Mistletoe Between Friends (14 page)

Back at her desk, she sank down in her chair and sighed. In the past year, she'd done more than her share of lackluster interviews. It was supposed to build character, Tommy had told her. Only she had hoped by building her character, she'd start getting the assignments she really wanted. Better yet, she'd get first choice of incoming assignments.

No such luck.

While she knew she owed a lot to Tommy Vaughn—hell, she probably
would
still be cutting hair if it weren't for him—it didn't mean she had to like him.

And right now, she didn't.

The decision to stay and work or leave and vent warred in her head. Tapping her keyboard, she watched her computer come back to life and immediately began a Google search on Riley. Instantly there were dozens, if not hundreds, of pictures, links, and blurbs about him. Not that it was surprising, but Savannah wasn't one who subscribed to the motto of more is better. Her first hit went to Wikipedia.

Riley Shaughnessy is an American singer-songwriter, record producer, philanthropist, and actor, best known as the founder and front man of the rock band Shaughnessy. During his career, he released four studio albums with his band, which to date have sold over fifty million albums worldwide, making them one of the world's bestselling music artists. Currently Riley is embarking on a solo career.

“Bor-ing.” Savannah sighed and then clicked through photos of Riley throughout his career. Tall, lanky, dark hair…all things she normally found very yummy in a man. So why did it make her almost want to sneer when it was this particular man? He had the look—the sexy grin, the earring, and probably had a tattoo. She snorted. “Typical rock star.”

She skimmed the rest—four brothers, one sister. Mother dead, father alive. Grew up in North Carolina. No marriages. Just the basics.

With Riley doing his solo thing, Savannah did a quick search to see what the rest of the boys in the band were doing with their time. “Hmmm,” she began, unconsciously reading out loud, “Matt ‘Matty' Reed is writing the music for a Broadway musical and starring in it. Not bad.”

Scrolling down a bit, she continued. “Dylan Anders, the partier of the group, has been popping up onstage with various other artists…drunk. Lovely.”
Scroll, scroll, scroll.
“And last but not least…Julian Grayson.” She sat back and almost smiled. “Just got married and has a baby on the way. He's taken up photography in his downtime and has no musical plans at the present.” She nodded with approval. “Good for him.”

Okay, maybe this assignment wouldn't be the worst thing…

“Hey, Van,” Blake Jordan said as he sauntered by her desk—using the nickname he knew she hated. “Tough break about the Coldplay story. I promise I'll give Chris and the boys your regards.”

Once he was out of sight, she flipped him the bird. “Bite me.”

Now she was even more ticked off than she had been five minutes ago. Knowing she wasn't going to accomplish anything here, she closed her laptop and packed it up—along with a few other items—and made her way out to the parking lot. The sun was shining as she fished around in her oversized purse for her sunglasses. Sliding them on, she hastily combed her long black hair out of the way and trudged to her car, cursing Tommy, Blake, and Riley Shaughnessy the entire time.

Once she climbed into her Jeep, Savannah secured her computer bag and purse and then pulled a clip out of the glove compartment and clipped up her hair. Driving such an open vehicle had become a love-hate relationship. Deep down, she loved her Jeep. It was her to a T. It just wasn't conducive to her long hair. Luckily hers was pin-straight and it didn't matter if the wind blew it or she clipped it up or threw a baseball cap over it, it was still going to look the same. And really, doing all those things was for her own safety—she'd learned relatively quickly that long hair, wind, and open sides on a vehicle were not a good combination.

Never let it be said Savannah Daly needed a ton of bricks to fall on her.

Pulling out onto the main strip, she began to drive aimlessly. It seemed too early to go home, but there wasn't any place in particular she wanted to go. With a muttered curse, she forced herself to just drive for a while—to enjoy the sights and sounds of the city. Not that downtown L.A. was anything spectacular, but it had the potential to be a good distraction.

An hour later, traffic was becoming more of an issue and Savannah decided she'd pretty much cooled off enough. She could go home and think about this new assignment without feeling an immediate urge to strangle someone. The next right turn would lead her to the freeway, which would—in turn—take her home. Her stomach growled loudly and she cursed again. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…I was supposed to food shop yesterday,” she said.

Knowing that shopping for groceries was even less appealing than doing research on Riley Shaughnessy, she stayed on the road and opted to find someplace to grab takeout.

“All the usual suspects,” she murmured as she flew by restaurants and cafés. Did she really want to go home and eat? Shaking her head, Savannah knew at this rate with traffic, any food she purchased would be cold by the time she arrived at her home. That left a sandwich or salad to go or dining alone at the restaurant of her choice.

Suddenly, the thought of a sandwich became really appealing. No need to go for anything fancy. She could grab a sandwich and maybe hit the beach. She'd driven far enough that she was minutes away from Hermosa Beach. “Okay, for once, my aimless driving has paid off.” Slowly, she drove through town and found a place to park. Grabbing her bags, Savannah felt at peace. The sun, the sand, the surf…and a sandwich. Not a bad way to spend the early evening hours. She was thankful for the currently cool California weather.

With so many places to choose from and her stomach getting more and more vocal, she found a small bar and grille with outdoor seating facing the beach and opted to go there. A burger was just like a sandwich, wasn't it? And sitting at a table was a bit more civilized than the sand. The hostess led her to a table for one, and Savannah smiled and got herself situated. It was tempting to take out her laptop and do some work, but she opted to go with just taking out her phone and checking email.

She ordered her dinner and a drink and was happily scrolling through her inbox when someone slammed into the back of her chair, nearly causing her to drop her phone. There was no apology and Savannah turned around and glared at the culprit. The guy had his back to her and essentially had his chair right up against hers. Seriously? Was this guy for real?

Unable to help herself, she nudged her chair back with a little more force than was probably necessary and waited to see if he'd acknowledge her now.

He didn't.

He wore a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and a newspaper opened to the point where it was practically a wall; Savannah decided the guy was clearly a jerk. Rather than getting into a fight with him, she moved her chair around to another side of the table—and found herself still looking out at the beach. Smiling, she went back to her phone, pulled up the camera, and took a couple shots of the sun on the water. Yeah, it was beautiful and peaceful. There was a light breeze that felt glorious and…

There was a newspaper in her face.

“You have got to be kidding me!” she snapped as she peeled the paper from her face, crumpling it up. It didn't matter if the wind blew and it was an accident, this guy was seriously messing with her peaceful evening and she was done playing nice. “Hey!” she said as she tapped the guy on the shoulder.

He looked up at her, but between the sun and the cap basically shielding his face, Savannah had no idea what the guy looked like.

“Seriously, you bang into my chair, your newspaper blows in my face, and you can't be bothered with an apology?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

“Um…sorry,” he mumbled and took the crumpled paper from her hands and turned back to his table.

“That's it? That's all you have to say?”

Without turning around, he said, “You asked for an apology and I gave you one.”

Well damn. He had her there. “Oh yeah… Well…fine. Just…keep your crap on your table, okay? I'm trying to relax over here.” When he made no further comment, Savannah went back to her seat. Within minutes, her meal was in front of her and she felt all the tension leaving her body—a good burger could do that for a girl.

And the fries were damn near orgasmic.

She let out a little moan of pleasure and noticed Mr. Personality was staring at her. She saw he hadn't ordered any food yet. The waitress had inquired several times, but he continued to send her away.

His loss.

When she looked over and saw he was still staring, she put her burger down and stared back. “Problem?”

He shook his head. “I was just wondering what it was you ordered that had you sounding like that.”

“Like what?”

“Really?” he said with what sounded suspiciously like sarcasm.

Rolling her eyes, she motioned to her plate. “Bacon cheeseburger—pepper jack cheese, avocado…the works. And fries.” She picked one up. “These are the culprits. They're so good they should be illegal.”

He chuckled. “I don't think I've ever heard someone describe French fries that way.”

“Trust me.”

“I guess I'll have to,” he said and for a minute, he just sat back and smiled at her.

“Look…um… Can you turn around? You know, go back to your reading? You're starting to freak me out. And besides, didn't your parents ever tell you it's rude to stare?”

He laughed again. “As a matter of fact they have. But I wasn't a very good listener.”

“So it's a lifelong problem?”

“Tell you what, you let me have one of your moan-inducing fries and I'll go back to reading my paper and leave you alone.”

“Is that a promise?”

He nodded. “Scout's honor.”

Somehow she couldn't envision this guy ever having been a Boy Scout, but whatever. Watching him warily, she picked up a fry and held it out for him. “One fry and then you turn back around so I can eat without an audience, right?”

He nodded again when suddenly the wind picked up, and in the blink of an eye, Savannah's napkin blew off her lap. She bent over to reach it at the same time he bent over to help her. Their heads bumped and with a startled “
ow
” coming from both of them, Savannah reached up to touch her head. On the ground was his baseball cap. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for it. After she had her napkin safely back in place, she realized she was still holding the French fry.

“Hey, aren't you gonna…” She looked up and gasped.

Staring back at her was none other than Riley Shaughnessy.

For more Samantha Chase
check out The Shaughnessy Brothers series

This Is Our Song

On sale December 2016

New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Samantha Chase released her debut novel,
Jordan's Return
, in November 2011. Although she waited until she was in her forties to publish for the first time, writing has been a lifelong passion. Her motivation was her students: teaching creative writing to elementary-age students all the way up through high school and encouraging those students to follow their writing dreams gave Samantha the confidence to take that step as well.

When she's not working on a new story, Samantha spends her time reading contemporary romances, blogging, playing way too many games of Scrabble or solitaire on Facebook, and spending time with her husband of twenty-five years and their two sons in North Carolina.

Saving Jake

Blessings, Georgia

by Sharon Sala

New York Times
and
USA Today
Bestselling Author

There is always
hope

After eight years in the Marines, Jacob Lorde returns to Blessings, Georgia, with no plans other than to hole up in his empty house and heal what's left of his soul. But with a charming next door neighbor and a town full of friendly people, keeping to himself is easier said than done.

as long as you can come
home

Laurel Payne understands far too well what Jake is going through, after witnessing her late husband experience similar problems. She's in no hurry to jump into another relationship with a complicated guy, but their attraction is undeniable—and perhaps exactly what both of them need.

Praise for
I'll Stand By You
:

“An amazing story by a true storyteller.” —
RT Book Reviews

“Sala hooks you from the first page.” —
Fresh Fiction

For more Sharon Sala, visit:

www.sourcebooks.com

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!

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