Change of the Heart

  By K.J. Wolf

  Copyright © 2012 by K.J. Wolf

  ISBN: 978-1-938076-25-1

  All Rights Reserved

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and is punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Dedication

  To the first and second big guys in my life. You made it possible.

  CHAPTER 1

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Camille White narrowed her eyes at the cab driver’s reflection in the rear view mirror.

  “Excuse me?”

  He lowered his brows as his eyes shifted to the road and he cleared his throat. “I asked where to, ma’am.”

  Sure he did. Just perfect. After the night she’d had at the office party, and then waiting for over an hour in the frigid snow. Sure, it snowed in New York City, but not one flake had fallen all month. The first damn snowfall just had to start that afternoon.

  Everything should have been different. It was her favorite time of year, and she’d had her future all tied up with a bow, ready to receive it. Her plan had failed. She shouldn’t be alone right now, especially this time of the year. It didn’t help that every minute or so she’d passed bundled-up couples rushing by, arm in arm and snuggled close together. She had thought she would be with someone special tonight, but then everything had gone to hell. Each time slush sprayed on her from a passing car, it felt like a higher power was reaching out and slapping her for being so naïve.

  Normally, the decorations and lights twinkling in the storefront and office windows lining the street cheered her up, but not now, as she waved like a madwoman hoping a cab would stop.

  Every flake stuck to her skin and clothes. Her feet had gone from burning to numb in open-toe wedge heels and she cursed herself for not bringing her boots along. She’d started to believe she’d become a magnet for bad karma.

  Was it really just this morning she’d strutted along this same sidewalk grinning at passersby like a fool with her shoulders back, head held high, and expectations for good things to come?

  After all, it was the season of hope.

  Boy, had she been wrong. She’d been foolish and stupid.

  There was no reason to expect her luck to change. She was still wearing the long, matronly angel costume and no coat, and of course she would get the one snarky cabbie available in Manhattan the Friday before Christmas.

  Rather than risk a confrontation and lose his cooperation, she decided to let his comment slide. She just wanted to get the hell out of the city. “How far do you go?”

  His eyes flew back to hers in the mirror. “How far are we talkin’?”

  Camille licked her lips and glanced around the back seat. “Greenwood Lake?” It took an hour to get there. She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

  The silence stretched on, and she risked a peek at him. He continued to glare at her for a couple of seconds before shifting the cab into drive and pressing the accelerator hard enough to throw her back into the seat.

  At least the cab was more comfortable than the train she usually took home. The office party had lasted well past the last train, but she’d thought the investment in a cab ride home would be worth it. Now she was out of a job and spending money she couldn’t afford on a cab driven by Captain Curt.

  Camille slumped and let out a sigh. The office holiday costume party should have been her chance to steal a few minutes with her boss and pitch her ideas for the new product line. She had been sure he’d consider her for the position opening up in the New Year, or at the very least commit to scheduling a meeting to discuss her ideas further. And it should have opened the door to their personal future, too.

  Man, had she miscalculated everything. The ridiculousness of how naive she’d been made her snort out loud. The cabbie glanced back at her.

  “Everything okay?” he asked. His tone didn't sound like someone who actually cared. It sounded like someone who got annoyed easily. Just great.

  She twisted her mouth to the side and raised her eyebrows. No, everything wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t about to use the cab driver as her therapist; she was still miffed about the snide remark he made when she got into the cab and his surly attitude.

  “Yeah. Super.”

  He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. She couldn’t help but watch those lips until his head angled away.

  Camille exhaled long and slow before resting her forehead against the cold glass of the window. She watched the fog from her breath grow and fade against the window in time with the wiper blades. Within minutes, her focus shifted to the brightly decorated neighborhoods beyond the glass. Now in the warm, dry cab, Camille allowed the lights adorning the city that glistened against the accumulating snow to chip through her foul mood as the streets blurred by.

  No matter how miserable she felt on the inside, the Christmas decorations lifted her spirits. She usually flew upstate to spend the holidays with her family, but this year she’d been sure she’d be spending the holidays celebrating in the city. The mere thought of the huge Christmas tree in her parents’ living room next to the roaring fire warmed inside. Now all she needed was the smell of pine and cinnamon and a hot cup of cocoa to be able to leave the entire mess here behind.

  The magic of the season’s memories seeped into her heart, making it lighter. Had she been a fool? Absolutely. The humiliation of what had happened at the office worked like magic at opening her eyes to the farce of a fairy tale she'd believed she'd found during the last year.

  Anyone else might have given up hope of finding someone special.

  But love was out there, just waiting for her to find it with the right guy. She trusted and got burned. There was no way she’d let that stop her from looking for the real thing. I had to be out there.

  Love waited for her. Maybe there would be someone special in her life by next Christmas.

  It could happen. The mere thought of it lifted her spirits higher. She hummed Jingles Bells to herself.

  During the second verse, the cab driver cleared his throat. “Do you mind not doing that? I don’t allow Christmas music in my cab.”

  Camille tensed, and her eyes widened. “Why? Are you Jewish?”

  She watched him shake his head and waited for an explanation. None came. Rubbing the back of her neck, she resisted the urge to call him a Grinch. He probably wasn’t worth the breath or energy anyway.

  She focused her eyes on the back of his head. She’d already appreciated his full, strong lips, and she now realized that he was hot. Really hot. Oh, hell. This was the last thing she needed.

  She let out an un-ladylike snort.

  Mr. Hottie Cabbie glanced over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She snorted again. “Depends on your definition of ‘okay’.”

  He tensed behind the wheel. “Listen, lady. I don’t need any shenanigans tonight. I just want to get through my shift and go home. That’s it. Are we gonna have any problems?”

  The cab slowed and veered to the side of the road.

  “No!” she shouted, grabbing the back of the passenger seat. “No, please don’t stop. It’s just been a... long night. I want to get home, too.” His lips formed a thin line, and his eyes spent too much time on her and not the road. She pointed forward, eyebrows raised. “Do you mind?”

  “I know how to drive,” he had the gall to mutter. “The last thing I need is a woman telling me how to do my job.”

  “Excuse me? What is your problem?” She leaned over the passenger seat headrest and squinted to get a good look at his name tag. “Matt Day, is it? You’ve been a delight to drive with this evening, but I get the feeling I’ve somehow irritated or offended you. Do you want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  He cleared his throat. “I gotta ask. What’s with the costume?”

  Camille had forgotten about the ridiculous halo hanging over her head and the wings on the seat. Of course she looked absurd.

  “Oh. I, uh, had a holiday party tonight. It was a holiday character theme, and costumes weren’t optional.”

  “So you dressed like an angel.” He wrinkled his nose, suspending any doubt she had at the mocking in his voice.

  “What’s wrong with an angel?”

  She saw him roll his eyes in the rear view mirror. “Nothing’s wrong with an angel. It’s when a woman... Never mind.”

  Hell no. He couldn’t begin a statement like that one without finishing it. “When a woman what?”

  He shifted in his seat and scratched the back of his neck. Good, she thought. Let him squirm for what he was about to say.

  “Women aren’t angels. It’s just... comical, I guess, to see a woman who thinks she’s good enough to carry off that kind of costume.”

  She ground her teeth and flopped back onto the seat. The anger coursing through her veins pressed the limits of all her systems. She closed her eyes and counted back from ten, a trick she’d learned at the office, ending with a deep inhale and exhale. Keeping cool had to be her goal. Getting home had to stay more important than taking him on because of his chauvinistic opinion.

  “What have you got against women?”

  It was his t urn to snort. “The list of what I haven’t got against women is shorter, lady.”

  Awesome. The guy was so damaged he couldn’t even back his douche-bag opinion with a specific complaint or two. She was stuck in a cab for a good while with a woman-hater. It was just her luck to go from the woman-user at the office to the woman-hater behind the wheel. She made a face at the back of his head and took a deep breath.

  The vehicle smelled clean, like soap and mint. It was exactly how a man should smell. Her eyes kept wandering to look back at him, no matter how hard she tried to focus elsewhere. Her fingers ached to run through his dark, unruly hair that hung just a tad too long. End-of-the-day stubble lined his jaw. But his lips were made for kissing. She wanted to test that particular skill with her own lips.

  And his eyes, ice blue eyes that flashed in the rear view mirror under the glare of passing street lights and contrasted with his dark, haphazardly-styled hair made her heart rate raise until her cumbersome white robe felt too warm. He was hot, in a blue-collar, smart-ass kind of way.

  What was she doing? She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes and rubbed circle after circle. Had she really been checking out the jerk who’d just insulted her gender? The bad boys scored once again. She could never figure out the attraction of the bad boys. Yet here she sat, twenty-seven years old and still falling victim to their charms.

  Case in point: tonight’s office party debacle. Camille had taken the time to plan her proposal and costume, knowing that the party would be the perfect chance to wow her boss and take both their professional and personal relationships to the next level. She’d deliberately bypassed the sexy angel costumes at the party store and had chosen the modest, sheet-like garment that was now bunched between her legs. It was what she had planned to wear underneath that was supposed to have been the game-changer. When they made love to celebrate her promotion and he saw the teddy, how could he not want their personal relationship to progress?

  Camille closed her eyes and remembered the beginning of the end. She’d been fooling around in secret with her boss, Jerry, for a year, and the flirtatious game hadn’t been moving forward like she’d hoped. He represented everything she thought she wanted: power, security, and love. Especially love. She saw the holiday party as her opportunity to take things up a notch.

  She had made her move when Jerry stood alone at the drink table pouring himself a scotch.

  It looked odd that he was still dressed for work while surrounded by holiday music and costumed employees, but the boss could do what he wanted. The way he always looked sleek and confident with his expensive tailored suits, slicked back blond hair and million-dollar smile made her body quiver.

  He glanced her way when she reached for the vodka. “Not a sissy with your drinks, are ya’, Cam?”

  “Hell, no. Gotta hold my own if I want to run with the big dogs,” she replied loud enough to be heard over the holiday music, filling her glass and raising it to the room full of revelers.

  Jerry edged closer, pressing his hip against her side. “You look positively virginal tonight, Cam. You’re not turning prude, are you?” He nudged her with his elbow.

  She nudged back and leaned close to his ear. “Trust me, Jerry. What I’m wearing underneath is the farthest thing from virginal.”

  His head snapped to look at her, eyes alight with desire. He turned to his drink, threw the rest back, and cleared his throat. “Miss White, I think I’m ready to hear your presentation now.

  Shall we go to my office?” he asked, loud enough for bystanders to overhear.

  Camille nodded her head, every muscle tense. “Just let me get my file and I’ll be right there.”

  Jerry winked at her, refilled his glass and sauntered to his office, leaving the door ajar. She scrambled to her cubicle, searched through her bag, and grabbed her presentation folder. Closing her eyes and leaning against the partition, she willed her pulse to slow.

  She'd been preparing for this moment every day for the past month. When she hadn't been at work, she'd spent her time at home doing research, preparing an outline of her plans and writing her presentation speech. She'd even stayed up the night before standing in front of the mirror practicing her tone, facial expressions and gestures. It had been an investment in her future, she told herself. Now it was time to see it pay off.

  Camille made her way toward the partiers, most of whom were drunk and engaged in inappropriate office behavior. She pushed her way through crowded areas, bumping shoulders and responding to slurred holiday wishes as she went.

  She saw him standing with his back to her, looking out the window behind his desk into the dark night. The door closed behind her with a quiet click, and he turned.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.” She wished her response hadn’t sounded so breathy. This could be her only shot.

  Camille cleared her throat and crossed the room to stand on the other side of his desk.

  “Thank you for taking this time with me, Jerry. I’m really excited about showing you my ideas.”

  Jerry finished his drink, slammed it on his desk, and in three long strides he was standing in front of her. “I’m excited to see what you’ve got on under that costume, Cam.”

  She chuckled as she flipped the folder open. “What I have in here is really more exciting, Jerry. In fact, take a look at—”

  He ripped the folder out of her hands, making the papers scatter across his desk and onto the floor. “I know what I want, and it’s underneath that sheet you’ve got on. Let’s get rid of it.”

  When he leaned in for a kiss, she took a step back and placed her hand on his chest. “Jerry, I’m serious! I want to talk about the new product line. I’ve got some great ideas that I know you’ll love.”

  He grabbed both wrists and angled close enough she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

  “I want you right now, Cam. Let’s forget the office bullshit and have some fun.”

  He dipped his head, pressing his wet lips hard on hers. When he broke away, he whispered,

  “I know you like the kind of fun I’m talking about.”

  Camille frowned at him. Why wouldn’t he listen to her? She twisted her wrists, but he wouldn’t release them.

  “Jerry, please. I want—”

  He mashed her lips underneath his until she turned to the side, gasping for breath.

  “I know what you want, you tease,” he hissed, releasing her arms and pushing her shoulders downward. “But I want you to give me what I want first. You’re so good at that.”

  Camille’s cheeks burned as her knees bent. What the hell had she been thinking? “No, Jerry! I want to show you my ideas. I want a shot at that promotion.”

  He pushed her down harder. “There’s no way you’re getting a promotion, Cam. We both know what you’re good for around here.”

  She landed on her knees, tears stinging her eyes and hung her head. She’d thought there was something more with Jerry. She couldn’t even call herself a whore. If she could, at least she’d have had something more than humiliation to take home with her.

  He pulled his zipper down and unleashed his erection. Bile rose in her throat. Had she ever really enjoyed any of their intimate times together?

  Jerry rubbed himself with his hand, waving his engorged penis in front of her mouth. She didn’t think twice before sinking her teeth into the tip. Luckily for her, someone turned up Santa Baby on the radio, and the sultry music swallowed his scream. The metallic taste of blood startled her out of her angry stupor. She fell back onto her heels and scrambled to her feet.

  Jerry fell onto his back, his legs pulled up to his chest and hands cupping his privates as he rolled from side to side, moaning. Although in shock, Camille wasn’t too far gone to enjoy the sight.

  She scrambled to gather her papers and folder, tripping over the hem of her angel costume on her way to the door. Just before she opened it, Jerry croaked, “You’re fired, you bitch!”

  The comment stung, even though she knew she’d rather be fired than work for the scum-sucking bastard. She turned, took slow, measured steps toward him and gently placed her heeled foot over his cupped hands, pressing down just enough to make him wince. “Go to hell, Jerry.”

  Camille was startled back to the present by a honking horn. She glanced at the driver but he appeared untroubled by the sound. In fact, he looked almost pleasant for the first time, which made him even more attractive. She told herself that the combination of her humiliation, the loss of her job, and her compromised self-esteem had left her aching to connect with somebody, anybody, and he was just the closest warm body.

 

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