Harlequin American Romance
December 2009
On Sale: December 8, 2009
Featuring: Eric Sepulveda; Alina Allinova
224 pages ISBN: 0373752911 EAN: 9780373752911 Mass Market Paperback Add to Wish List
"Don't look now, but there's a really hot guy watching
you."
"Oh?" Alina Allinova started to turn and scan
the crowd gathered for the culmination of Crested Butte's
Vinotok fall festival.
Her friend Marissa Alvarez put
a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Don't look. He's
staring right at us." She giggled. "Really, he can't take
his eyes off you. It's like he's in love with
you."
Alina's stomach fluttered. The idea of a
handsome stranger falling instantly in love with her was
preposterous, but wonderfully romantic and exciting. The
kind of thing she'd fantasized about, though she'd never
admit it out loud. "If you won't let me look at him, at
least tell me what he looks like," she said. "Is he
blond?"
"No, not blond. His hair is
brown."
"Oh." Not that it really mattered… "Maybe
it's that dark blond that looks brown in a certain light. Is
he a big guy?"
Marissa shook her head. "Not that big.
And his hair is a very dark brown, almost
black."
Alina turned all the way around and caught
the eye of the stranger.
Her heart sped up again.
Okay, he was good-looking. Dark brown hair fell across his
forehead, above a pair of eyes the color of roasted coffee
beans that seemed to stare right through her. When their
gazes met, he smiled, revealing perfect white teeth against
his olive skin.
"Girl, how are you even standing here
with a man watching you like that?" Marissa whispered. "I'd
be melting right into the ground if a gorgeous guy ever
looked at me that way."
The man took a step toward
them. Alina immediately whirled around, embarrassed to be
caught staring.
Marissa grabbed her arm. "Why are you
turning away? Hello? The man is hot."
Alina didn't
have time to explain. Mr. Gorgeous was by her side. "Hi, I'm
Eric Sepulveda," he said, offering his hand.
Alina
went wobbly in the knees when he took her hand, and
immediately felt ridiculous. "Alina Allinova," she said, and
withdrew her fingers from his, though the warmth of his
touch lingered on her skin.
"Where are you from,
Alina?" he asked. "Not from around here, I'm
guessing."
That smile again, which sent her stomach
fluttering wildly. Get a grip, girl. "I'm from
Gunnison," she said. She said it merely to be contrary—she
knew that wasn't what he'd meant. Her accent gave her away
as a foreigner as soon as she opened her mouth, though
people couldn't always place her country of
origin.
"Are you a student at the college?" he
asked.
"No, I'm a respiratory therapist at Gunnison
Valley Hospital."
"Then I can't believe I haven't see
you before. I'm over there all the time."
She arched
one eyebrow. "What brings you to the hospital so much?" Did
he have an ill family member? He certainly looked
healthy enough. He wasn't that tall—maybe five ten or so—but
he had muscular shoulders and a slim waist.
He
laughed, a completely masculine sound that served only to
stoke the fire of her libido. "No, I'm a paramedic," he
said. "We make fairly regular runs to GVH."
"I work
on the floor." She was occasionally called upon to treat a
patient in the E.R., but she'd never run into Eric before.
She wouldn't have forgotten him if she had.
The crowd
surged around them, forcing them closer together. Someone
behind her bumped into her and Eric put out his hand to
steady her. She couldn't stop herself from leaning into him,
aware of the strength and warmth in his grip, catching a
whiff of the subtle spice of his cologne. What in the world
was happening to her? She hadn't even had anything to drink
tonight, yet she felt giddy and a little out of
control.
"Where are you from before you came to
Gunnison?" Eric asked.
"Croatia. In Maksimer, part of
the capital, Zagreb." She savored the names on her tongue,
the familiar sounds of home that she didn't have the chance
to say too often.
"I hear Croatia's a beautiful
country," he said.
At least he hadn't asked if all
the girls in Croatia were as beautiful as her, or said there
must be something in the water there or some similar line,
all of which she'd heard multiple times from college
students, ski bums and various local Lotharios. The women in
her family were generally considered beauties, so she'd
dealt with her fair share of attention all her life. As a
result, she appreciated a little originality from any man
who was interested in her.
Trying not to stare, she
checked his hair again. No way he'd ever been close to
blond.
The crowd roared with laughter, and Alina
turned to see one of the characters in the closing play—some
guy in pink tights and doublet—in the throes of an overly
dramatic death scene while a man in a dragon suit nearby did
a jig.
"Have you been to Vinotok before?" Eric asked,
his mouth very close to her ear.
"No," she answered,
eyes still focused on the players, though every part of her
was aware of the man standing so close. "I read in the paper
that this was based on an old Yugoslavian wine festival, so
I wanted to see if anything about it was familiar." At his
puzzled look, she hastened to explain, "Croatia used to be
part of Yugoslavia."
Eric glanced at the actors. A
woman with a dozen or so small children gathered about her
was speaking. "Do they do this kind of thing in Croatia?" he
asked.
Alina laughed. "No. We have a lot of local
celebrations in my country, but nothing like this." A man
dressed entirely in green, his skin painted green, as well,
joined the woman with all the children.
"Crested
Butte is kind of known for originality when it comes to
holidays," Eric said.
Alina nodded. In the eight
months she'd lived in Gunnison, Colorado, she and friends
had made numerous trips to the smaller mountain town to ski,
hike, bike or enjoy the shops and restaurants on the
picturesque main street. The people were friendly, the
scenery beautiful and there was always something to do and
see.
A collective sigh rose from the crowd, and Alina
stood on tiptoe, attempting to see what all the fuss was
about. The man in green was kneeling before the woman, who
stared at him, a stunned look on her
face.
The woman pulled the man to his feet and kissed
him. The crowd roared and cheered, and behind the happy
couple a large papier-mâché figure burst into
flame.
"What is that?" Alina asked.
"That's
the Grump," Eric said. "For the past couple of weeks there
have been boxes in stores and restaurants all over town.
People write down their complaints and gripes and anything
they want out of their lives. Then the boxes are stuffed
inside the Grump and burned so that everyone starts winter
with a clean slate. It's a good idea when you think about
it."
She nodded. The man and woman were still
kissing. Alina couldn't help feeling a little envious. Not
that she didn't have a good life, but something was still
missing— romance, love, the happily ever after she'd dreamed
of since she was a girl, the life she'd been
promised.
Music blared. The actor in the
pink doublet was playing an electric guitar and other
musicians had joined him. Alina and Eric were pushed to the
edge of the crowd by others who surged forward to dance.
Alina looked around for Marissa and spotted her with a lanky
intern on whom Marissa had a crush—the real reason the two
friends had headed to Vinotok in the first place, since the
intern had told them that afternoon he expected to
attend.
"Do you ski?" Eric asked when they were far
enough from the noise and clamor to talk.
"Ski? Oh,
yes." A ski pass was part of her employee benefits in the
exchange program between American and Eastern European
hospitals. "Yes, I love to ski."
"That's terrific.
I'm a ski patroller at Crested Butte Mountain
Resort."
"I thought you said you were a
paramedic."
"I do both. The jobs go together when you
think about it." He had a really nice smile—good teeth and a
dimple on the right side of his mouth.
But more than
looks drew her to Eric. When his coffee-brown eyes looked
into hers, she felt a tug on her heart—a not at all
unpleasant sensation. If he could make her feel this way
with one look, what else might lay in store for them? She
couldn't remember the last time a man had held her attention
this way.
"I'm from Gunnison, too," he said. "My
family has lived there for years."
"Do you live with
your parents?" she asked.
"Yeah. I've thought about
getting a place of my own, but it's expensive, and I'd be
over there all the time anyway. I guess some people think
it's weird, a guy my age still living at home."
"How
old are you?" He looked about her age, but it was tough to
tell sometimes.
"Twenty-six."
"I'm almost
twenty-seven."
There was no mistaking the electricity
arcing between them. She couldn't account for this kind of
instant connection. It didn't happen outside of books and
movies, did it?
"I think it's great that you're close
to your family," she said. "If I was in Croatia, I'd still
live with my parents. It's expected in our culture that
children stay at home until they marry. And as you say, it's
practical, too. Housing is expensive."
"Do you have a
big family? Brothers and sisters?"
"Two sisters.
They're both married now, so only my mother and father and
Aunt Oksana are left at home." Which wasn't where she grew
up anyway, but a new apartment in downtown Zagreb.
"I
have two older sisters," Eric said. "And four older
brothers."
"Seven children!" Families so large were
rare in Croatia.
"Yeah, it's a big bunch. Of course,
they're all married and out of the house now, most of them
with kids of their own, so it's just my mom and dad and
grandmother and me at home. But we're a pretty close bunch,
so at least one of my brothers or sisters and their families
are over almost every day."
"That's nice." Alina felt
a pang of homesickness. She missed her own family. On
holidays all the women gathered to prepare a big meal and
gossip. From the time she could walk she and her sisters
were welcomed into this exclusive female territory. They'd
be given simple, menial chores like sorting beans or filling
salt cellars and would sit for hours, enthralled by the
stories, jokes and gossip of the older women. She missed
that warm camaraderie, that feeling of being part of a
special group, of sharing a family history that went back
for centuries.
Those holidays in the family kitchen
were when her grandmother Fania had first told her about the
blond man she'd one day marry—the one she'd been waiting in
vain for all these years.
When Alina was fifteen, her
grandmother had announced one morning that she had dreamed
Alina's future. No one was surprised at this; Baka
Fania was known for her ability to predict the future.
She had been born with a caul, or a veil of tissue, over her
face and had gypsy blood on her grandmother's side—to
everyone's way of thinking, it would have been more
surprising if she hadn't been able to see things before they
happened.
"What kind of future did you see for me?"
Alina asked.
"I saw a big blond man, very handsome."
The old woman grinned. "He is the key to your future
happiness. Find this man and all will be well."
Alina
had been looking for the big blond ever since.
"How
long have you been in the United States?" Eric
asked.
"Almost a year. I came as part of an exchange
program for skilled technicians between Croatian hospitals
and hospitals in the United States."
Her parents had
been horrified when she told them she'd signed up for the
program. "No one else in our family has been to the United
States," her mother had scolded. "Why do you need to
go?"
"I want to see what it's like. To meet new
people." Not to mention she'd already dated every eligible
man in their small town at least once and none of them had
sparked any real feelings in her. Her sisters were happily
married with homes of their own, and Alina wanted that, too.
Since she hadn't found the man of her dreams in her
hometown, she reasoned it was time to be a little more
daring and try something new. Some place new.
But she
only had three and a half months left before her work visa
expired, and her dream man had so far failed to
materialize.
Maybe Baka Fania had been
wrong. Or maybe old-time prophecy didn't apply in the
twenty-first century.
"Some friends and family are
getting together tomorrow afternoon for a barbecue at my
house," Eric said. "You should come."
She started to
say no. With only a few months left in the States, she had
no business starting anything with a new man, no matter how
handsome he was. But Eric's smile made her forget common
sense and she found herself nodding. "Yes, I'd like that,"
she said.
"Great." He patted his pockets. "Do you
have a piece of paper? I'll write down the
address."
She searched her purse until she found a
flyer about upcoming emergency training at the hospital and
handed it to him. He scribbled an address and a few lines of
directions. "It's really easy to find," he said. "Show up
around two. It's going to be fun."
"All right." It
would be nice to get to know him better.
"I'm looking
forward to seeing you again," Eric said, his eyes locked to
hers.
She nodded, struck dumb by the intensity of his
gaze and surprised at the strength of her attraction to
someone who was so unlike the man of her dreams.
Eric
lingered so long at the Vinotok celebration he was almost
late for his shift with Gunnison Valley Emergency Medical
Services. As he clipped on his radio, his friend Maddie
Ansdar emerged from the office. "I was beginning to think
you weren't going to show up," she said.
"I stopped
by Vinotok," he said.
"How did it go?"
"Silly
as usual. Zephyr stole the show with his turn as Sir
Hapless."
"What about Max?" Maddie asked. "Wasn't he
the Green Man?"
"I thought so, but Jack Crenshaw took
his place—and then proposed to Tanya Bledso, right there in
front of the burning Grump."
"How romantic!" Maddie's
expression took on the soft, goopy look women wore at the
mention of weddings, babies or other such subjects. Eric's
sisters were no different. And Maddie was probably more
susceptible than most, since she'd been married only a few
months to Eric's fellow ski patroller, Hagan Ansdar.