my list of best romances for 2003.”
—All About Romance
KNOCK ME OFF MY FEET
“Spicy debut… [A] surprise ending and lots of playfully erotic love scenes will keep readers entertained.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Donovan’s blend of romance and mystery is thrilling.”
—Booklist
“Knock Me Off My Feet will knock you off your feet… Ms. Donovan crafts an excellent mixture to intrigue you and delight you. You’ll sigh as you experience the growing love between Autumn and Quinn and giggle over their dialogue. And you’ll be surprised as the story unfolds. I highly recommend this wonderfully entertaining story.”
—Old Book Barn Gazette
“From the beginning I was hooked by the author’s fast-paced writing and funny situations… I highly recommend this debut book by Susan Donovan. You’ll just have to ignore the ironing and vacuuming and order pizza for the family until you’ve finished being knocked off your feet by this saucy, sexy romp.”
—A Romance Review
“Hilarious… full of sass and sizzle.”
—Julie Ortolon, USA Today bestselling author of Don’t Tempt Me
St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles
by Susan Donovan
Take a Chance on Me
Knock Me Off My Feet
Public Displays
of Affection
Susan Donovan
St. Martin’s Paperbacks
PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION
Copyright © 2004 by Susan Donovan.
Cover photo of lipstick by Ben Perini.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 0-312-99232-7
Printed in the United States of America
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / June 2004
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This book is dedicated to the men in my life.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Four Years Later
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to acknowledge the following people for their assistance.
Susan Burkey, thank you for telling me about your life as a young widow with children. I couldn’t have created the character of Charlotte Tasker without your help.
Supervisory Special Agent Will R. Glaspy and the staff of the Drug Enforcement Administration Office of Public Affairs, thanks for being so generous and patient in answering my stupid questions, then, soon after, my stupid follow-up questions. I hope this book answers once and for all the hotly debated question of which branch of federal law enforcement employs the best lovers.
Kim Lancaster, thanks for answering questions about real estate sales, and Celeste Bradley and Marilyn K. Swisher, thank you for reading early drafts of the manuscript.
To my editor, Monique Patterson, thanks for being patient with this one, and to my agent, Pamela Hopkins, thanks for cheering me on.
And finally, to the Reed-Shuster kids a big thank-you for being who you are—Sir Joke-A-Lot, Sir Go-With-the-Flow-A-Lot, Lady Brave-A-Lot, and Sir Loves-Animals-A-Lot. I adore you all, and I trust you will someday forgive me for shamelessly stealing pieces of your real personalities to create the fictional Hank, Justin, and Matt.
Thirteen Years Ago
The air was thick and sugary with honeysuckle, and Charlotte breathed deep, pulling the sweetness into her lungs until she could taste the possibilities.
Of course she would say yes. In less than an hour, probably right there at Gate B-16 of National Airport, she was going to look into the eyes of the most wonderful man she’d ever known and say yes—yes, yes, yes! For once she was glad that Kurt’s roommates couldn’t keep a secret. She wondered if the diamond would be emerald cut or a classic round solitaire and whether it would have a platinum or gold setting.
The wind lashed into the convertible, whipping a few strands of hair across her cheek and sending others straight up like tongues of strawberry blonde flame. She looked into the rearview mirror and smiled. She was wild. Carefree. A bad, bad girl.
The thought was so ridiculous that she laughed.
A sl
ap of hair covered Charlotte’s eyes, and she eased up on the gas to be on the safe side. She had plenty of time. She should just relax and enjoy the baby blue sky, the heavy green tunnel of leaves along the George Washington Parkway, and all that rich, sweet honeysuckle.
She sighed, thankful for the magic of this borrowed sports car. How odd that just the absence of a roof could make her feel so free. It was as if she’d been given permission to touch the whole big world along with the wind—and it made her feel strong, uninhibited, and, okay, she was going to admit it—she felt sexy!
She felt ready.
Charlotte’s foot thumped and her thigh bounced as The Clash poured from the car’s overtaxed CD player. She raised her voice to sing along—and why not? Why not sing loud enough to scare the birds? Why not feel the air caress the bare skin of her arms? Why not live in the moment? Wasn’t that what life was—just a finite number of moments strung together?
And how could anyone know how many moments they got in this life? How precious was the number?
She checked the rearview mirror again.
That man was still there.
Charlotte first noticed the guy in the black Jeep and even blacker Ray·Bans before she left the Beltway. When he followed her onto the GW, she’d told herself that there was nothing to worry about—it was the most beautiful route into the city on a day like this and he was entitled to enjoy his open-air ride, too.
So what if he just flashed that Top Gun smile again? So what if he just wiggled his fingers in another flirty wave? So what if one quick look at him made her belly catch fire?
She was a big girl. She could handle him.
Then he puckered his lips and blew her a kiss and Charlotte’s pulse spiked. She jerked her eyes back to the road in front of her. She thought of Kurt Tasker, coming home to her in less than two hours. She focused on her future, on everything noble she had planned for her life, everything she had saved herself for.
With a trembling hand, Charlotte reached for the little notepad on the passenger seat. Maybe seeing Kurt’s flight number once more would anchor her, keep her safe.
But a gust of wind ripped the notepad from her grasp and sent it flying out the open roof.
Charlotte watched in horror as the man in the Jeep rose and snagged it from midair.
He shot her a blazing white smile.
And motioned for her to pull off at the scenic overlook.
Chapter One
Charlotte Tasker squinted into the afternoon sun, watching the Buckeye Moving & Storage truck lumber down the cul-de-sac. She turned toward her best friend.
“I guess if the world didn’t suck, we’d all fall off, right?”
Bonnie Preston touched her shoulder in sympathy, and Charlotte managed a smile.
No, it wasn’t exactly the end of the world when the neighbors next door got transferred. But one look at her son confirmed that the timing couldn’t have been worse.
Matthew held the Techno-Spy binoculars up to his eyes, following the moving van as it disappeared in the distance. His narrow shoulders shook. Charlotte heard him sniffle.
“Why did they have to move?” he asked in a small voice.
“Mr. Connor got a new job in Columbus, honey. We talked about this.”
“But why did they have to go?” The boy let the binoculars dangle from the cord around his neck and glared at his mother, his face contorted with the effort not to cry. “We’re never going to see them again, are we?”
“Maybe we can visit someday.”
“We won’t. Ever.”
Charlotte watched her ten-year-old stalk off across the yard and her heart ached for him. Another loss, another change, was the last thing their little family needed, and they all knew it.
As Matt slammed the front door with finality, a pudgy, sticky hand wheedled its way into her palm.
“So who’s gonna toss with me now, Mom?” Hank looked up at Charlotte with a pair of deep blue, forlorn eyes, set in a chubby, freckled face.
Before she could answer, Bonnie’s husband swooped down and lifted the little girl into the air. “I’ll toss with you, Henrietta, but you gotta go easy on your fastball. I’m getting to be an old man.”
Ned Preston threw Hank over his wide shoulder and marched away.
“Call me Henrietta again and I’ll knock your block off!” she yelled through her giggles.
Ned looked back at Bonnie and Charlotte and grinned. “Hey, ladies, whaddya say I throw some veggie burgers on the grill, whip us up some killer fruit smoothies, and we meet next door in a few minutes? We got any wheat germ, babe?”
Bonnie chuckled and shook her head. “Not since about 1974.”
“I’ll improvise,” Ned said with a wink.
The women stood quietly in the driveway for a long moment, Charlotte feeling Bonnie close to her side. She reached out for her friend’s hand, found it, and pressed it tight. “He’s a good man, Bonnie, even if he can’t stop abusing me for my food choices.”
She laughed at that. “He certainly is. And I guess after thirty-five years I’d better start thinking of this as a permanent arrangement.”
Charlotte’s smile faded at what Bonnie said next.
“I’m sorry Matt’s taking the Connors’ move so hard.”
“He takes everything hard since Kurt died.”
“I know.”
“He’s not bouncing back the way Hank has.”
“He needs more time, Charlotte. He’s older than Hank. And it’s only been—”
“Eighteen months, eleven days, and twenty-two hours.”
The women’s eyes locked. Bonnie squeezed Charlotte’s hand even harder and tried to smile.
Then in tandem, the women turned their gaze to the split-level stone and siding house at 1232 Hayden Circle. With the plastic climbing toys and the BMX bikes removed from the lawn, Charlotte thought the house next door looked downright glamorous—and a little lonely.
She glanced at the red SOLD sticker slapped across the real estate sign, proof that LoriSue Bettmyer had successfully closed another deal.
“Any more dirt on who bought the house?” Bonnie gave Charlotte a sidelong glance. “Because I’ve got to say that LoriSue’s been weirder than usual about this. Maybe a decade of bleach buildup has finally leached into her brain.”
“That would explain so much.”
As the two giggled like girls, Charlotte scanned the house and its sloped, painstakingly landscaped front yard. “Actually, nothing,” she eventually answered. “It’s strange. All the Connors said is somebody from First National signed the closing documents and the bank is listed as owner. They have no idea who is going to live here—and it’s freaking me out. What if some psycho moves in?”
“Then Ned will have somebody to play with!” Bonnie slid her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders and guided her back toward the house.
They walked up the drive, past a neat row of yellow tulips in full bloom, past the little clumps of lilies of the valley along the front walkway, and to the front door of Charlotte’s tidy two-story Colonial.
Charlotte put her hand on the brass doorknob, then paused. She slowly turned her head. “Tell me I’m being paranoid, Bon. Tell me the new neighbors will be a nice family with two-point-five children and a gerbil.”
“Hmm. Not sure about the gerbil, but I bet you’ll love them, whoever they turn out to be.”
Bonnie pushed open the door and ushered Charlotte inside.
“Besides. You’ve got to remember that Ned and I were a bit worried the day you newlyweds pulled up in your beat-up Chevette. And look at us now. I can’t imagine my life without you and the children.”
Charlotte looked closely at her friend, noticing the crinkles at her eyes, the damp sparkle at her lashes, and knew with certainty that she wouldn’t have survived the last year without Bonnie and Ned Preston.
“Ohio?”
Joe Bellacera’s mouth fell open in shock. Then he lanced Roger Hagerman with one of his trademark menacing stares.
But Roger already knew this was not going to be an easy sell.
“Minton, Ohio, Joe.” He shuffled some papers on his desktop. “Population of just over twenty thousand souls. An hour or so from Cincinnati. Near the scenic and historic Ohio River. Good schools. Decent, patriotic folk.”
“You might as well put a bullet in my brain now and skip the middleman.”
Roger winced. “Only living people can testify in a court of law, as you know.”
