pen from her night-table drawer and scribbled it down in the back page of her book.
As they said their good-byes, Kerri sat, stunned beyond belief. With the cell phone still tight in her grasp, something shifted deep inside her. Her heart began to hammer at a fast rate. A fluttering feeling moved through her, settling in her stomach. At that moment she knew. She had fallen in love with Wolfe Phalen.
***
Sipping his coffee, Wolfe leaned on the railing of his balcony and glanced down at the teeming city life flourishing all around him.
From the vantage point of his luxury penthouse condo, he watched the Toronto Blue Jays taking batting practice at Rogers Centre. With the roof open at the stadium, he had an unfettered view. Boats sailed by on nearby Lake Ontario. He had to admit, the view was as magnificent as advertised.
He had fought Janice on this purchase. He desired a more private, rural setting. But she’d nagged, saying it would be a good investment. Well, she’d been right on that point. He’d bought it three years ago at around nine hundred thousand; the real-estate agent told him yesterday even though prices had dropped in the Toronto area, she could sell this right away for a cool one-point-three million. Raising his coffee mug, he silently saluted his ex-wife. He would make a tidy profit and would not have to share it with her, thanks to the prenup.
Wolfe turned and walked back inside. The place had been emptied out when Janice left. She whined she’d wanted the furnishings since she had gone to all the trouble of decorating the two-thousand-square-foot condo. He’d been too weary to argue, and what did he care about a few chairs and paintings? All that remained in the living room was his leather recliner. She’d even taken the television and end tables. The window coverings, too. If it would’ve made her leave any quicker, he would’ve allowed her to rip up the wood floors and take the light fixtures.
Why she had insisted on a condo with a gourmet kitchen puzzled him, as she couldn’t boil water. He wasn’t much better. He could cook eggs, a steak, open a can without slicing his finger off. Other than that, he hadn’t eaten much lately, the proof showed in the way his jeans hung loose on his hips. The doctor had told him he needed to put on fifteen pounds to be at a healthy weight for his six-foot-three frame.
Something else to see to. Add it to his never-ending “vile tasks” list. Last night he’d walked to a nearby restaurant and ordered a huge meal: steak, potato, veg, salad—the whole works. It had been the most he had eaten at any one sitting in months. This morning, he felt good. Had energy. So fuck it, he’d gone back to the same place and had a huge, honking breakfast.
What task was next?
Kerri.
He’d gone to counseling every day since he’d returned. He talked about Kerri, his parents, his group, and his disappointments. The doctor had given him lame coping-skill lessons, but at this point, he would try anything, and truthfully, the strategies worked. He relayed Kerri’s statement to the doc about no one is ever at one hundred percent, all the time. The doc had agreed.
“Do you love this woman?”
“I just met her.”
“What does that matter? What are your feelings? Don’t deny your emotions. Don’t bury them. You say you no longer feel numb? You’re on the right road, Wolfe. Keep walking. Pick up the pace and meet this woman halfway.”
Sound advice. It had given him plenty to think about. Why not pick up the pace?
The phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. He placed his mug on the counter, and then reached for the nearby cordless.
“Mr. Phelan? We have a Ms. Kerri Coleson here at reception. Shall I send her up?”
“Yes. She’s my guest.”
He hung up. Every synapse snapped to life in anticipation. She seemed to like it when he dressed in the black jeans and shirt, so he’d done the same today. He had also shaved off the sparse facial hair and
As they said their good-byes, Kerri sat, stunned beyond belief. With the cell phone still tight in her grasp, something shifted deep inside her. Her heart began to hammer at a fast rate. A fluttering feeling moved through her, settling in her stomach. At that moment she knew. She had fallen in love with Wolfe Phalen.
***
Sipping his coffee, Wolfe leaned on the railing of his balcony and glanced down at the teeming city life flourishing all around him.
From the vantage point of his luxury penthouse condo, he watched the Toronto Blue Jays taking batting practice at Rogers Centre. With the roof open at the stadium, he had an unfettered view. Boats sailed by on nearby Lake Ontario. He had to admit, the view was as magnificent as advertised.
He had fought Janice on this purchase. He desired a more private, rural setting. But she’d nagged, saying it would be a good investment. Well, she’d been right on that point. He’d bought it three years ago at around nine hundred thousand; the real-estate agent told him yesterday even though prices had dropped in the Toronto area, she could sell this right away for a cool one-point-three million. Raising his coffee mug, he silently saluted his ex-wife. He would make a tidy profit and would not have to share it with her, thanks to the prenup.
Wolfe turned and walked back inside. The place had been emptied out when Janice left. She whined she’d wanted the furnishings since she had gone to all the trouble of decorating the two-thousand-square-foot condo. He’d been too weary to argue, and what did he care about a few chairs and paintings? All that remained in the living room was his leather recliner. She’d even taken the television and end tables. The window coverings, too. If it would’ve made her leave any quicker, he would’ve allowed her to rip up the wood floors and take the light fixtures.
Why she had insisted on a condo with a gourmet kitchen puzzled him, as she couldn’t boil water. He wasn’t much better. He could cook eggs, a steak, open a can without slicing his finger off. Other than that, he hadn’t eaten much lately, the proof showed in the way his jeans hung loose on his hips. The doctor had told him he needed to put on fifteen pounds to be at a healthy weight for his six-foot-three frame.
Something else to see to. Add it to his never-ending “vile tasks” list. Last night he’d walked to a nearby restaurant and ordered a huge meal: steak, potato, veg, salad—the whole works. It had been the most he had eaten at any one sitting in months. This morning, he felt good. Had energy. So fuck it, he’d gone back to the same place and had a huge, honking breakfast.
What task was next?
Kerri.
He’d gone to counseling every day since he’d returned. He talked about Kerri, his parents, his group, and his disappointments. The doctor had given him lame coping-skill lessons, but at this point, he would try anything, and truthfully, the strategies worked. He relayed Kerri’s statement to the doc about no one is ever at one hundred percent, all the time. The doc had agreed.
“Do you love this woman?”
“I just met her.”
“What does that matter? What are your feelings? Don’t deny your emotions. Don’t bury them. You say you no longer feel numb? You’re on the right road, Wolfe. Keep walking. Pick up the pace and meet this woman halfway.”
Sound advice. It had given him plenty to think about. Why not pick up the pace?
The phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. He placed his mug on the counter, and then reached for the nearby cordless.
“Mr. Phelan? We have a Ms. Kerri Coleson here at reception. Shall I send her up?”
“Yes. She’s my guest.”
He hung up. Every synapse snapped to life in anticipation. She seemed to like it when he dressed in the black jeans and shirt, so he’d done the same today. He had also shaved off the sparse facial hair and
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