Silver Spoon (2 page)

Zipping her small car into an empty parking space in the back row of the gym's lot, she grabbed her purse, locked and shut the door, then ran for the front door. Her boss, though easygoing, frowned on tardiness, a fact clearly explained at her orientation a few months back.

With a burst of speed, she rounded the corner and yanked the door open only to run into a brick wall. "Ohhh."

Large strong hands grabbed her arms, steadying her before she tumbled to the cement. Gaining her balance, she looked up into the face of her rescuer. Short dark brown hair, a shade darker than his eyes, topped a large framed man, with an athletic build and toned muscles. The top of her head nearly reached his clean shaven chin. Smooth skin and a firm jaw relayed confidence and hinted at his age.

She sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry. I was…"

He set her away from him with a mumbled word as he continued on his way, his friend glancing at her with an apologetic expression. Not only didn't the man speak directly to her, but he barely even noticed her except that she stood in his path. If anything, he looked right through her before the curt dismissal. Rude and inexcusable.

With a growl of annoyance, she yanked the door open once more.
Men!
Some of them remained solidly in the caveman days. Surprising they didn't beat their chests with their fists more often, carry clubs, wear animal skins, and drag women to their cave by the hair with their primitive attitudes.

Just another reason she didn't have a boyfriend or even a date. Her personal philosophy clashed mightily with such barbaric behavior. Riley preferred to be the one carrying the club and choosing her own men. Luckily, in present day, she enjoyed the luxury of being a single woman, supporting herself, and not requiring a man for anything. Complete freedom and independence from dictating and demanding males. A blessing, in her mind.

Heading inside, she returned to her station, dropped the purse into a bottom drawer, then settled down on a stool with a fake smile plastered on her face. Splitting time between looking out the glass door and the people inside working out, she drifted back into thought.

In all honesty, she enjoyed her job at the gym. Her position as receptionist and greeter allowed her nice benefits despite the low pay. She carried insurance and had permission to use the upscale gym anytime she wanted, as long as she clocked out first. The work, mundane to some, allowed for little stress and much repetition. Most of the members politely spoke or waved as they came in or left, even if few actually stopped long enough for an actual conversation. On slower days, she sat and watched the prime males of the species in their workouts, mesmerized by the muscle movements as they rippled just under the skin with various exercises. Eye candy for sure and research for her books.

In her free time, she wrote romance novels. With five published books on the market, she worked hard to stay ahead of the game in order to keep new releases coming out at consistent intervals. While most considered it another job, she found it more like a hobby, one she thoroughly enjoyed. Writing allowed her to escape to other lands, a different time or setting. The hero proved gorgeous, well off, and chivalrous, the heroine beautiful and brave. Together, they would find adventure, danger, and true love.

So much different from her own life, full of work, hassles, obnoxious people, and a strict budget.

Her thoughts returned to the man that nearly bowled her over earlier. He qualified for the yummy part of her favored man; the rest of his behavior fell short of her ideal. Perhaps she set her standard unreasonably high, expecting a modern day man to compete with her fictional world heroes. Yet, the thought of accepting something less left her sullen and drained. No, if she ever found a man, he would have to fit the bill. Otherwise, she would be settling for less than her dream. In that instance, she might as well drag her sorry rear back to her father and marry one of the half dozen suitors he'd lined up over the years.

Resolve straightened her spine. No way. She believed in romance and a freedom to choose who she would spend her life with even if she never found the right person and died an old spinster. It was still her choice. Riley had marched away from a fortune four years ago when she'd stood up to her father, adamantly refusing to live under his thumb any longer. With little money and nowhere to go, she'd tested out her wings for the first time and learned that each time she fell, it became easier to take flight once more, in search of not only happiness, but herself as well.

"You still have that book signing tomorrow evening?" Marissa, one of the aerobics instructors asked from across the desk.

Riley beamed. "I do. Six pm sharp." She slid off the stool and ambled closer.

"Corner Bookstore?"

"Yep. The one about two blocks from here. I'm so excited. My first book signing. I'm still dumbfounded they agreed to it."

The tall, lean redhead shook her head. "Why not? You're a star in the making."

"Uh, huh. In my dreams. Most authors have to keep their day jobs, you know. Writing is pretty much a hobby that provides supplemental income instead of vast wealth."

"Either way, I'll be there." Marissa gave a quick wave then departed, her gym bag hoisted over her shoulder.

Watching her go, Riley rubbed her hands together in anticipation. She still couldn't believe a publisher not only contracted one book, but five to date, let alone that the largest bookstore in the city agreed to purchase cases of her print books in order to sell during a book signing. Magic, in her eyes.

Settling back on her seat, she glanced at the clock. Two more hours before she could escape and dash home. In the meantime, more members trickled in, giving her another opportunity to consider each one as potential cover models for her characters.

Too bad the Neanderthal that about knocked her down stuck his nose in the air in a blatant snub. From her brief look, he was made for prime cover model material. Tall, dark, and handsome, confident airs with athletic skills and abilities to warrant respect.

With that image, her mind returned to her latest book, pondering what trouble the characters could run into next on their road to romance.

Chapter 3

Spoon shouldered his way through the dense crowd, frowning at the mass of humanity blocking his way. The one day he decided to stop by the bookstore to pick up a new release, on his way to a night out fishing for a sexy bed partner, it just happened to be packed to the ceiling with shoppers.

His gaze cast across the immense space, catching sight of the problem. Lines of people, mostly women, stood waiting patiently for their turn to speak to a young woman sitting at a small table.
A book signing.
Grumbling under his breath, he changed course to avoid the worst of the traffic jam, marching past aisles full of books before circling back, on the other side of the room. With the adventure genre directly ahead, he turned his head, and stopped in his tracks.

A bell of recognition rang loudly. He knew the author signing books. But from where?

Her crimson curls, cut to just above the shoulder, framed her round face. Bright green eyes twinkled in the light, broadcasting intelligence and happiness with her present activity. While not a raving beauty, she appeared well put together with curves in all the right places. Pretty. And, if her works actually were published, she had to possess a decent brain. She might not stand out in a crowd of beauty contestants, but something about her intrigued him.

If only he could remember where he knew her from.

Forgetting his hurry to grab up the book he came for, Spoon stood transfixed, kicking his brain into high gear. Easing closer, he picked up on some of the conversations among those waiting in line. Nothing really helped him put his finger on the elusive information.

As he stood there, the line dwindled and gradually dissipated, leaving the woman to her own devices. Striding over, he paused in front of the small table. "Where do I know you from?"

Glancing up, she pasted on a smile. "The gym?"

He snapped his fingers. "That's it. You work there." His mouth turned into a frown. "Why would you work there if you're a published author? I thought they made good money from book sales."

She patted the empty seat next to her.

Maneuvering around the table, he sat down next to her.

"That's a common myth about writers. Honestly, like in most other businesses, writers have to pay their dues. They aren't normally best sellers their first time out. Or their second. Or their tenth." She took a deep breath. "I like to compare writing books to singers. There are tons of singers out there, but very few overall make it to a Grammy nomination. The same with authors. Most of us have to keep our day jobs in order to support our hobbies."

Her words rang a bell with him, now that he actually thought about it. The analogy could just as easily carry to professional athletes or even generals in the military. Certainly a common scenario in many professions. "That makes sense."

Picking up a paperback book resting on the table in front of him, he studied the cover. A man bare from the waist up stared back at him while a silver colored wolf poised in the background, his keen yellow gaze intent upon the man. Spoon flipped the book over, quickly reading the back. He smiled slightly. "Werewolf?"

She shrugged, her grin softening from the earlier stiffness. "It's what came to me."

He shook his head. "I don't understand why women read and watch this"—he flicked his hand toward a long set of shelves—"paranormal stuff."

"Read one. At worst you will know why women like it. At best,
you
will actually like it." She nodded toward the book still clasped in his hand.

Hearing the challenge in her voice, he straightened his back. "What if I don't like it?"

"I'll personally give you a refund."

He nodded abruptly. "Deal." Standing, he stepped away from the table before pausing and turning back. "I didn't even ask. What's your name?"

She chuckled, a light and gleeful sound that reminded him of the first songbirds returning in the spring after a long winter.

"Riley. Riley Bordeaux."

"I'm Aidan. My friends call me Spoon."

"Spoon? That's an unusual nickname." Her head tilted in puzzlement.

He shot her a quick smile. "Have dinner with me tonight and I'll tell you all about it."

She blinked a few times before she managed to recover. With a wide-eyed look, she shot him a tentative grin. "I'd like that."

"Good. When are you done here?"

She checked her watch. "Twenty more minutes."

"I'll pay for this then meet you back here. How do you feel about cheeseburgers?"

"I love them."

With one more glance, he headed to the front of the store to buy the book. Luckily, he found another display that held the hardback action novel he initially came in for, otherwise he would have forgotten it entirely, as captivated as he was with Riley. Waiting in line, he pondered why he'd just invited a perfect stranger, one that he must have overlooked at the gym a dozen times or more, out to eat.

As callous as it sounded, seeing her tonight in a new light brought her to his attention, whereas he'd typically paid little attention to the sideline workers at places he frequented often, the gym, the grocery store, the bank. Not that he considered them beneath him, he just focused on the task at hand, not the various individuals around him. Sure, he always scanned for anything appearing out of place or erratic, but when everything checked out, he possessed a single track mind. And overlooked a pretty redhead with glittering emerald eyes.

Riley. The name suited her. Atypical and different. Pretty and easy to talk to, she exuded confidence, kindness, and hinted at a good sense of humor. All top priorities in his list for the opposite sex.

For a fleeting second, he considered his earlier plans of hitting the bars in search of a hot, willing woman to share his bed tonight. As soon as the thought came, he discarded it like a stained napkin after lunch. In all honesty, the constant search and find mission of bar hopping and one-night stands hit the level of nearly boring. He would share a few hours of empty sex with a woman he just met but didn't even know her last name, before parting before dawn. That worked just fine. Until now.

Riley sparked his interest in a way no other woman had in a long time.

Might as well give it a shot.
He had nothing to lose by taking her out to see if the brightness wore off after a couple hours in her company. If all else failed, the bar scene would still be there next week.

* * * *

Yesterday, he'd nearly bulldozed her over like a mere stop sign on an empty and isolated road. Today, he asked her out to eat. Talk about a crazy world and the difference a day can make.

Riley mentally shook her head, still reeling from the drastic turnabout in such a short period of time. So what if they landed at a Mom and Pop old fashioned malt shop? The laid-back atmosphere suited a get-to-know-one-another situation fairly well. Who was she to complain either way? Her first date in months included a gorgeous pin-up model with a bit of mystery. For that she would eat bologna sandwiches on a park bench.

"What do you do for a living?" She tossed out the first pitch.

"That's confidential." He stuffed a fry in his mouth.

She blinked at him. The declaration both surprised and unsettled her. Most men, if nothing else, bragged about their careers, even made up ones. "As in, you could tell me but then you'd have to kill me?"

He nodded. "Something like that."

Oh, good grief. Perhaps she should consider calling a taxi instead of riding back alone with him to the bookstore parking lot. "So, what
can
you tell me about yourself?"

Spoon met her gaze as he slurped on his straw. "Let's see. I'm employed. A Leo. In good health and like to read."

Not satisfied with the short list, she prodded him for more. "Any exes, kids, pets?"

"None of the above. You?"