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Taken by Storm
HEATHER MACALLISTER
What happens on the road…Zoey Archer has a long, glorious history of disaster. Financially, professionally…and, oh, yes, a junkyard full of romantic wreckage. All she wants is a chance to prove that she can be Absolutely Capable and Reliable Zoey. And if that means escorting her sister's high-maintenance purebred dog to the other side of the country, nothing can stop her.Except the weather.Fortunately, craft brewery owner Cameron MacNeil is just as desperate to get to Seattle as Zoey. But while her new travel companion seems like a gift from God, he's also one very hot distraction. And on a cross-country road trip with a blizzard raging outside, there are very few places to hide from the storm….
What happens on the road…
Zoey Archer has a long, glorious history of disaster. Financially, professionally…and, oh, yes, a junkyard full of romantic wreckage. All she wants is a chance to prove that she can be Absolutely Capable and Reliable Zoey. And if that means escorting her sister’s high-maintenance purebred dog to the other side of the country, nothing can stop her.
Except the weather.
Fortunately, craft brewery owner Cameron MacNeil is just as desperate to get to Seattle as Zoey. But while her new travel companion seems like a gift from God, he’s also one very hot distraction. And on a cross-country road trip with a blizzard raging outside, there are very few places to hide from the storm….
“It would be worth it.”
Zoey’s eyes widened. “What makes you so sure?”
“The chemistry between us.” Cam gestured back and forth. “You’ve felt it. I know you have.”
“Prove it,” she said.
“What?”
“Prove we’ve got chemistry worth pursuing. Give it your best sh—”
Cam pulled her to him, lowered his head and locked his lips to hers. Yeah, he kissed her. Right there, right then, in the perishable cargo area of one of the largest airports in the world. Reliable, hardworking, you-need-to-loosen-up Cameron MacNeil kissed a woman he’d known less than an hour. Deeply kissed. Passionately kissed.
Warmth raced through him, with desire close behind.
Zoey gasped, drawing his breath from him.
Wow, did they have chemistry. Combustible, take-cover chemistry.
She tasted good. She was warm toasted malt and wheat. He also detected a little added unidentifiable spice, a secret Zoey spice that kept it interesting. If he could bottle her, he’d have a winner.
Cam lost himself in the slow, thorough kiss. Gus was right again. Cam needed a woman—but not just any woman.
This woman.
Dear Reader (#u2ad8b57d-558b-57d3-87c8-9ad252a7434f),
Have you ever been stuck in an airport? Several years ago I was stranded at SeaTac. After standing in line for hours, I learned that it would be five days before I could fly home. Fortunately, I didn’t have to spend them in the airport. Others decided not to wait. I watched total strangers form groups and rent cars and vans so they could drive to another airport. I knew that someday I was going to write a book where the hero and heroine did the same thing. Taken by Storm is that book.
After a blizzard cancels their flight, Zoey and her sister’s champion Afghan hound accept a ride with Cam, a handsome Texas brewer. Thus begins their road romance as they battle time, snow and a neurotic dog—and fall in love anyway. I hope you enjoy their adventure!
Best wishes,
Heather MacAllister
www.HeatherMacAllister.com (http://www.HeatherMacAllister.com)www.Facebook.com/HeatherMacAllisterBooks (http://www.Facebook.com/HeatherMacAllisterBooks)www.Twitter.com/Heather_Mac (http://www.Twitter.com/Heather_Mac)
Taken by
Storm
Heather MacAllister
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Heather MacAllister lives near the Texas gulf coast, where, in spite of the ten-month growing season and plenty of humidity, she can’t grow plants. She’s a former music teacher who married her high school sweetheart on the fourth of July, so is it any surprise that their two sons turned out to be a couple of firecrackers? Heather has written over forty-five romances, which have been translated into twenty-six languages and published in dozens of countries. She’s won the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award, several awards from RT Book Reviews and she’s a three-time Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist, but she’s most proud of the notes from readers saying her stories made them laugh. When she’s not writing, Heather collects vintage costume jewelry, and loves fireworks displays and sons who answer their mother’s texts. You can visit her at www.heathermacallister.com (http://www.heathermacallister.com), like her at www.facebook.com/heathermacallisterbooks (http://www.facebook.com/heathermacallisterbooks), or follow her at www.twitter.com/heather_mac (http://www.twitter.com/heather_mac).
To Sherry and Kevin Fontenot
May you have a life filled with romance and happiness
Contents
Dear Reader (#ud468047a-1f2b-5eee-981d-cfbfdd0cb7d0),
Chapter 1 (#u6a902bc2-dae0-5908-9748-c73f212c49ce)
Chapter 2 (#u229ce78a-b3b8-5912-97d4-6eb954d4e004)
Chapter 3 (#u4a672705-c95a-52b4-8489-58f5ec9380f3)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
1
ZOEY ARCHER WAS three steps away from her desk when the phone rang. Three steps toward her first weekend off in months. And she hadn’t even left early, unlike all but one of her colleagues—the weird girl who spoke to people in a variety of accents and dressed in monotone outfits that didn’t quite match under the greenish fluorescent light of the Loring Industries customer-service call center, deep in the heart of Texas.
The phone chirped again. Weird Girl shot a look at Zoey, grabbed a pinkish red jacket and ran out the door before the call could roll over to her section. Zoey wondered what life Weird Girl was running to because nobody chose working in a megacorporation’s customer-service call center as a career. This was a survival job, one people kept to pay a few bills until they became successful in their real lives.
Zoey’s real life, however, was...complicated, meaning she’d taken a few wrong turns on the road to success. She wanted a career where she could help people, but, to be honest, many people no longer wanted her help—specifically, those she’d encountered in the health-care and teaching professions, the food-service and travel industries and anyone who ran a children’s summer camp. People loved her, at least in the beginning. She was described as sincere, enthusiastic and full of great ideas. She’d also been called impulsive, but Zoey considered herself proactive. She took charge and made things happen.
Unfortunately, some of those proactive things had been mistakes. Huge mistakes. Expensive mistakes. Her intentions had been good, but the execution was flawed, as they say.
But she was always a big girl about it. When she messed up, she accepted responsibility, apologized, tried to fix whatever she’d gotten wrong and paid for any damage, even when she couldn’t afford it. Did she learn from her mistakes? Sure. Did she get a chance to prove it to those she’d wronged? No.
She understood why people were reluctant to give her a second chance. Money couldn’t fix everything and some opportunities were lost forever.
However, recommending a competitor’s product because Loring’s cream caused a rash had not been a mistake...even though going off script had landed her on the night and weekend shift in the shipping center to prevent her from talking to actual customers. And it had cost her a boyfriend, who hadn’t liked the fact that she worked every night. But even that hadn’t been a mistake.
Management had meant the suspension as a punishment, but Zoey had become inspired while filling thousands of orders during the Christmas season. She happened to know a thing or two about skin care. For years, she’d mixed her own organic moisturizers and soaps. The complaints she’d fielded in the customer-service call center had shown her that the world needed her products. That’s how she could help people—by offering them a better alternative. Nobody would get a rash from her creams and lotions, unlike the cheap chemical cocktail Loring put out.
Not that the Loring Quality Control Department had appreciated her input. Well, they’d had their chance. They’d pay attention to her when she started selling her Skin Garden products online, and word of mouth created a huge demand. In fact, she was going to go home right now and mix up a new batch of lemon–olive oil balm.
Never mind that it was Friday night, party night. Zoey didn’t have anyone special to party with, anyway. And honestly? She wasn’t all that torn up about it. She hadn’t had a date since Justin—wait, Jared...or was it Josh? Whoever it had been didn’t matter. All her ex-boyfriends had been fixer-uppers who she’d tried to fix—er, help. Ultimately, they hadn’t wanted her help, either.
So no more wasting her life on time-consuming, energy-zapping relationships. No more distracting boyfriends. From now on, it was going to be all about Zoey.
The whole weekend stretched ahead of her. Zoey hung up her headpiece, slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door. Now that it was January, Loring no longer offered twenty-four-hour live customer service, as though people magically stopped having problems on nights and weekends. Zoey vowed that Skin Garden would offer full-time customer service, even if she had to answer the phone herself.
Speaking of... The phone warbled again and guilted Zoey into stopping. A person who called after hours—and seven minutes after five counted as after hours—would have to wait until Monday morning to talk to an actual customer-service agent about whatever issue they were having with whichever one of the thousands of products Loring Industries manufactured for their dozens of brands.
Someone probably had a rash.
Zoey could see the blinking light at her station out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t as though she was abandoning someone in their hour of need. The customer could talk to a company rep through a live chat on their computer. Unless she was a “legacy customer,” Loring’s term for those who didn’t use computers. Zoey swallowed. What if the caller was some poor, elderly widow with a bad rash who could barely read the contact number on the label because her eyes were swelling shut? She wouldn’t have a computer, and even if she did, she certainly wouldn’t know how to do a live chat. Besides, the live part was likely another computer, anyway, at least for the first few levels....
Damn her work ethic, anyway. Zoey hurried back to her station and snatched up her earpiece.
“Loring Industries. How may I help you today?” Technically, the extent of Zoey’s help was routing the call to someone else who could do the actual helping, registering complaints or sending out coupons. Lots and lots of coupons. She was very generous with coupons. She was the coupon fairy.
“Zoey Archer, please.”
It was so unusual to hear herself asked for by name that it took Zoey a few beats to recognize her sister’s voice. “Kate? Is that you?” No wonder the call hadn’t rolled over. Her sister had dialed Zoey’s extension.
“Oh, Zoey. Thank goodness!” Kate exhaled in relief. “I tried calling your cell, but you didn’t answer.”
That’s because Zoey kept her phone on vibrate and hadn’t checked it yet today. Call-center operators weren’t allowed to make personal calls while at their station. Only during breaks. Or emergencies. Kate knew that.
Which meant... A sick feeling settled in Zoey’s stomach. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong...”
Alarmed, Zoey had been smashing the earpiece into her head. Taking a calming breath she adjusted the rest of the headset as Kate continued, “It’s just...”
Clearly Zoey was going to have to coax it out of her. “Just what?”
“Alexandra of Thebes has gone into heat.”
These were not words Zoey had expected to hear at her customer-service call station at Loring Industries. And Zoey had heard lots of strange words in the Loring Industries customer-service call center. “Uh...okay.”
“Ryan and I are in Costa Rica! Remember, Zoey?”
“Right—the wedding is this weekend.” Friends of Kate’s were having a fancy destination extravaganza. Kate and her husband, Ryan, had introduced the couple and both were in the wedding party. “Are you having a good time?”
“Zoey.” Her sister sighed and there was a whooshing sound as she partially covered the mouthpiece. “I told you this was a bad idea,” she said to someone in the background.
“I heard that.” Zoey steeled herself against the automatic guilt that flooded her every time she heard her name spoken in that tone of resigned disappointment accompanied by a faint sigh the speaker didn’t bother to hide.
Some people were late bloomers, and others bloomed early and withered fast, she reminded herself. Except Kate. Kate had bloomed early and perfectly and showed no signs of withering. “Kate, so far all you’ve told me is that one of your dogs is in heat and you two are in Costa Rica. I haven’t heard an idea yet.”
“Zoey! You know Alexandra’s not our dog.”
Actually, she didn’t. “You have a bunch of dogs. I don’t remember all their names.” Her sister and brother-in-law owned a kennel and bred dogs. Big, hairy ones.
“We’re talking about Alexandra of Thebes.”
“I—”
“The Alexandra of Thebes.”
It was clear that she should be impressed by the name, but show dogs weren’t Zoey’s thing—that would be her sister and Ryan’s thing. “I don’t really keep up with the dog world,” she said carefully. Not since she’d temporarily lived with Kate and Ryan and had tried helping at the kennel. It hadn’t gone well.
“Obviously not, or you would know she’s not only won every breed title for the past two years, she’s also been named Best in Show at every national competition worth winning—”
“Okay! I get it. Is she one of those big hairy white dogs like Casper?” Kate and Ryan had been talking about Casper for the past year and a half. Their lives revolved around the dog. Zoey couldn’t avoid hearing about Casper and his shows and his ribbons and his trophies and his diet and his hair-grooming routines even if she tried. And she had tried. Oh, how she’d tried. Kate spent more time grooming that neurotic dog than she did herself.
“An Afghan hound, yes,” her sister confirmed. “But not all Afghans are white.”
Kate wouldn’t have called her at work unless she needed something. And she wouldn’t have called Zoey unless she was desperate.
“Alexandra’s puppies will be very valuable, even more valuable if the sire is also a Grand Champion. It’s been our dream to get one of her puppies, but we never imagined Martha—she’s Alexandra’s owner—would invite Casper to breed with her!”
Misplaced pronouns gave Zoey a highly inappropriate visual. “Uh...congratulations.”
“It’s an unbelievable honor. Especially since Casper isn’t a Grand Champion. At least not yet. He needs a lot more points.” Kate sounded as though she was hyperventilating. “The Moorefield show isn’t until the week after next. Martha must think Casper’s chances are really good—at least Best in Breed, if not Best in Show! Alexandra has always been his main competition, but Martha pulled her out of the show because she thought she’d be in heat then and she wants to breed her. Only it seems she’s early.”
“It’s happened to all of us at one time or another,” Zoey murmured.
Her comment went right over Kate’s head. “Oh, my gosh, we’ve never had a Best in Show!”
In the background, Zoey heard Ryan telling Kate to calm down. Her older sister had always been tightly wound.
While Kate breathlessly babbled on about possible fame and fortune, the massive LED clock over the doorway helpfully flashed the passing seconds. The overhead fans slowed and automatic timers clicked half the lights off in preparation for the weekend. Zoey was alone in a huge room with empty cubicles and no windows. She couldn’t even see if it was raining or not. But she did know Kate wanted a favor and that she was stalling.
