When she did, she smiled.
A petite, curvy, very wel -dressed, strikingly beautiful woman with a mass of golden-cream-strawberry blonde hair that was a riot of soft ringlets mixed with ful waves that floated down her back and al around her exquisite face and shoulders was standing behind the counter.
She looked like a fairy princess.
Jane especial y liked her hair. It was fabulous.
Jane suspected Hector Chavez liked her hair too.
But he probably liked her curves better.
“Hel o.” Her soft voice sounded as her pretty eyes smiled.
Mm-hmm.
This was good.
Jane approved.
“Just looking,” Jane muttered, the woman tilted her head welcomingly toward the gal ery then Jane spent the next fifteen minutes pretending to look as she surreptitiously watched the blonde doing whatever she was doing behind her counter.
Then Jane bought three postcards that had prints on the front of art displayed in the gal ery. Postcards she would never use.
Then she left.
* * * * *
Jane waited for her computer to boot up as she turned on dim lighting around the room and lit a scented candle. Cotton flower.
Pretty and soothing.
Then she sat at her desk, moved her mouse and opened her word processing program.
Then she centered the cursor, turned on bold, set the font size at eighteen and typed.
Rock Chick.
Then she hit control at the same time she hit return, starting a new page, changed the font size to fourteen and typed.
Chapter One.
She hit return, turned off bold, turned on italics and changed the font size to twelve and typed.
The Great Liam Chase.
Then her eyes went fuzzy and her memory was swamped with the image of Liam Nightingale embracing his very soon-to-be wife in her angelic wedding dress prior to being declared man and wife.
Then Jane smiled.
Jane was a romantic and she felt the world needed to learn about this love affair.
She felt this because it was beautiful.
They al were.
Then she refocused on her monitor and started typing.