THREE TIMES THE CHARM
Romance on the
Go TM
Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
Wearing
stiletto heels empowered Carisa. The increased
height gave her confidence, because she didn’t feel short any longer. For her date, she’d chosen her brightest,
sexiest garment––a scarlet mini-dress. The hemline halted at her upper thighs and the fabric clung to her
figure. Red favored her coloring, too, making
her otherwise drab brown hair shimmer with auburn highlights and her light
brown eyes appear larger. At Daphne’s
insistence, Carisa wore her hair down, the waist-length tresses cascading in a
wild series of curls that proved far more flattering than the bun she usually
skewered on top of her head. She put on
more make-up than her normal foundation and a touch of lip-gloss too, all because Daphne swore Alex Milton would be worth the
effort.
“I
look like someone else,” Carisa complained as she leaned closer to the vanity mirror to study her appearance.
“You
look amazing,” Daphne told her.
Carisa
sighed. No matter how lovely she might
look––and she had her doubts––she expected this date would tank, just like all
the others. Getting asked out wasn’t a
problem. Surviving a date without managing to bore, offend, or anger a man had
proved tricky. She loathed sports with
a passion, so she couldn’t talk teams or scores. Lifelong allergies prevented her from contact
with anything with fur, so dog lovers and fans of felines were out. Her lactose intolerance made dining out
difficult. More than once she’d ordered
something seemingly innocuous, which actually included dairy. Stomach cramps strong enough to make her
double over tended to put a damper on a date.
Although
warned never to talk religion or politics, some men brought up the topics and
when she expressed her honest opinion, the guys responded with harsh arguments
or called her an idiot––or something worse. Carisa’s musical tastes ran to ragtime and big band music, vintage stuff,
so she couldn’t speak with any authority about rap or rock or even current
country. She didn’t watch much
television and her movie preferences leaned toward classics, especially black
and white films. Nor did Carisa hunt,
fish, or hike. She loved to read, but
most men she met never opened a book.
Her
unique tastes left just a few conversation topics: boring things like weather,
books, and gardening. So far, she’d
never met a man interested in any of those. Besides, at just twenty-five years old Carisa often felt as jaded as a
Victorian spinster. Sometimes she
wondered if such a thing as love really existed outside of novels, movies, or
songs. Her parents split when she was no
more than a toddler, and she knew more divorced people than happily married
couples.
With
a sigh, she dismissed her heavy thoughts. Carisa spritzed a little more hair
spray onto her curls just as the doorbell rang and she jumped.
“That
must be him.”
Daphne
laughed. “I imagine it is. Chill out, honey. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. You’re going to like Alex just fine.”
Maybe , Carisa thought, but will he like me ?
Chest
tight, heart pounding, she rushed to open the door. The casual greeting she’d prepared vanished,
as Carisa stared up at six and a half feet of
masculine perfection. Alex Milton wasn’t
just good looking––the man was gorgeous. Sun-streaked light brown hair framed his face, as rugged as John Wayne’s
but far more attractive. Green eyes flared
with life as he looked at Carisa . His slender lips formed a smile.
“Hey,”
he said in a delicious voice, deep and a little husky. “I’m Alex Milton.”
She
grinned back. “And I’m Carisa Russo. Come in, please. I’m almost ready.”
Daphne
materialized and waved. “Hi, Alex.”
“Hello.”
“Good
to see you in my home environment, boss man,”
Romance on the
Go TM
Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
Wearing
stiletto heels empowered Carisa. The increased
height gave her confidence, because she didn’t feel short any longer. For her date, she’d chosen her brightest,
sexiest garment––a scarlet mini-dress. The hemline halted at her upper thighs and the fabric clung to her
figure. Red favored her coloring, too, making
her otherwise drab brown hair shimmer with auburn highlights and her light
brown eyes appear larger. At Daphne’s
insistence, Carisa wore her hair down, the waist-length tresses cascading in a
wild series of curls that proved far more flattering than the bun she usually
skewered on top of her head. She put on
more make-up than her normal foundation and a touch of lip-gloss too, all because Daphne swore Alex Milton would be worth the
effort.
“I
look like someone else,” Carisa complained as she leaned closer to the vanity mirror to study her appearance.
“You
look amazing,” Daphne told her.
Carisa
sighed. No matter how lovely she might
look––and she had her doubts––she expected this date would tank, just like all
the others. Getting asked out wasn’t a
problem. Surviving a date without managing to bore, offend, or anger a man had
proved tricky. She loathed sports with
a passion, so she couldn’t talk teams or scores. Lifelong allergies prevented her from contact
with anything with fur, so dog lovers and fans of felines were out. Her lactose intolerance made dining out
difficult. More than once she’d ordered
something seemingly innocuous, which actually included dairy. Stomach cramps strong enough to make her
double over tended to put a damper on a date.
Although
warned never to talk religion or politics, some men brought up the topics and
when she expressed her honest opinion, the guys responded with harsh arguments
or called her an idiot––or something worse. Carisa’s musical tastes ran to ragtime and big band music, vintage stuff,
so she couldn’t speak with any authority about rap or rock or even current
country. She didn’t watch much
television and her movie preferences leaned toward classics, especially black
and white films. Nor did Carisa hunt,
fish, or hike. She loved to read, but
most men she met never opened a book.
Her
unique tastes left just a few conversation topics: boring things like weather,
books, and gardening. So far, she’d
never met a man interested in any of those. Besides, at just twenty-five years old Carisa often felt as jaded as a
Victorian spinster. Sometimes she
wondered if such a thing as love really existed outside of novels, movies, or
songs. Her parents split when she was no
more than a toddler, and she knew more divorced people than happily married
couples.
With
a sigh, she dismissed her heavy thoughts. Carisa spritzed a little more hair
spray onto her curls just as the doorbell rang and she jumped.
“That
must be him.”
Daphne
laughed. “I imagine it is. Chill out, honey. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. You’re going to like Alex just fine.”
Maybe , Carisa thought, but will he like me ?
Chest
tight, heart pounding, she rushed to open the door. The casual greeting she’d prepared vanished,
as Carisa stared up at six and a half feet of
masculine perfection. Alex Milton wasn’t
just good looking––the man was gorgeous. Sun-streaked light brown hair framed his face, as rugged as John Wayne’s
but far more attractive. Green eyes flared
with life as he looked at Carisa . His slender lips formed a smile.
“Hey,”
he said in a delicious voice, deep and a little husky. “I’m Alex Milton.”
She
grinned back. “And I’m Carisa Russo. Come in, please. I’m almost ready.”
Daphne
materialized and waved. “Hi, Alex.”
“Hello.”
“Good
to see you in my home environment, boss man,”
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