Heartbreaker Read online

  Table of Contents

  Heartbreaker

  Copyright

  Dedication

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Chapter One

  Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press, Inc. publication.

  Heartbreaker

  by

  Monica Robinson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Heartbreaker

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Monica Robinson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Angela Anderson

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, February 2013

  Print ISBN 978-1-61217-831-8

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-832-5

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For my husband Westley,

  who never fails to answer my questions…

  even if they make sense only to me.

  I love you, sweetheart.

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Monica Robinson

  AND HER BOOKS

  TWELVE DAYS OF BLISS

  “Ms. Robinson has a way with telling a story that grabs you immediately and entertains her readers the entire time they’re reading.”

  ~Night Owl Reviews

  “Ms. Robinson has outdone herself with this amazing holiday story.”

  ~Coffee Time Romance & More

  ALEX

  “Get ready to experience some down home Texas hospitality with some rough and ready Texas cowboys who’s stories will keep the pages turning.”

  ~Long & Short Reviews

  “Monica Robinson has a hit with this book.”

  ~Night Owl Reviews

  Chapter One

  “Good morning San Diego County! You’re listening to Merlin in the morning on the station that gets you up and out of bed. KORK, the king of rock!”

  Charity Kendrick pulled the pillow over her head with a groan. Not even the ultra-sexy voice of her favorite DJ was enough to force her to get out of bed this morning. All she wanted was to hide beneath the covers and forget August 14th ever happened. Not only did she have a nine o’clock meeting with the editor-in-chief of the San Rico Tribune, but today also marked the three-month anniversary of the day she and her boyfriend, Nick Cooper, began dating.

  Which means we’re doomed. It never seemed to fail. Whenever her relationships—all three of them to be exact—hit the three-month mark either she or the man called it quits. Even more depressing—none of them had been able to give her an orgasm. This wasn’t to say the sex had been bad, far from it actually. There was just something missing, that spark to push her over the edge into mind-numbing ecstasy. To his credit, Nick had come the closest. Unfortunately, when she was ready to cross over the precipice, he would finish and promptly go to sleep.

  “For our listeners just tuning in, my guest today is family psychiatrist, Dr. Joseph Kendrick, and our topic is l-o-v-e. Valentine’s Day may be six months away, but it can’t hurt to find out now if your sweetie is really meant to be your sweetie,” Merlin crooned.

  Charity flung the pillow away and gaped at the alarm clock. No friggin’ way. There was no way her relationship-phobic brother was on KORK giving advice about love. Joe was the most logical, if not slightly neurotic, person she knew and making a guest appearance of this nature—especially when he had no room to talk—was anything but logical.

  “Earlier, you said relationships, in general, have taken a nosedive over the last several decades. Why is that? Is it because we’re all too busy these days or what?”

  “It’s funny you should word it that way,” Joe replied. “The most common excuse I hear from patients is that they don’t have time to devote to a relationship. In my opinion, the number one reason for failed relationships is one or both parties are afraid to commit. In many cases, the fear is on a subconscious level. For all outward appearances, the person who has these feelings is the one who wants the relationship most.”

  As much as Charity hated to admit it, her brother’s theory made sense. Maybe that was why none of her relationships lasted longer than a few months. Perhaps the men she chose were commitmentphobes. If nothing else, it was an interesting angle to consider.

  “That’s deep, Doc,” Merlin remarked. “We’ve got a caller on the line. What’s your name and where are you calling from?”

  “Jason from San Rico.”

  The air froze in Charity’s lungs. She knew that voice. She heard it almost every night, murmuring her name or wishing her sweet dreams. His name wasn’t Jason, though. Why would Nick call in for love advice from her brother? It was just creepy.

  Three-month mark.

  “All right, we have Jason from sunny San Rico. So, tell us. Do you want to find out if your sweetie is the real deal or are you on a one-way trip to splitsville?”

  “Yeah,” the caller replied with a nervous laugh. “Something like that.”

  It was her Nick. Great. I knew this would happen. Three months is my limit. Would Joe recognize Nick’s voice as well? If he did, then he would be obligated to have Merlin pull the plug on the call.

  What if he doesn’t recognize Nick’s voice? With her brother’s practice being in San Diego, his busy schedule rarely allowed them to get together for dinner much less a chance to know the man she was dating.

  “What’s on your mind today?”

  “Well,” Nick started. “My girlfriend and I have been seeing each other for a couple of months. She’s smart, funny, and an absolute knockout. But she has some serious insecurity issues that I believe are holding us back.”

  “Insecurity issues!” Charity kicked at the sheets and jerked furiously out of the bed, but didn’t get more than a few steps before the linens tangled around her ankles and tripped her. Teetering, her arms wind milled a split-second before she fell to her rear with a painful thud. “Ow. I’ll show you insecurity issues…just as soon as I pick myself up off the floor.”

  “Knockout, huh? If things don’t work out, I could always give her my number,” Merlin mused. “What kind of insecurity issues are we talking about, dude? Did she put on five pounds and suddenly thinks she’s fat?”

  Charity glared at the radio on her nightstand. Nick wouldn’t dare. He wouldn’t stoop so low as to broadcast to the entire county that, until four years ago, she’d been obese. It was no one’s business but hers, and she sure as hell didn’t want over a million people knowing about her personal life.

  “Just the opposite
, but that’s not what bugs me. To be honest, it’s our sex life. Something isn’t adding up in the bedroom.”

  Oh. My. God. This wasn’t happening. Somehow, this was all one horrific nightmare and, at any moment, her alarm would go off and she would finally start her day. She would forget this mortifying experience and concentrate on her upcoming meeting with Tom Richards.

  “What do you mean? Are you saying you can’t arouse her?” Joe asked.

  Charity cringed. Oh, this was wrong on so many levels. If her brother knew she was the topic of discussion, he wouldn’t be asking these questions. That’s it! She’ll call KORK and have the station pull the plug. Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner?

  Pushing herself to her hands and knees, she grabbed the cordless phone right as it rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Cherry! Oh my God, Cherry, turn your radio to KORK,” Emily Prescott gasped.

  Charity pinched the bridge of her nose at her best friend’s panic-stricken tone. “I know, Em. I’m going to try to get them to pull the plug.”

  “Laney’s been trying to call ever since she heard Nick’s voice. The line is constantly busy. I can’t believe he’s telling your brother this stuff.”

  You and me both. Her embarrassment turned to outrage as she wondered what could have possessed Nick to do this. It wasn’t her fault he lacked the ability to rock her world. In fact, she never once complained. Well, not so he could hear anyway. She’d told Emily of course and their co-worker and friend, Laney Adams, but that was it.

  “No,” Nick said. “I can arouse her fine. Lately, I get the impression she’s faking it. In the beginning, everything was perfect. Now it seems like she’s just stroking my ego. I’ve never been with a woman I couldn’t please easily. I take a lot of pride in that department, if you know what I mean.”

  “There’s not a man alive who doesn’t,” Merlin piped in with a chuckle. “So, what do you think, Doc?”

  “It could be a number of things,” Joe said slowly. “Stress could be the culprit. Women under stress can be aroused, but may not achieve orgasm or it could take longer. Keep in mind—women tend to be emotion-oriented. If your girlfriend is ‘faking it,’ I would wager she is doing it to spare your feelings. It’s not an uncommon thing.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Emily huffed in her ear.

  “Em, please.”

  “Sorry. Laney just texted me. She can’t get through to KORK and needs to get to the office. Hang tight, Cherry Berry. We’ll get this taken care of.”

  “What am I going to do? If anyone figures out it’s Nick on the line, I’m going to be a laughing stock at work. My ex-boyfriend just dissed me on the most popular radio station in Southern California.” She pulled herself to her feet and rubbed her butt.

  “I don’t want her to ‘spare my feelings’,” Nick continued. “I want to make Cherry scream my name like she used to.”

  Charity sank onto the edge of the bed and sighed. Perfect. If her co-workers hadn’t figured out that today’s “Ask the Expert” was about her, they certainly knew now.

  “What did you say?” Joe demanded in a choked voice.

  Nick groaned.

  “What’s up, Doc?” Merlin chuckled at his own joke. “Does this have significant meaning?”

  “Yeah,” Joe replied in a dark tone. “It means it’s time to end this call.”

  “Okay, we’ll be back after a word from our sponsors. Up next, Dr. Kendrick will take more of your calls, so don’t go anywhere!”

  Charity turned off the radio and raked a free hand through her hair. Could her day possibly get any worse?

  ****

  To Charity’s surprise—and eternal relief—no one so much as snickered when she walked into the office an hour and a half later. Several of her female co-workers stopped to offer their outrage at Nick’s audacity, while the men avoided her altogether.

  Just as well, she supposed. It was probably best to avoid her male co-workers for a day or so until this morning’s “Ask the Expert” fiasco had a chance to die away. It would save her the trouble of trying to hold a conversation and wonder what mental image they were conjuring up.

  “Ready to go see what Tom wants?” Emily inquired.

  Save one exception. She still had her nine o’clock meeting to attend, but she doubted the senior editor listened to KORK. With a disposition that bordered on boorish, Tom didn’t strike her as the type who enjoyed rock music.

  Sitting back in the creaky rolling chair, she rubbed her forehead with her fingertips before offering Emily a small smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Think it’ll be good news?”

  Wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe this time she would receive a real assignment instead of some cutesy fluff piece. After working for the Tribune for almost five years, didn’t she deserve a break?

  Emily pushed a lock of chocolate-colored hair behind her ear before glancing around at the other cubicles and leaning forward in a confidential manner. “I don’t know all of the details, but I overheard Tom telling Paul he wants someone to do an undercover story. Maybe that’s what today’s meeting is about.”

  Charity rose, a laugh bubbling in her throat. Field reporters did undercover work, not editorial journalists. The only “undercover” work she’d ever conducted consisted of eating at a few quirky restaurants and reporting on the experience.

  “I’m not going to hold my breath on that one.” She patted Emily’s shoulder and slid past her. “We’ll go to Quincy’s for lunch, and I’ll tell you about it. Okay?”

  It wasn’t okay of course, but the offer was enough to pacify Emily long enough for Charity to make her way to Tom’s corner office. She kept her eyes straight ahead, trying to ignore her pounding heart and sweaty palms.

  What if, by some miracle, Emily was right and Tom wanted to give her an undercover assignment? Was she ready for that sort of pressure? Sure, she wanted a change from the editorial section, but this would be a major leap. Then again, wasn’t this why she’d studied journalism in the first place?

  Get a grip. There was no way of knowing what Tom wanted until she went into his office. For all she knew, he wanted her to cover the newest addition to the penguin exhibit at the aquarium.

  “It would be my luck, too.” She lifted her hand to knock on the frosted glass insert in the door.

  “What was that, Charity?”

  Stifling a gasp, Charity whirled around to find Tom standing behind her, a quizzical expression creasing his handsome face. She pressed her lips together in a tight smile.

  “My truck.” She pointed to the windows across from her. “It’s new. I was thinking aloud about how safe it is in the parking lot. I don’t want to get any scratches on it or anything.”

  Her truck? That was the best she could come up with? She didn’t even own a truck. She drove the beat-up compact her brother owned while in college.

  Tom nodded and reached past her to open the door. “Ah. I see. Well, come in and have a seat. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

  He entered the office first and, once his back was turned, Charity’s eyelids fluttered shut. Images of her tossing fish to flapping penguins sprang to mind and she suppressed a groan. No. She wouldn’t think like that. If Tom offered her another cutesy story, she would refuse. She would demand to be taken seriously. She would—

  “I don’t do penguins.”

  Tom halted in mid-step and turned to face her. “Excuse me?”

  Oh God. Please, oh please, say she didn’t just blurt out that she didn’t “do penguins.” She lifted her eyes to meet Tom’s surprised—if not perplexed—stare.

  Yup, she’d said it.

  The only thing she could do now was stand her ground and hope she didn’t find herself in the unemployment line.

  “What I mean to say is that I’m tired of writing light and fluffy stories. I didn’t study journalism to do this my entire career. Some people are fine with it, but not me. I’ve been with the Tribune for five years and I believe it’s
time I was given a real news story.”

  There. She’d said it. Granted, her heart was pounding in her ears and her stomach was twisting into painful knots, but she’d managed to tell him what she felt without chickening out.

  She watched his facial features carefully, noting each wrinkle in his forehead and the tiny lines deepening around his icy blue eyes. He leaned against the edge of the paper-strewn desk and crossed one foot over the opposite ankle. A slow grin curled the corners of his lips.

  “You know,” he said at last. “You’re right. I was going to ask Laney if she wanted this assignment but, given what you said, I think you’d be a better choice. I need someone to go undercover to investigate Fantasy Cruises.”

  Charity blinked. She didn’t know much about the cruise line other than what the rumor mill had to say. She knew they offered romantic cruises for singles and couples who wanted to spice up their love lives but, other than that, the line between truth and rumor blurred into a fuzzy gray.

  “As in, you want me to go on one of their cruises?”

  Tom folded his arms over his chest and nodded.

  “To investigate what precisely?”

  “The brochure says it’s a cruise meant to experience new love or rekindle the passion of an existing relationship. From the stories I’ve heard from ‘satisfied customers,’ the Hedonna, Fantasy Cruise’s number one liner, seems to be a floating orgy. Your job is to find out what’s really going on,” he replied and sucked air through his teeth. “But…I need an answer now. The Hedonna sets sail at six this evening, so you would be leaving tonight.”

  This was really happening. She was finally getting her chance at a real story. It was still an editorial, but at least it was a step in the right direction. There was just one small problem.