Bravo Unwrapped (24 page)

Glory ducked into the cab. B.J. stood at the curb, waving, until the cab disappeared into traffic on the way up the Avenue.

Back in the apartment, B.J. took off her coat, her wool cap and her mittens. Her place seemed too quiet and just a little bit empty, now her friend was gone.

The day stretched ahead of her. She had nothing pressing to do.

Or did she?

There
was
one thing….

B.J. bundled up warmly again and went back downstairs. Melvin held the door for her.

“Merry Christmas, Melvin.”

The old sweetie tipped his hat to her. “Happy holidays, Ms. Carlyle.”

“Oh, Melvin. I so hope you're right about that.”

He helped her into a cab.

“Where to?” asked the cabbie. She gave him Buck's address.

All the way uptown, B.J. stewed. Was she doing the right thing? What if he already had someone else? What if she walked in on him and it was the same as six years ago?

What if he wasn't even there? Or what if he
was
there, all alone—and he told her it was too late, he didn't want to try again…

The snowfall increased. It was coming down thick and heavy as the cab reached Buck's block. B.J. told the cabbie where to pull in. The cab slid up to the curb and she handed the money over the seat.

She got out. The cab pulled away. And she just stood there on the sidewalk, the snow a thick white curtain all around her, not knowing what to do with herself now she'd come this far.

Finally, with snow caked on her shoulders and clumping in her eyelashes, she turned to face the big brick building where Buck lived.

There was no doorman. Just a vestibule lined with mailboxes and an inner door. B.J. still had the key that Buck had given her. She used it and took the elevator to the fifteenth floor.

When she reached his door, she hesitated again. The minutes ticked by as she tried to drum up the guts to ring the bell.

Twice, she started to walk away. But after a few steps, she would realize that if she didn't go the
distance with this now, she might never gather the courage to try again.

And then how would she ever forgive herself?

At last, she made herself do it. She lifted her red-mittened hand and she pushed his doorbell.

After several seconds that seemed like centuries, the door swung inward.

And there he was.

He looked her up and down and then, at last, he said, “It's about damn time.”

“Y
ou're home,” B.J. said, as if stating the obvious might make it more true.

“Got back yesterday.”

“From?”

“A two-week assignment. In Mexico. For
National Geographic.
”

“Oh. Well. I guess I'm lucky I caught you.”
Lucky.
Perfect word. She felt, at that moment, like the luckiest woman in Manhattan—and it got better. He wore khakis, a coffee-colored sweater that matched his eyes and a pair of tan mocs. “You're…fully dressed.”

He almost smiled. “That I am.”

“Are you…” She had to gulp before she could say the rest. “Alone?”

He did smile then. “Yes, I am. I'm decorating my tree. I have popcorn. And hot cocoa.”

“Hot cocoa? No kidding?”

“If you'll come in, I'll be happy to pour you a cup.”

“Well, you know, cocoa sounds lovely.” She stepped inside and he shut the door behind her.

“Let me take your coat.” He helped her out of it, causing those wonderful, zinging little thrills of sensation every time his fingers happened to brush against her shoulders or her arms or, just once, so lightly, the side of her neck. He hung the coat on the rack by the door. “Your gloves and your hat?” She handed them over and he shook the snow from them and hung them with the coat. She gave him her scarf and he hung that up, too.

Then he led her out of the small foyer and into his living room, which faced the park. Beyond the picture window, the snow came down in thick, white swirls.

And in front of the window, on a card table, stood the most pitiful-looking tree B.J. had ever seen. Most of the needles were missing.

“What happened to your poor tree?”

He shoved a box of ornaments aside to clear a place for her on the sofa. “Ma sends me one every year—fresh-cut, from home. Some years it gets here in great shape. This year, not so much…” His voice trailed off. “Here. Have a seat.”

She stayed on her feet. They stared at each other. Finally, she managed huskily, “I've quit
Alpha.
”

“I heard.”

“You did?”

“The world of publishing is a pretty small one.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess it is….”

He regarded her steadily. “Are you sorry you quit?”

She answered without having to even think twice. “No. I'm not. I took your advice to heart, Buck. I truly did. I quit, and I'm glad I did. I've drawn the line on
my father, the way you suggested, and it feels really good.”

“How did L.T. take it?”

“We're not exactly speaking now, L.T. and me.”

“He'll get over it.”

“Yeah. I think that he will. Eventually. And I… Oh, Buck. I've really messed up, and I know it. For all my life, I had this idea that love wasn't for me. But I'm getting past that, I honestly am. And I've been kind of hoping…” She hesitated, but then she forced herself to stumble on. “Oh, Buck, I…”

“Yeah?”

And she went for it, went right, straight to the heart of the matter. “Buck. I love you. I love you so. I think I always have.”

That did it for Buck. He held out his arms to her. She moved into them.

They shared a kiss—a long, deep, hungry one. When he lifted his head, he muttered, “Damn, you had me worried there. I was starting to think maybe you'd never come and get me.”

“I'm here.”

“I can hardly believe it.”

“Consider yourself taken.”

“I love you, Bits. Marry me.” It was a command—but a tender one.

“Oh, yes. I will,” she answered proudly.

And after that, there was no more need for words.

 

The next day, they visited Castle Carlyle to tell L.T. and Jessica the news. Jessica, who loved Christmas almost as much as Chastity Bravo did, had decked the Castle out in true holiday style. She was just thrilled for them.

“Oh,” she said breathlessly. “You're getting married. Isn't that great?”

L.T. surprised them. He was happy, too. “I'm having a grandchild,” he said, “and the more I think about that, the more I like it. B.J. Buck. Feel free to thank me now.”

“Excuse me,” said B.J. “We should thank you for what?”

“For getting the two of you together, that's what. If it wasn't for my stepping in and talking Buck into writing the Christmas feature, the two of you wouldn't even be on speaking terms.”

B.J. couldn't let that go without calling him on it. “As I recall, you had
me
writing it.”

“Harumph. Well. And that didn't last, now, did it? Buck wrote it and it is brilliant. Very possibly, that issue will be our bestselling ever.”

“Dad. Why is it that whenever there's credit to be taken, you're always the first one to claim it?”

“You think I got where I am today by being shy? So what about it? Thanks
are
in order and I'm ready to accept them.”

Buck spoke up then, graciously. “Thanks, L.T.”

“Ahem. All right, then. You're welcome, both of you.”

Next, L.T. admitted that he wanted B.J. back at
Alpha.

“I've had my ear to the ground on this,” he announced. “I happen to know you turned down the offer from
TopMale.
I'm guessing you want your job back and I'm willing to give it to you—in fact, I'm willing, after serious thought and weighty consideration, to move you on to the next level, after all. Editor-in-chief, B.J. Take it. It's yours.”

“I thought I told you, with the baby coming, I'm not going to be working eighty-hour weeks anymore.”

“I know that. We'll deal with it.”

“What about Bob Alvera?”

“I have other plans for Bob.”

“Scary,” B.J. said under her breath.

“What was that?” L.T. growled.

She twined her fingers with Buck's. “We'll talk shop later, Dad. Right now, let's break out the sparkling fruit juice and share a toast.”

Jessica rang the service bell and Roderick came in bearing a sterling silver tray: champagne for Buck and Jessica, fruit juice for B.J. and L.T.

“Roderick,” said her father. “You'll have a little bubbly with us, I trust?”

The faithful retainer allowed that just this once, he might.

B.J. took it upon herself to propose the toast.

“To the season,” she declared. “To hope. To keeping the faith—and to real men everywhere.” Her father preened. B.J. granted him a fond and tolerant smile and then turned to Buck. She raised her glass high. “Men who are strong enough to be tender, smart enough to know what they want, shrewd enough to get out and go after it—and sure enough to stay the course on the rocky road to love.”

Author Interview: A Conversation with Christine Rimmer

Recipe: Sierra Star Pumpkin Muffins

The Ballad of Blake Bravo

The Bravos: Heroes, Heroines and Their Stories

Sneak Peek: BRAVO FAMILY WAY by Christine Rimmer

USA TODAY bestselling author Christine Rimmer has written more than fifty novels for Silhouette Books. Recently she chatted with us as she took a break from writing her latest book.

Please tell us a bit about how you began your writing career.

I always loved to write. Somewhere in my twenties I began to realize that I wanted someone to
pay
me to write so I could do it for a living and not have to work all those draining day jobs. For several years I kind of felt my way along. I have a background in theater; I wrote several plays. I tried my hand at poetry and short stories. I wrote scripts for self-help tapes and a pilot for a TV show. (Never sold. Title:
Pet Patrol.
And I think that's all anyone needs to know. ) The whole time I struggled trying to
find my place in the writing world, I read romances to decompress, to sweep me away from my daily troubles. Then I just happened to read an article in
Writer's Digest
magazine about a romance boom. I decided to try my hand at romance. I studied hundreds of romances—no hardship, believe me. My first romance went to Harlequin Temptation and I've been a romance writer ever since.

Was there a particular person, place or thing that inspired this story?

I love a strong heroine. I wanted to write how a real powerhouse, go-getter career woman finally finds the love of her life. So I did.

What's your writing routine?

Writing is my job. I work about eight hours a day at least five days a week.

How do you research your stories?

The usual sources: books on any given subject, sometimes interviews with experts, magazine articles. The children's section of the library is very useful for the basic info on a setting—clear, well-organized information with lots of pictures! Oh, and the Internet. I don't know how I got along without it. But I have it now and that's what matters.

How you do develop your characters?

Tough question. I used to do character charts and “interview” my characters. I used to write long character histories. But over the years it's pretty much become intuitive. I try to keep peeling down to find the deepest truth hidden within any given character's psyche. I'm looking for the secrets they're keeping from themselves….

If you don't mind, could you tell us a bit about your family?

I'm a native Californian. My dad and mom grew up in the same small mountain town, two of a four-person high school class. They're still going strong over sixty years later. I have a loving husband and two sons and two cuddly cats named Tom and Ed.

When you're not writing, what are your favorite activities?

Reading. Playing Trivial Pursuit. Watching Lifetime movies…yum. Oh, and I enjoy gardening. And travel when I can find the time.

What are your favorite kinds of vacations? Where do you like to travel?

Someplace tropical. Blue seas and white beaches…

Do you have a favorite book or film?

Recently, I've been enjoying the Whitley Strieber vampire books:
The Hunger, The Last Vampire
and
Lilith's Dream.
And I loved
The Other Boleyn Girl
by Philippa Gregory.

Marsha Zinberg, Executive Editor, Signature Select program, spoke with Christine Rimmer at her home in Oklahoma.