Enchanted Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

friend that Viv had. She’d never really gotten along with women; that included female photographers, even though some of the best work in her portfolio had been shot by women.
    She finished payroll, then made a neat stack of the work she’d do first thing in the morning. She’d made the mistake of telling her accountant Basil about her expansion ideas. He’d proceeded to shoot her down and had even followed up with a detailed letter outlining the reasons why it wouldn’t work. For a couple of weeks, Viv put off answering that letter. Since he’d decided to jump all official and send it on letterhead, she’d respond in the same way.
    But not right now.
    She put his nasty-gram in a floral folder—it was always better to wrap unpleasant things in pretty packaging. She stuffed in that same folder a couple of other notes on tasks she’d been delaying and placed the folder on top of the stack of other work to do.
    Julian was definitely the diversion she needed tonight.
    Â 
    Â 
    Cloud 9 was tucked between a former bank that had been converted into a trendy furniture store and an artist’s cooperative that doubled as a small performing arts venue. The restaurant was small, but Viv loved it the moment she walked in the door. Calming blues and creams made up the overall decor. The tables were covered in layered fabrics of the same colors. And everywhere she looked, angels peeked at her, naughty ones, sexy ones, angelic ones.
    A mural on a wall illustrated an artist’s interpretation of what it meant to ride on cloud nine: angels were hanging ten on surfboards, a couple of them zipped by a fluffy cloud on a Harley, and in obvious deference to the heavy military presence in the region, one gave a jaunty wave while piloting an F-15 fighter jet. And when a server passed by with a tray of drinks, Viv grinned. Angel wings sprouted from the woman’s back.
    â€œJust what the doctor ordered,” she said.
    A moment later, she spotted Julian at the bar. As usual, he was dressed in black. She’d been trying, obviously to no avail, to get him to drop the New York night-at-the-art-gallery look, but he’d insisted that as a publicist he had a certain style to live up to. He apparently didn’t mind that he looked like a cliché.
    When they’d first met, Viv would have put money on the table that Julian was gay. From his speech to his mannerisms, everything about him put her gaydar on full alert. But he insisted he was straight, and he’d been playing a mighty convincing role of heterosexual all this time. No matter his sexual preference, she loved him dearly.
    Viv paused, her brow furrowing for a moment. The answer to her relationship problems was right there, if she could just put her finger on it. But before she could narrow the focus of her thoughts, Julian flagged her.
    â€œThere you are, Viv,” he said, approaching with what undoubtedly was a rum and Coke in one hand. “Isn’t this place wonderful?”
    After air kisses, she let Julian steer her to a table for two tucked in a corner. Viv frowned. He knew she liked to be at the best table in the house.
    â€œI just ordered your Cosmopolitan,” he said. “They make them with Grand Marnier and a cherry cranberry juice. I think you’ll like it.”
    â€œJulian, this table . . .”
    His face scrunched into a moue. “I know. But we didn’t have reservations. I had to drop a twenty just to get this.”
    She decided to forgive him. This time. But she wondered if a man like Lance Heart Smith would be escorted to a table in the corner, reservation or not.
    They dissected the menu, argued over what sounded interesting, asked the waiter in pale-blue wings and sparkling white shirt for recommendations and ended up ordering a sampler platter of appetizers and adventurous entrees.
    As she sat with Julian, chitchatting about the day, she realized she’d yet to share with him the most