Spark
Authors: Jennifer Ryder
SPARK
Book One
of the
Spark Series
Jennifer Ryder
SPARK
Copyright © 2014 Jennifer Ryder
Published by Jennifer Ryder
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Jennifer Ryder is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs or musicians or artists mentioned in this book.
Cover Art and Design by Rebecca Berto of
Berto Designs
Editing by
Lauren K McKellar
Formatting by
Max Effect Author Services
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION
For Ben
Because without you, I wouldn’t be able to write such a beautiful hero.
xxx
CHAPTER ONE
They are red. A deep dark red, and there are twelve of them, each one perfect. I reach for the small envelope buried amongst the stems.
Genevieve Lawson
is written in neat, cursive handwriting. I pull out the card inside.
Congratulations on your new place.
- Jon
No one, and I mean no one, has ever bought me flowers, let alone a dozen perfect red roses. Isn’t this the moment when I’m supposed to swoon, and love hearts should float above my head as if I’m in a cartoon? You would think so, but instead, my heart retreats in my chest, and my hand shakes as I put the card down.
Why would my best friend send me flowers? Things between Jon and I are perfect—
just the way they are
. Is that all about to change? The few words on the card may be saying something else. Something I
don’t
want to hear.
Cassie beams at me as she perches on the corner of my desk.
Great.
I turn around to find she’s not the only one staring, but several other sets of eyes are peeking over their computer monitors, too. Blood wastes no time rushing to my face, and if Cassie wasn’t boxing me in, I’d be making a beeline to the nearest source of water to cool down.
“What do we have here?” she asks.
“Flowers,” I say, passing her the card.
“Who’s Jon again?” she asks, like I’ve never mentioned him before. But I guess I don’t blame her for not remembering. Her social life’s a lot more interesting than mine.
“We’re friends from school.”
Cassie tilts her head to the side, her sleek burgundy bob grazing her shoulder. She puts a hand to her hip. “Are you sure he’s just a friend?”
“Yeah,” I scoff.
“Just seems a bit strange for a
friend
to buy flowers. That’s all.”
“Friends can buy each other flowers.”
“Sure they can,” Cassie says, and returns to her desk.
Why did she have to make a big deal of it? He’s a friend, who happens to do nice things for me. Like buy flowers for a housewarming gift. That’s normal right? She’s got no idea what she’s on about. I huff in frustration, and go back to opening the mail. Thursdays are always busy at Andros Commercial Property. The invoices are piled high, and I have to date stamp every single one. A monkey could do this, and probably get more satisfaction. But I shouldn’t complain. I get paid, I pay my rent, but I have my independence.
Finally
.
The office door chimes and a customer walks in, forcing me to focus on something other than what’s going through that boy’s head.
At lunchtime, Cassie and I walk to the café around the corner. I’ve been keen for a chat with her all morning. A group of guys in suits all but halt their conversation as we walk past, all eyes on Cassie.
Like always
. Cassie holds open the door to the café, making way for an elderly lady who is struggling with her bags. Cassie offers to help her to her car, but the lady smiles and politely declines.
Cassie fills me in on her wild weekend of partying. I can’t help but share her infectious grin. She’s always going to this party, or that. Maybe now I can have that. Now I’ve left home I can start living life, instead of imagining it.
Cassie gives me more of the juicy details about the landscape gardener she’d had a fling with recently. Just the thought of him, all lean, sweaty and dirty, will fuel my daydreams for weeks. Not to mention my quiet time alone at night. Pity I live in an apartment. Can’t very well fake the need for a gardener, although I’m sure the fantasy I’ll construct will have nothing to do with plants, or lawn care, and everything to do with what else he could do with his hands … and his mouth … his …
Oh God, my nipples are tingling.
“What’s the plan for the weekend?” Cassie asks, with half a mouthful of food.
I clear my throat, shaking the image of hard work and sexiness. “Not much.” For the first time in forever, my weekend is clear.
“I’ll tell you what’s happening. Friday night, you’re coming out with me. No more brushing me off.”
I open my mouth to speak.
“No excuses,” she barks.
Geez, bossy much?
“We’ll start with a few Stolis at my place, and just see what happens.” Cassie nods her head, confirming that plans have been made.
She’s right. Time to start living my life. “Sounds great,” I say, my smile almost painful as it stretches across my face.
Walking back to the office with her arm linked in mine, there’s a bounce in my step that I’ve missed, and a wriggle in my stomach, like I’ve just competed in some challenge on
Fear Factor
. With Cassie in charge, anything could happen.
I might actually have fun.
****
Finishing up for the day, I do some last minute filing. Quiet voices in the nearby kitchen catch my attention.
“Look after her, Cassandra, and don’t let her drink too much, okay?” Danuta says.
Huh? Why should the office manager care how much I have to drink? What business is that of hers?
“Of course, Danuta. She’ll be fine,” Cassie replies casually. Yeah, I will be. Cassie’s got my back, anyway.
“I mean it. Her mother goes to church with my mother. Eevie’s a good girl,” Danuta says without a trace of humour.
Really? Is that how she sees me? The resident good girl? If she knew half of the dirty things that ran through my head when some of the tradesmen came into the office, believe me, she
wouldn’t
be thinking that.
Picking up my handbag to leave, the flowers catch my eye. They really are beautiful. But I can’t take them home today. If I do, there will be questions, and whatever these flowers mean, I’m not ready to deal with it.
****
I head home to my apartment to find my flatmate, Crystal, unpacking boxes. The living area is a bit bare, with a TV, sofa bed and a coffee table. The apartment might not look like much to anyone else, but to me, this is my space. And it’s about time.
My ever-growing collection of romance novels are piled high in stacks in the corner. As soon as I have enough spare cash, I’ll treat them to a new bookshelf. It’s the least I can do for my babies. They’ve been my escape from reality, and tragically, the only source of romance in my life to date. I have too many book boyfriends to count, and you bet I’ve got my favourites, but it’s not like I can share them with anyone else. Really, how pathetic is that?
“I can’t wait for the new couch to get here. It should be delivered on Saturday,” Crystal says, running her delicate fingers through her long blond hair. She gives me a smile that tells me she’s just as excited as me to be living out of home.
“Yeah, the place is really starting to feel like home,” I reply, and share her heartfelt smile.
After dinner, we mindlessly watch TV, but my thoughts are elsewhere. What the hell am I gonna wear tomorrow? I can’t even remember the last time I went out.
I say goodnight to Crystal, and scout through my wardrobe, looking for something,
anything
that’s nice enough to wear. When I finally decide upon a black top and short black skirt, I lay them over my chair.
I flick on my bedside lamp, take the bookmark out of my latest romantic fix, and snuggle with my boyfriend Brayden.
Mmm, Brayden, where were we
? He kisses her wildly, as he unzips her dress, brushing her skin with the heat of his fingers as he goes.
Oh my
. He kisses her hard and desperate. The man knows how to kiss, and here I am, flustered, and I’m only a paragraph in. This is why he’s my newest book boyfriend. He gets the job done. And besides, who wouldn’t fall for a guy with a name like that?
****
There’s so much work to do that Cassie and I barely get a chance to talk. As the end of the day fast approaches, my excitement builds to the point where I’m squealing on the inside. I can finally act like a regular twenty-year-old girl.
“Have a great weekend everyone,” I say in a high-pitched voice I barely recognise. I might as well have just squealed.
Awkward
.
I walk towards my car, flowers in hand. All twelve of them appear to grow a pair of eyes and stare at me. It’s a stare to the death I won’t win. I’ll deal with them tomorrow. Not now. Tonight, Eevie is going out.
Showering in record time, I smooth out the kinks in my long hair. Thanks to being Cassie’s little makeover project, it’s a rich chocolate colour instead of plain old mousy brown. She also convinced me to do something about my bushy eyebrows, which I’ve been under the shadow of my whole life. When I was young, my relos always told me I looked like Brooke Shields, whoever the hell she is. At least now, having a perfectly groomed set of brows, I don’t freak out when I sleepily look in the mirror and think a pair of angry caterpillars have taken over my face.
As much as I hate wearing contact lenses, I put them in. The less the world sees me in glasses, the better. Really, what guy wants a desperate bookworm?
I put on the top and skirt I’d laid out last night, and rummage through the bottom of my wardrobe, finding a pair of black heels I’d long forgotten about. I dust them off, and slip them on. The heels take a bit of getting used to, as I walk out to the living room. I find Crystal slumped on the couch. I didn’t even hear her come home. She flicks through channels, and glances up at me.
“Wow … you look great, Eevie! Very nice,” she says, sitting up. Her wide smile causes a rush of heat to my face.
“Um, thanks,” I say, looking down at my feet. “I’m off to Cassie’s for drinks, and I’ll probably crash there. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, huh?”
“Well, have fun … Rob will be here soon. We’re just having a quiet night in.”
Quiet.
I don’t know about that
.
I bet she can’t wait for them to have the place to themselves. I know all too well how paper-thin our bedroom walls are. For such a quiet girl, Crystal gets pretty loud when she’s
enjoying
herself.
I’m too embarrassed to say anything to her, because how on earth do you bring that up? “Geez, Rob really gave it to you last night, huh?” Um, no. That’s a conversation we’re never going to have.