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  SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME

  Manhattan Dinner Club, 3

  Jean C. Joachim

  Contemporary Romance

  Moonlight Books

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  A Moonlight Books Novel

  Sensual Romance

  Shine Your Love on Me

  Copyright © 2014 Jean C. Joachim

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62622-817-7

  First E-book Publication: May 2014

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Edited by Tabitha Bower

  Proofread by Renee Waring

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by Moonlight Books

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Moonlight Books

  Dedication

  For Jack Drucker,

  a special friend whose unflagging support is dear to my heart.

  Acknowledgment

  Thank you for your help and support:

  Marilyn Lee, Tabitha Bower, Renee Waring, Sandy Sullivan, Ariana Gaynor, Larry Joachim, The Tuesday Tales writers, Kathleen Tighe Ball, Elaine Raco Chase, and Homer.

  In Memory of:

  Buster Amante, a pug who shined his love on the world.

  Other books by Jean C. Joachim

  FIRST & TEN SERIES

  GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK

  BUDDY CARRUTHERS, WIDE RECEIVER

  PETE SEBASTIAN, COACH

  DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK

  THE MANHATTAN DINNER CLUB

  RESCUE MY HEART

  SEDUCING HIS HEART

  SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME

  TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE

  HOLLYWOOD HEARTS SERIES

  IF I LOVED YOU

  RED CARPET ROMANCE

  MEMORIES OF LOVE

  MOVIE LOVERS

  LOVE’S LAST CHANCE

  LOVERS & LIARS

  His Leading Lady (Series Starter)

  NOW AND FOREVER SERIES

  NOW AND FOREVER 1, A LOVE STORY

  NOW AND FOREVER 2, THE BOOK OF DANNY

  NOW AND FOREVER 3, BLIND LOVE

  NOW AND FOREVER 4, THE RENOVATED HEART

  NOW AND FOREVER 5, LOVE’S JOURNEY

  NOW AND FOREVER, CALLIE’S STORY(series starter)

  MOONLIGHT SERIES

  SUNNY DAYS, MOONLIT NIGHTS

  APRIL’S KISS IN THE MOONLIGHT

  UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON

  LOST & FOUND DUET (with BEN TANNER)

  LOVE LOST & FOUND

  DANGEROUS LOVE, LOST & FOUND

  SHORT STORY

  SWEET LOVE REMEMBERED

  SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME

  Jean C. Joachim

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Lloyd Simmons, Brooke Felson’s boss and lover, summoned her to his office for a private toast. All smiles, Lloyd closed the door, crossed the room, and took Brooke in his arms for a passionate kiss.

  “We did it. We got the account.” He nuzzled her neck and unbuttoned her blouse. When her lacy white bra was revealed, he wasted no time dipping his hand in and scooping up her breast.

  Brooke freed herself from his grasp to get another drink. Glee bubbled up in her chest, she couldn’t stop smiling. We won the Lady Gray gourmet food account. Biggest account at the agency! And I’m the account supervisor! She took a huge swig from the bottle of champagne on his desk and giggled when the fizz tickled her nose.

  The victory party was still going on in the conference room. Brooke pulled at the knotted scarf around her neck and left it hanging loose. Even with her top open, she fanned herself. Hot in here. Lloyd came up behind her and cupped her breasts again. He kissed her neck this time, slipping the silky fabric off her shoulders.

  Brooke faced him and clasped his arms. “Here? Not here. Wait. Come to my place…” she said, nipping at his earlobe.

  “That tiny hole-in-the-wall? We’re alone here. Let me sit down, and you can—”

  Before he could finish, there was a sharp knock on the door. Brooke jumped, pushing off from his chest and grabbing the ends of her shirt.

  But she was too late. Without waiting for permission, Evelyn Meriwether, Lady Gray herself, swung the door open and stood there, staring. The president of the company frowned, her browed creased. She cocked an eyebrow as she cast her gaze at Lloyd, then Brooke, then back to Lloyd again. “What’s going on? Trying to seduce the boss? That’s a pitiful way to get a raise. Improve your work instead.”

  Lloyd raised his hand to Brooke before she could respond. “What can I do for you, Ms. Meriwether?”

  “First, you can call me Evelyn, since we’ll be working so…closely…together. Second, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you. Can you let your secretary go?”

  Heat that had been traveling slowly up Brooke’s neck burst into her face. “I’m not—”

  Again, Lloyd silenced her. “Brooke is the supervisor on your account.”

  Evelyn made an ugly face. “Bother. I don’t want a girl working on my business.” She shot a cold look at Brooke, who had buttoned up by then.

  “We can make a change. I’m sure we have another account supervisor who would meet with your approval. Brooke can handle other business that would benefit from her expertise.”

  Evelyn raised an eyebrow again. “Expertise? Really? Seems like her expertise can be found on any street corner in Hell’s Kitchen.”

  “How dare—” Brooke’s anger was ready to explode, but Lloyd grabbed her, sliding his hand over her mouth.

  “Come, come, Evelyn. Appearances can be deceiving. Brooke is very capable, mature, and experienced in dealing with clients.”

  Brooke picked up on his pointed references and stuffed her outrage down. She sucked in two deep breaths through her nose and relaxed. Lloyd removed his hand. She picked up her purse, snatched her jacket from the back of his chair, and moved toward the door, leaving without a word.

  Once in the hall, she strode to the elevator, anxious to make her escape before her temper blew. The car seemed to take forever to arrive at the lobby. The tops of her ears were hot and indignation burned in her chest. Don’t think I’ve ever been this angry. When she hit the street, she whipped out her cell, waiting for her hand to stop shaking before she dialed.

  Miranda answered on the first ring. “What’s up?”

  The story poured out of Brooke’s mouth as fast as a runaway train.

  “Slow down, slow down. I can’t under
stand you.”

  “Can you come over?”

  “Sure. Let me leash Romeo and Juliet, and we’re on our way.”

  Anger seeped out of Brooke little by little. Knowing her friend Miranda was coming over helped. The Monday Night Dinner Club women always made her feel better.

  Every Monday, Brooke joined her friends—Bess, Rory, and Miranda—at Bess’s house for dinner. Bess, a baker with her own television cooking show, brought home the leftovers from rehearsal for the women to feast on. All pug owners, they had met originally in Central Park, introduced to each other by their dogs. They had become Brooke’s best friends. She confided in them and trusted their advice.

  Brooke hopped in a cab and headed north to her studio apartment in a brownstone on 74th Street. She opened a bottle of wine, poured two glasses, and peeled off her work clothes—white silk blouse, turquoise linen skirt, and matching jacket. She brushed her long, brown hair and peeked into the mirror.

  Her dark green eyes were bloodshot from too much champagne. So what if I get drunk? It’s Friday. I have tomorrow off. That bitch! And after I worked so hard to win her account. Lloyd better make this good. I don’t want to work for anyone else. She pulled a shift over her head.

  Brooke had been with Gibbon & Walters Advertising for four years. It had been her first job out of grad school. She had worked hard to get promoted. A newly-minted Account Supervisor, she was proud of her accomplishment.

  A sardonic smile curled her lips when she thought about her parents’ reaction. They’d probably say—good, time to leave the corporate prison and get a worthwhile job. They had been killed in a car accident when she was ten. She’d been raised by her maternal grandmother, Ruth Quincy. She called her “Nan,” short for Nana, which Brooke felt too old to call anyone. I’m twenty-eight, not five. No more Nana.

  Brooke’s parents had been counter-culture types, aging hippies, leftover from the 70’s. They had believed in legalizing marijuana, were vegetarians, and recycled everything they could lay their hands on. Her father, Simon Felson, had been a teacher. Her mom, Mary Lou, had been a social worker. Brooke had been their only child because they didn’t believe in contributing to over-population.

  When the police had found pot in the car, they surmised that the drug had caused the accident. The levels in her dad’s blood had confirmed their finding. Since that information had been leaked to Brooke, she had become enraged and ended up hating everything they had stood for.

  She had adored her parents with every fiber of her being. After they were taken away, she had been almost comatose. When she found out it might have been entirely their fault, her sadness had turned to anger. She resented what she called their “irresponsible attitude” and strove to be their opposite—a mature, responsible, corporate success story.

  The buzzer sounded the arrival of Miranda and her pugs, Romeo and Juliet. Brooke handed her friend a glass of Cabernet. The pugs drank from the water bowl Brooke kept filled for guest dogs then curled up on the area rug. The two women got comfy on the sofa.

  After explaining what happened—slower this time—Brooke settled back into the cushions. “It’s not like Lloyd didn’t try…”

  “Did he? Are you sure about him?”

  “What do you mean ‘sure’?”

  “How long have you been dating him?”

  “Six months.”

  “And yet, he doesn’t stick up for you?”

  “It’s a client. You have to do what they want.”

  “Do you? What about love? Devotion? Support?”

  “Lloyd has other strengths.”

  “Like what?” Miranda took a sip.

  “He’s good in bed.” Brooke blushed at her own admission.

  “That’s not enough. Now, what’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know.” Brooke moved her wine glass from hand to hand.

  “You won’t get fired, will you?”

  “Of course not! God. That would be a disaster. No way. Lloyd’d never fire me.”

  “Never say never. No one’s indispensable.”

  Tears filled Brooke’s eyes. “Would he do that to me? After everything we’ve shared?”

  Miranda put her hand on Brooke’s arm. “I didn’t mean to get you upset. But sometimes, life sucks. All I’m saying is it might not be a bad idea for you to think about finding a new job.”

  Brooke bent down and petted Romeo, who was lying at her feet. “You’re probably right.”

  Miranda picked up the television remote. “Let’s see what’s on. Maybe a movie. Do you have any popcorn?”

  “I think so. And I just bought some chocolate yesterday.” The two women found The Holiday. Brooke put the popcorn in the microwave, and Miranda opened the box of chocolates.

  “Chocolate caramels, my favorite!” Miranda took one out.

  “Me, too. God, they’ll cure anything.”

  “It’s not like everything is perfect in my life, Brooke. I don’t want you to be where I am, that’s all.”

  “You look like you’re doing okay.”

  “Some days, maybe. Let’s not get into it. The movie’s coming on,” Miranda said, turning her attention back to the television. Brooke put the popcorn in a bowl, popped open a couple of Cokes, and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

  * * * *

  Despite the cool, April air, Preston Carpenter unzipped his black leather jacket. Running in Central Park with three pugs had heated him up. The sun shone down on the daffodils and tulips, making their yellows, reds, purples, and pinks blaze. Pres parked his butt on a bench and doled out treats to the waiting dogs.

  Two of them, Fred and Ginger, belonged to Ruth Quincy. Pres walked the pair every Sunday morning and often during the week when he took his own pug, Buddy. The three played well together. Pres enjoyed laughing at their antics. Ruth tried to pay him, but he protested. He didn’t tell her that being near her granddaughter, Brooke, was payment enough.

  That Pres had developed a huge crush on Brooke never ceased to embarrass him. She visited Ruth every Sunday for brunch. Pres timed his pick-up and delivery of Freddy and Ginger to coincide with Brooke’s visits, hoping to talk to her, maybe ask her out. But when he did see her, he got tongue-tied, and she brushed him off as the help, the dog walker, and nothing more.

  Her presence reduced him to a lovesick thirteen-year-old, tripping over his own feet to open the door for the woman of his dreams. He was frustrated. I’m thirty, experienced with women. Why does she affect me this way?

  He checked his watch. Only ten. She never arrives before eleven.

  “Okay, guys. We’ve got to kill another forty minutes.” He pushed to his feet and led the dogs to a field adjacent to the Great Lawn. He threw a Cuz ball, and they ran around like crazy, chasing the oddly bouncing toy. After half an hour, they stretched out on the grass, panting, to cool off.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. Playtime’s over.” Pres took hold of the leashes and led the pooches out of the park. They arrived at Ruth’s building, The Huntington, a posh high-rise on Central Park West. Rocky, the doorman, greeted Pres and petted the animals. They got off the elevator on the twentieth floor. Ruth opened the door as Pres unhooked the pugs, who ran immediately for the water bowls in the kitchen.

  “Would you like some coffee?” The slim, attractive woman with stylish, short white hair smiled at him. Dressed in khaki slacks, she wore a grass-green T-shirt that brought out the green in her eyes—the same shade as her granddaughter’s.

  He narrowed his eyes. “What’s up?”

  “She’s not here yet. So I thought…”

  “I see. You know, don’t you?” He sensed color gathering in his cheeks.

  “Of course. Why do you think I hired you to walk the dogs? You’re perfect for her.”

  “You know that, and I know that, but somebody forgot to tell her.”

  “Come.” Ruth took his arm and escorted him to her dining table. It was laid out for a glamorous brunch with Limoges china and sterling silver flatware. A silve
r tea service was filled and waiting. She showed him to a chair then poured two cups of coffee.

  “Scone?” she asked, offering him a plate piled high.

  “Breaking bread with the help? What’ll Brooke say?” He took one and broke off a piece.

  “She is a bit of a snob, isn’t she?”

  He raised his eyebrows in response and continued to chew.

  “Her mother wasn’t like that at all. Brooke needs to grow up. Stop this silliness and get back to her roots.” Ruth shook her head then lightened her beverage with real cream.

  “What was her mother like?”

  “Mary Lou was sweet. Gentle. A social worker with the softest heart. She’d cry at the drop of a hat. Or laugh. She loved calico cotton dresses, country and folk music, cooking and sewing. And Brooke. She took after me.” Ruth’s pride was unmistakable.

  “What happened with Brooke?”

  “She was ten when they died. It destroyed her. She idolized her mother and father. They were a close family. It was a fever that kept her from being in the car that day. I thank God for that.” Ruth’s voice shook. She turned her gaze from the window and stared into her cup.

  The sound of a key in the lock interrupted their private conversation. Brooke entered, wearing a pink, calico, short-sleeved dress and a beige leather jacket. Her brow was furrowed, and she appeared distracted.

  She’s beautiful. Pres’s stare traveled slowly from her glossy, dark brown hair down to her pink flats. His groin tightened slightly, and his mouth went dry.