An Accidental Kiss (Dearly Beloved) Read Free Page B

he’d first decided he wanted to become a writer.
    “As far back as I can remember,” he replied. “When I was a kid, reading by flashlight under the blankets long after I should have been asleep, I couldn’t think of anything more wonderful than being able to create a world all my own, with people I dreamed up all by myself.”
    Justine’s poised her pen over her notebook. “You began writing when you were a boy?”
    “Nope, didn’t think people like me actually wrote books,” Frank said, spooning chili into three bowls and coming to the table. “I joined the Army.”
    “Hmm,” Justine murmured, scribbling hard.
    Marcy tried not to stare at the man sitting across from her at the wooden table, but couldn’t help herself. His dark hair was shot through with gray, his features craggy, his eyes a fierce and piercing blue. He could almost have been one of the cowboys he liked to write about. Just then, Frank looked up and caught her staring. She flushed and turned back to her chili.
    “How did you feel when Texas Drifter was made into a movie?” Justine asked.
    Frank chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of food.
    “It must have been so exciting!” Justine said.
    He smiled slightly. “It was.”
    “Okay. What are your hobbies apart from writing?”
    “The usual—walking my dog, a little cooking.”
    “Did you bake that?” Justine asked, eyeballing the chocolate cake on the counter.
    “No, I don’t bake cakes,” he said. “Like to eat them though.”
    “Mom bakes,” Justine said. “She won first prize in the county fair last year for her German chocolate cake.”
    As if to confirm, Frank glanced at Marcy who shrugged modestly.
    “What if she baked one for you?” Justine asked.
    “I wouldn’t say no.”
    The sun came out and Justine wondered out into the yard to play with Doc while Marcy helped Frank load the dishwasher.
    “She’s nice kid,” he said gruffly.
    “Thanks.” Marcy smiled. “It was really nice of you to agree to this.”
    “I like kids,” he said.
    “Do you have any of your own?”
    He went still for a moment, and she wondered if she’d overstepped some boundary. Then he shook his head. “My wife couldn’t have children. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”
    “For a writer, you’re a man of very few words,” Marcy observed.
    He turned to her with a smile, and the moment became intimate, charged with electricity. He took a step toward her. “Marcy—”
    The moment dissolved when the back yard door opened and Doc came loping in, followed by Justine. “Where’s his water bowl?” she asked. “I made him thirsty, didn’t I, boy?”
    Frank filled Doc’s water bowl. They each enjoyed a slice of chocolate cake while Justine asked a few more questions. Marcy stroked an appreciative Doc. This felt so good, she thought. The three of them hardly knew each other and yet the atmosphere between them was so light and easy, almost as if they belonged together. Don’t, she warned herself, don’t get carried away . But every time Frank looked in her direction Marcy felt herself fill up with a heady mixture of lust and affection.
    “I like him,” Justine said, going over her notes as they drove home.
    “So do I,” Marcy admitted quietly.
    Justine looked over at her. “So, are you going to bake him a cake?”
    Marcy smiled. “I think I just might.”
    ****
    A week later, Frank hung up the phone and wondered why he didn’t feel more elated. He’d just received the news he’d been waiting months to hear.
    “It’s finished,” he said quietly to Doc, who dozed lazily at his feet. “The house is finally finished.”
    As much as he’d loved Katie, his wife had been very much a city girl, which was why they’d always lived here in Denver, close to the restaurants, museums and the hustle and bustle she’d thrived on. When he’d started to make a success of his writing, Katie had argued that it was much more convenient for them to live in town. After she’d died, he