Be My Valentine by Debbie Macomber Page B

Michael isn’t.”
    In the past few months, Bailey had been learning about classic romance heroes. They were supposed to be proud, passionate and impetuous. Strong, forceful men who were capable of tenderness. Men of excellent taste and impeccable style. That these qualities were too good to be true was something Bailey knew for a fact. A hero was supposed to have a burning need to find the one woman who would make his life complete. That sounded just fine on paper, but Bailey knew darn well what men were really like.
    She heaved an exasperated sigh and shook her head. “You’d think I’d know all this by now.”
    â€œDon’t be so hard on yourself. You haven’t been at this as long as I have. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I have all the answers, either,” Jo Ann warned. “You’ll notice I haven’t sold yet.”
    â€œBut you will.” Bailey was convinced of that. Jo Ann’s historical romance was beautifully written. Twice her friend had been a finalist in a national writing competition, and everyone, including Bailey, strongly believed it was only a matter of time before a publishing company bought Fire Dream.
    â€œI agree with everything you’re saying,” Bailey added. “I just don’t know if I can do it. I put my heart and soul into this book. I can’t do any better.”
    â€œOf course you can,” Jo Ann insisted.
    Bailey knew she’d feel differently in a few hours, when she’d had a chance to muster her resolve; by tonight she’d be revising her manuscript with renewed enthusiasm. But for now, she needed to sit back and recover her confidence. She was lucky, though, because she had Jo Ann, who’d taken the time to read Forever Yours and give much-needed suggestions.
    Yet Bailey couldn’t help thinking that if she had a model for Michael, her job would be much easier. Jo Ann used her husband, Dan. Half their writers’ group was in love with him, and no one had even met the man.
    Reading Jo Ann’s words at the end of the first chapter, Bailey found herself agreeing once more. “Michael should be determined, cool and detached. A man of substance.”
    Her friend made it sound so easy. Again Bailey reflected on how disadvantaged she was. In all her life, she hadn’t dated a single hero, only those who thought they were but then quickly proved otherwise.
    Bailey was mulling over her dilemma when she noticed him. He was tall and impeccably dressed in a gray pin-striped suit. She wasn’t an expert on men’s clothing, but she knew quality when she saw it.
    The stranger carried himself with an air of cool detachment. That was good. Excellent, in fact. Exactly what Jo Ann had written in the margin of Forever Yours.
    Now that she was studying him, she realized he looked vaguely familiar, but she didn’t know why. Then she got it. This was “a man of substance.” The very person she was looking for…
    Here she was, bemoaning her sorry fate, when lo and behold a handsome stranger strolled into her life. Not just any stranger. This man was Michael incarnate. The embodiment of everything she’d come to expect of a romantic hero. Only this version was living and breathing, and standing a few feet away.
    For several minutes, Bailey couldn’t keep her eyes off him. The subway cars were crowded to capacity in the early-morning rush, and while other people looked bored and uncomfortable, her hero couldn’t have been more relaxed. He stood several spaces ahead of her, holding the overhead rail and reading the morning edition of the paper. His raincoat was folded over his arm and, unlike some of the passengers, he seemed undisturbed by the train’s movement as it sped along.
    The fact that he was engaged in reading gave Bailey the opportunity to analyze him without being detected. His age was difficult to judge, but she guessed him to be in his mid-thirties. Perfect!