Bliss, Inc. (Indigo Love Spectrum)

  Bliss, Inc.

  Chamein Canton

  Genesis Press, Inc.

  Indigo Love Spectrum

  An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.

  Publishing Company

  Genesis Press, Inc.

  P.O. Box 101

  Columbus, MS 39703

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

  Copyright© 2008 Chamein Canton

  ISBN-13: 978-1-58571-577-0

  ISBN-10: 1-58571-577-8

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition

  Visit us at www.genesis-press.com or call at 1-888-Indigo-1-4-0

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to all the hard-working women trying to make their place in the world. Take a little time to stop, smell the roses and let a little romance into your world. It’s the key to the sweet life.

  Acknowledgements

  Romance writers are a wonderfully hopeful lot. We dream up stories to put smiles on reader’s faces. It’s an awesome job and one I treasure. The romantic in me was nurtured by a loving family.

  I want to thank my father, Leonard F. Canton, Jr. whose love of family has kept me grounded and safe all my life. I couldn’t have gotten a better Dad if I’d mail ordered him.

  My mother, Mary Wallace, continues to strive to show love in the little things in life. My sister Sherman and my brother-in-law Donell have a relationship that is the essence of what real love is. Then there is my brother in spirit, Joel Woodard, who always reminds me how beautiful love is and Mrs. Frances Watkins who taught me the importance of loving myself.

  I also am grateful to the loves of my life, my sons Sean and Scott, who make every day wonderful and to my uncles, Calvin and Cecil Canton, who make me feel like a cherished niece even now.

  Thanks also to the man I love, Michael Bressler, for being wonderful and for always finding a way to make me smile.

  Then I also want to thank those I’ve lost but carry in my heart every day: Grandma Salley and Grandma Canton; my great-grandmother Dorothy Donadelle; my great-uncle, Ernest, “Unc” Donadelle; my Auntie Ruth, Uncle Willis, and Aunt Edna. Thanks also my to friends, near and far: James Weil, Eric Smith, Pearl Alston, and my favorite high school English teacher, Edward Kemnitzer. Thank you all for being in my life.

  Finally, thanks to the wonderful folks at Genesis Press: Deborah, Valerie, Diane, Brian, and Sidney. You are a terrific team and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

  CHAPTER 1

  Wearing a formfitting little black dress that showed off her curves, forty-two-year-old divorcee Paige Baldwin entered the hotel lobby of the Marriot Marquis. A little while earlier she had escaped from another bad blind date her best friend Adriana had set up. A professional wedding planner and owner of Bliss Inc., Paige’s business revolved around romance, yet her personal life was romance free. So her best friend had taken it upon herself to help resurrect her love life with disastrous results, that evening being the latest example.

  I know Adriana means well, but she has got to stop setting me up with guys who talk about their latest medical procedure over appetizers, she thought as she leaned against a wall to release her little toe from high-heeled pump bondage. “That’s much better,” she sighed as she wiggled her toes to restore blood flow. How anyone wears high heels all day is beyond me. She slipped her foot back into the shoe. I still can’t believe what happened. It’s a beautiful evening, my son is with his dad, I’m wearing a new dress and in one of the most romantic restaurants in Manhattan, this guy decides it’s the perfect setting to discuss his last colonoscopy. It was like being trapped in some warped version of show and tell, only without the pictures—probably because they wouldn’t fit in his wallet. She laughed to herself. I could have had a V-8. To think I missed Top Chef for this. If this is dating over 40 I need a drink. At that moment she headed for the hotel bar.

  Thirty-three-year-old Matthew Smythe walked into the lobby like a claustrophobic man escaping from a confined space. He’d been attending an engagement party in one of the spacious event rooms and all the questions about his bachelor status had left him with the need to catch his breath. What is it about weddings and engagement parties? Can’t I be a happy single guy? Is that so hard to believe? He took another deep breath and loosened his tie.

  Matthew was the son of socialites Douglas and Margaret Smythe. With relatives that traced back to the Mayflower, the Smythes were accorded a certain position within high society. However Matthew was somewhat of a rebel; he’d attended Brown instead of Harvard, he wore Dockers, had bought a brownstone in Harlem instead of the Upper East Side, and taught high school history above Ninety-Sixth Street.

  The Smythes were known for their philanthropic work so his parents supported his decision to be a teacher. Nevertheless they tried to set him up with as many well-heeled young ladies as possible. After all, Matthew was six feet, four inches tall and muscular, with hazel eyes and thick, dark, wavy hair. Unfortunately, Matt wasn’t interested in the society debutantes; he preferred to meet women on his own. He usually avoided high-society functions but he’d made an exception today for his younger brother’s engagement party. He’d even managed to stay for a couple of hours before the parade of debutantes got to be too much. I could use a drink, he thought and headed to the bar.

  Paige nursed a margarita at the bar. She kept her phony glasses on just in case another guy over forty with psoriasis decided to strike up a conversation about the perils of hydrocortisone, but she still looked seductive as she watched ESPN for the sports wrap-up. Matthew approached the bar and ordered a drink. As the bartender mixed Scotch and soda, he noticed Paige.

  Wow. Now there’s a devil in a black dress. She looks as if someone poured her into that dress. Now that’s more like it. This woman has it going on. Hot under the collar, Matthew loosened his tie.

  Paige glanced his way for a moment. Now there’s a cutie. He looks young. What’s wrong with young? I’m a young forty-two, more like an Indian summer vibe, she thought as she sipped her drink.

  For his part Matthew was wondering if she would like some company. Matthew took a sip of Scotch for courage, and then Scotch in hand, walked over to Paige. “Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked.

  “Not at all.” She continued to stare at the television. His eyes were amazing. She glanced down at his hands. Mmm, strong hands too. Forget shoe size; I like strong hands. She traced her fingers around the rim of the glass. Evan Mann had big feet and Adriana said she needed a magnifying glass and tweezers to find it. Paige softly chuckled.

  “Anything new in the world of sports?”

  Oh, listen to that smooth voice. “Damned if I know. I’ve narrowed my sports news down to just New York teams.”

  “You sound like a woman who knows her mind.”

  “That’s about all I know.” Except you’re the sexiest man I’ve seen in a long time.

  “Somehow I doubt that.” He paused. “Are you here for a conference or something?”

  “Or something is more like it. I’m just
here for a breather.” I wonder what he has in mind. She tossed her hair.

  “Hey, I hear you. I went to a party tonight. It was good for a while but then I started to feel like someone was sucking all the air out of the room. I just had to get out of there.”

  “What kind of party was it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “It was an engagement party.”

  “Yours?” I hope it wasn’t. It would be a shame to miss out on those hands, and maybe a few other parts of his anatomy. Paige hid her smile behind her margarita glass.

  “No.”

  She nodded her head. “I see. You had the misfortune of being a single guy at an engagement party.”

  “Exactly.” He sipped his drink. “Are you married?”

  “I’m divorced.” Thank God.

  “Are you down on love?” He hoped she’d say no. It would be a shame to let a fine, vibrant, and sexy woman like her languish on the vine.

  “Not at all, in fact I’m a hopeless romantic.”

  “Good for you, that’s nice to hear. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “I didn’t give it to you and I’d like to keep it that way. Names only mess things up. I think both of us need a break from the ordinary.” And maybe a roll in the hay if he plays his cards right. She twirled her hair.

  Was that an indicator she wanted sex? Please God let me be right. ”You’ll get no arguments from me.”

  They did an unofficial toast for the evening.

  A few hours later Paige and Matthew kissed urgently as he tried to swipe his keycard for the room he luckily booked before the party. Finally the door opened and the two practically fell into the room. There was a sense of urgency as their clothes came off. He lifted Paige, kissing her neck and soft, supple breasts. She stopped him.

  “Before we go any further I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m not that kind of woman.”

  “I know.”

  “Good.”

  Paige placed her glasses on the night table next to the bed and they picked up where they’d left off. His kisses unlocked her inhibitions so she climbed on top of him. In all her curvy glory, her pinned up hair falling into long loose curls, Paige was a café au lait Lady Godiva. Though she looked so beautiful on top, Matthew hungered to kiss her and he rolled her onto her back. They made passionate love, shaking the bed in their fervor. Unbeknownst, Paige’s glasses fell unnoticed onto the floor.

  The next morning while Matthew slept, Paige quietly retrieved her clothes and got dressed, then planted one last kiss on his cheek. As she was about to leave, she realized she was missing her glasses and nearly panicked before spotting them on the floor. But they were broken. She glanced over at Matthew. We did this? She smiled and placed them in her purse as a memento of her one wild night. With her shoes and coat in hand, she quietly left the room.

  A little while later Matthew woke up alone. He got up and checked the bathroom, but his mysterious woman from last night was nowhere to be found. Disappointed, he showered and dressed. As he was about to leave, he picked up his keycard to keep as a memento.

  * * *

  A week later Paige was back at work, haggling with one of her vendors.

  “Sir, I know blue, and this certainly is not blue.” Paige waved the offending flower girl’s wreath under the vendor’s nose.

  He retrieved a swatch and held it against the wreath. “The flowers in this wreath are the same blue as the swatch.”

  After a day in heels, Paige heard her feet calling for a resolution.

  “You’re only half right, Barry.” She clenched her fist around the flower wreath in one hand and the swatch in the other. “This swatch is the color we chose. This wreath is black and white, not blue and white.”

  His retail business life flashed before his eyes so he made a quick decision.

  “We can get another one at no cost to your bride and try to get it re-dyed in time for the wedding.”

  Pleased as punch, Paige managed to remain gracious in victory. “Good. The wedding is in two and a half weeks. How fast can you get it?”

  “We’ll put a rush on it so I’d say anywhere from three to five days.”

  Before Paige could respond, before she could get a word out, Barry said, “I give it three days tops.”

  “Great, this way if it comes back black and white again, we’ll just go with the white wreath at no charge, right, Barry?”

  He gulped down the bitter pill. “That’s right, Ms. Baldwin.”

  “Since you assured us we could get the color, you will refund the money for the headpieces if it happens again.”

  He was ready to surrender, but this left him incredulous. “You want a full refund for all four headpieces?”

  Undaunted, Paige didn’t miss a beat. “Yes. I do. We’ve been going around in circles over these headpieces for weeks.” She shook her head. “I bring you a lot of business, Barry.” Paige paused for effect. “I do have a list of people dying to be on my vendor’s list. It’s up to you.”

  “Fine,” he huffed.

  Paige placed a document on the counter. “Okay. If you’ll just sign here, we’re all done.”

  He looked surprised. “You want me to sign off on this? My word isn’t good enough?”

  Paige placed a pen on the counter. “You know I started out as a lawyer, Barry. I don’t trust anyone’s word. So are you going to sign this or what?”

  He picked the pen up.

  “I think you should read it before you sign.”

  Barry read the document, then signed.

  Paige handed him a copy. “Thanks, Barry. You’ll be hearing from me soon.” She smiled as she turned on her heel and strutted out the door.

  Frankly he should have known better than to promise he’d be able to dye a flower wreath navy blue and white, she thought as she got in her car. Besides, it’s not like I didn’t try to give him an out, she rationalized.

  Her phone rang as she backed out.

  “Hi. This is Paige,” she answered sweetly.

  “Hey. How did it go with Brown?” Adriana asked anxiously.

  “He signed off on the changes. We’re in the clear.”

  Adriana chuckled. “Leave it to you to get the job done. I don’t think I could have taken another minute of going around and around in circles. How did you do it?”

  “Maybe it’s my Italian suit but I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

  “You know you’re supposed to say it like Brando,” Adriana joked.

  Paige shrugged her shoulders. “So I channeled The Godfather without marbles in my mouth. Sue me.” She laughed.

  “Good. Now we can talk about that date you backed out of.”

  Paige sighed. “I knew that was coming.”

  A sudden thump startled both women.

  “What was that?” Paige asked.

  “Good God! That was little A.J.! Listen, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you tomorrow on the court.”

  I owe you a big lollipop, A.J., she thought to herself.

  * * *

  The next morning at 5:00 a.m., Adriana and Paige were on the tennis court. Best friends since grade school, Adriana Davenport Tassone and Paige Baldwin were the “big” girls on campus before the politically correct term “full-figured.” They hadn’t dated much, but they were on the tennis team in high school and college.

  They’d each been married and divorced. Adriana got up the nerve to try for another happily-ever-after with Joseph Tassone, which led to A.J. Tassone, her three-year-old little addition to her fourteen-year-old twins, Amanda and Nicole, from her first marriage. Paige had Max, her perfect baby, and felt it best to quit while she was ahead. They were in the midst of a Venus and Serena-like volley, only they didn’t grunt or groan after every shot. Paige returned a shot with her killer backhand. Adriana couldn’t get to it in time.

  “That’s the game.”

  Adriana struggled to catch her breath. “You and your backhand.”

  “I know.�
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  “God, I remember how girls on the other teams hated to see you on the schedule. They knew they were in for it. But at least it wasn’t long and painful.”

  Paige grabbed her towel from the net and wiped her face. “I had to do it quickly. Those were the days before good sports bras. I had to bind my boobs with ace bandages so I wouldn’t put my eye out. I played quickly because it hurt like hell.”

  Adriana laughed and the two women sat down.

  “Now let’s talk about your date.”

  “I knew I wouldn’t get off that easy.”

  “I go out of my way to find you interesting, successful guys and somehow you always find a way to blow them off.”

  “Wait a minute, sister, I didn’t blow this one off. I went on the date, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but I ran into Ken at the supermarket a couple of days ago and he said he’s called you a few times but you haven’t returned his calls.”

  “I’ve been busy,” Paige protested.

  “Don’t give me that. You didn’t want to call him. What happened?”

  Paige rolled her eyes. “Nothing. Ken’s a nice guy.”

  “Uh-oh, I think there’s a preposition heading my way.”

  “There wasn’t any connection.”

  “Well, he thought there was.”

  “I guess I’m a better actress than I thought.”

  Adriana laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean? You guys didn’t…”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter! I did not sleep with him.” I did sleep with someone else, though. She quietly relished the thought.

  “What’s with that little grin?”

  “I can assure you that I didn’t sleep with him. However, I did listen to a scintillating account of his colonoscopy.”

  Adriana burst into laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Yeah, you go ahead and laugh. It seems you married the last guy over forty who doesn’t think talking about his hairline, prostate, colon, or penis qualifies as dinner conversation.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “You’re not out here anymore, you have no idea.”