Talented artist Jill Amory is tired of her "Jill of All
Trades, Mistress of None" reputation. She just can't seem
to settle down into the fulfilling, crackerjack career
everyone expects from her. So this is going to be the year
she decides what to do with her life, traveling across the
country to find her bliss. And that means no man —
period! — until she's landed the perfect gig. But destiny, in the form of warmhearted, elderly Charlie
Hartman, has other plans. Charlie's convinced he's a
modern–day Cupid with his eye on Jill for his friend
Spence Jegger, Colorado Springs' resident
marriage–a– phobe. Convincing Spence he's going
to wed the first woman he sees on Valentine's Day might
take some doing...until Spence takes one look at his
intended. Destiny is full of surprises...
Excerpt JILL STOOD in front of the camping supply store and
plotted ways to sell the manager on painting his window
for Valentine's Day. You've backpacked your way into my
heart. Nope. Warm her heart with a Coleman stove. Ugh. My
canteen runneth over with love. Yuck! Of all the stores in this mall, Jegger Outfitters promised
to be the toughest sell, but she liked challenges. Maybe
she'd walk in without a specific window plan, and if the
manager sounded the least bit interested, she'd come up
with an idea on the spot. Sometimes pressure could be
inspirational. That's how she'd snared the optometrist,
with her sudden brainstorm of Give her rose–colored
glasses for Valentine's Day. Jegger Outfitters smelled of canvas, crepe soles and pine
shelving. Old–fashioned picks and shovels hung on the
walls, along with tins for gold panning, old mining claim
maps and a ragged banner that vowed Pikes Peak or Bust. In
the merchandise on the rustic shelves were several camping
items she could have used, but she was here to sell, not
buy. As she continued down the aisle toward the rear of the
store, she overheard an angry voice and a placating one
coming from behind a closed door marked Private. Damn.
Store managers with problems seldom wanted their windows
painted with hearts and flowers. Just then a thin young man in a rumpled cotton shirt and
parachute pants rounded a counter and came toward
her. "Can I help you?" he asked. "My name's Jill
Amory.
I'd like to see the manager please. I think," she
added as
the tirade from behind the door continued, punctuated by
an occasional distinct "Dammit, Charlie," or
"She's crazy." "Uh..." The clerk hesitated and followed the line of her
gaze. "This seems like a bad time. Perhaps I could —"" "No," he said quickly, assessing her with a glance. "I
wouldn't want to make that decision for him." "Thanks, but I could easily come back tomorrow. I'm
taking
orders for valentine window decorations, and it's really
no trouble for me to come back." Jill was certain
rejection lay behind that office door. "No," the young man said again, continuing to appraise
her
from behind wire–rimmed glasses. "Stay right there
and
I'll tell him you're here." His blatant perusal didn't disturb Jill; she was used to
being ogled. In tandem with orders for window decorations
had come several offers for coffee and/or drinks from the
male managers she'd approached. Her polite refusals
hadn't
lost her a single order, which delighted her, confirming
that in the past seven months she'd learned to deal
effectively with predatory men. The clerk rapped on the closed door and without waiting
for clearance, opened it. "Someone to see you,
Spence," he
said. "Who is it?" The voice was still gruff with anger. "Jill Amory. She wants to decorate the windows for
Valentine's Day." Through the open door Jill heard a bark of laughter. "Has
she cleared this with Tippy the Lip?" "I didn't ask." "Well, I don't think —"" Jill sighed, knowing what would come next. "Wait a minute,
Spencer, my boy," interrupted a second,
older–sounding
male voice. "Horace, did you say her last name was Amory?" "I think that's what she told me, Charlie," the
clerk said. "You know her?" "No, but the name is...nice. Is she, ah, young?" "Maybe early twenties." "That's young," said the older man, chuckling.
"Spencer,
couldn't you at least find out what she has in mind?" Jill was grateful for this unknown Charlie who thought she
had a nice name and wanted to give her a chance. At that
point the clerk lowered his voice and she heard only
snatches of his comments. "Foxy–looking brunette,"
came
through pretty clearly, though. "Okay." The man named Spence sounded weary. "Send her
back."
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