Strangers meet on the train. She, a beautiful, wealthy businesswoman. He, a down on his luck office manager. They have nothing in common. And yet, they are drawn to each other with an undeniable hypnotic magnetism. This is the story of Rebecca Robbins, daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country and Mark Ramsay, a man shrouded in dark mystery and hiding in the shadows from death squads amid international intrigue.
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https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B009Y9DPIC
Table of Contents
Chapters
1. Probably A Shoe Salesman
2. The Greater of the Two Evils
3. Destiny at the Diner
4. Deadly Ambush
5. Fusco, Minion of Satan
6. Saving the Comstock
7. A Cover Blown, A New Identity
8. A Reunion Leads to Danger
9. Kidnapped
10. Rescuing Becca
11. Jonathan Claims His Reward
12. Peril in the Afternoon
Everything changes. Only love remains the same.
EXCERPT:
Chapter Three – Destiny at the Diner
At lunchtime, Becca decided she needed some air and just wanted to get out of the office. The sun was shining. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue. The air was crisp and clean after a morning rain. She walked down the street, passed the new Italian restaurant. She was drawn into Sullivan’s diner. She hadn’t been in the diner in years. She and her father used to come here for lunch when she first starting working at Bentley Square. The diner was busy.
“Rebecca, is that you? How are you? Good to see you."
“Hello, Mr. Sullivan. It’s good to see you, too. I’m fine. And you?”
“Good, good.”
“And sweet Mrs. Sullivan?”
“She’s good. She’s making peach pies today. I don’t see you down this way any more.”
“The Boss doesn’t let me out too often, but we DO order take-out."
“Yes, I know. The Boss likes my Reuben sandwich. Tell him I said hi, honey.”
“I will.”
She sat in a small booth by the window and ordered a turkey sandwich and a black coffee. Across the street in one of the old, falling apart buildings was an agency she never heard of. It looked dark and gloomy, a sad place to work. Bad vibrations.
“Excuse me,” she tapped the man behind her in the next booth on the shoulder, “How long has that agency been there? I’ve worked downtown for years now, and I’ve never heard of it. It seems a little depressing. What is it, Fusco’s?"
He turned around. It was HIM, her ‘Richard’!
“Ah, I, well, hello there!” He felt an odd mix of shock, fate, and sheer delight. He felt she was close, but certainly not THIS close! “Fusco’s? It’s an advertising agency. Its small, unassuming. It’s been there a very long time, twenty-five years. Depressing? Oh, yes, you could say that. I work there. I’ve been there… for five years now. I’m… I’m the office manager. Ah… I’m Mark, Mark Ramsey. I’m, ah, so pleased to finally get to meet you… after all the times I’ve… ah, seen you at the station and… wanted to…” He extended his hand. Oh, God, he was acting like a complete idiot, he thought to himself. Just shut the hell up, he advised himself.
Becca was elated. He was so warm. He was very familiar to her, she knew him. So, her Richard’s name was Mark. He didn’t strike her as a Mark. But Mark was a nice name, a good name. Mark. She shook his hand. No, not shook, more like caressed it. Tingle. She held on to it. Oh, great hand, nice, well-proportioned, big, nice strong grip. She didn’t want to let go. And a very nice lower lip! That wonderful voice, it spoke to her without words. That was the voice she heard, calling to her, talking to her, saying things like “I’m here,” and “Find me,” and “Hello, Sweetheart.” She thought the sound of it was absolutely mesmerizing. She wanted to hear more of it.
“Hello, Mark,” she smiled at him. “I’m Becca. Would you care to join me?”
He couldn’t believe his good luck! He brought his coffee over and sat across from her. He thought she was even more beautiful up close. And she had such a lovely voice, not high-pitched or gooey, but pleasant, calm, silken, and so soothing.
“I looked for you at the station this morning, Mark, but I didn’t see you.”
Wow! She looked for him, and she admitted it, he thought. He looked at her left hand. No wedding ring. No engagement ring. For a day that started so badly for him, it just kept getting better and better. Early this morning Mr. Fusco threatened to fire him for his lackluster performance and poor leadership qualities. He called him pitiful and worthless. And everybody heard.
“I had an early meeting with my boss to discuss my semi-annual job performance evaluation today. I would have much rather been at the station looking at you looking for me. You work near here, too?”
“Yes, at Bentley Square,” she giggled.
“That damn mighty bastard of Bentley Square, Carlton Robbins, just bought my apartment building and is going to tear it down. In less than three weeks. I just can’t believe he’s giving us less than three weeks notice before he throws us all out on the street to fight for the few remaining city apartments, slum spots actually.”
“You live at the Comstock?”
“Yes”
“Oh, Mark! I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said softly, apologetically. “Here I am ranting on and on about the Comstock, when I’m sitting here with such a beautiful woman. One I’ve been hoping to meet… no, no, longing to meet for a very long time now! What on earth is the matter with me?” he said, looking down, shaking his head.
“Not a thing,” she smiled, flirting with him. He looked up and blushed. Stay still, don’t reach for her, don’t scare her off, he said to himself, and WHATEVER the hell you do, don’t you leap across this table and kiss her! Breathe. Go slow.
“I love the Comstock,” she said. “It’s a wonderful old building, a historic treasure in fact, and I think it should be saved.”
“You do? Really? I do, too.” He leaned in a little closer. He was amazed and delighted that they shared a common cause.
He had wonderful eyes, dark, very expressive. One could get lost in them.
“Yes! I just love the old moldings and the fretwork, the ornate little keyholes and the mailboxes. And the outside is a perfect example of Gothic architecture, the last in the city. It should be saved.”
“Yes. I agree! It’s a great old building. I really like it there,” he said.
She smiled. Oh, that warm, sweet smile, he thought. He was fighting the urge to hug her, wrap her arms around and hold her tight. Oh, don’t blow this, he said to himself. Don’t frighten her away. Don’t send her screaming for the door.
“And do you have any ideas on how we could do that?” he said calmly.
“Well, yes, actually, I do. You can check to see if it can be registered as a historical building. I know it’s over a hundred years old. And I remember reading about an Ohio president staying there when it was the Comstock Hotel, but it may have been Warren G. Harding, but I’m not sure. But if you can get it registered, they can’t tear it down. I think there’s a very real possibility it could be a historical landmark. And, if it’s accepted, they’ll send you a little plaque to hang outside. It’ll be in the National Historical Landmark Registry then. And it’ll be safe. They’ll need the date building began and the date it opened. Other than that, they insist on doing all their own research, so you don’t have to send anything else. And here’s the phone number,” taking it out of her handbag. She also wrote down what he needed. It was on her to-do list for today, but he could do it.
She handed him the paper. He took it and looked at it. He recognized that beautiful handwriting, from a note to him signed, ‘Love, Nic,’ but from where? Nic… Nicole. He clutched it to him. He would keep it, even after he made the phone call. He would fold it up into a tiny square and keep it with him in his wallet.
“Becca, you are wonderful! So wonderful! Thank you. I have to go now, oh, I hate to leave you, after waiting SO very long to finally get a chance to meet you, but my boss, Mr. Fusco, watches the clock and I’m already late. And he’s not happy with me at all today.”
“I hate to see you go so soon, too. But I understand, Mark.”
“Would you think about… maybe, meeting me here tomorrow? Eleven thirty? Then we could have… a whole half-hour together. I’m sorry but that’s all I get for lunch.”
“Okay.” She nodded and smiled at him. She wanted to crawl across the table and lick that lower lip.
“Great! See you tomorrow. Here. 11:30.” And off he ran across the street. He turned and shyly waved to her with that faint sweet smile as he went into the office.
She waved back and watched him until he disappeared into the darkness. She went back to her coffee and sandwich.
Goodbye, Sweetheart. See you tomorrow.
She looked up, but couldn’t see him. How does she DO that, he thought.
She finished her lunch and walked back to Bentley Square with a spring in her step, feeling ignited from inside, happy. The sky was so beautiful today; that perfect shade of periwinkle blue, and not a cloud in the sky. The city skyline was glistening in the sun. She found him. She finally found him. And he was incredible. It was a great day!
“What happened to you?” asked Gracie.
“What do you mean?” asked Becca.
“SOMETHING happened to you in the last half hour! You look like you just came back from two weeks in Florida, all calm and relaxed and… something else I can’t quite put my finger on. Oh, my God, Becca, did you drink your lunch today? We have this giant meeting with Wagner & Charles at one o’clock and I don’t think I can handle it without you.”
“Calm down, Gracie. I had a turkey sandwich and a cup of black coffee. I am not drunk. I am just very happy. Is it so unusual for me to be happy?”
“No, no. You’re always pleasant, and happy, yes. But THIS? This is different.”
She turned and smiled at Gracie.
“Fantasy Lover...I met him at Sully’s. Oh, Grace, he’s wonderful.”
“Well, if the man can do THAT in a half an hour in broad daylight in a public place while you’re eating a turkey sandwich, then he is… wonderful. Can I run a background check on him? Just to make sure he is of this earth. Name, date of birth, oh, a fingerprint or a hair would be great!”
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