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It Should Happen To You
Kathleen O'Reilly
Mickey Coleman has a whiz-kid IQ, a stellar job in astronomy and ambition to boot. So how can she slip up? When a sexy one-night fling results in a homemade videotape, Mickey is feeling a new kind of heat…she's being blackmailed! And there's no one to turn to for help. Unless you count Dominic Colucci, a coffee-swilling gangster she hires to steal the tape, who's definitely got her pulse racing!Dominic Colucci can't figure out how flashy "Foxy Smith" could weasel into his life so fast. All he knows is that's not her real name. But Dominic has his own secret identity to worry about and can't afford to get involved with the sexy siren. So why isn't he ignoring the stars in Foxy's eyes…or the promise in her kiss? Well, 'cause it has happened for them!
“You like your astronomy,” Dominic observed
Mickey took a step away from him. She’d been so close that his breathing had his chest brushing against her back.
“It keeps things in perspective.”
“Something like the ‘you’re just a grain of sand on the beach of humanity’ theory?”
“No,” she replied. “There are constants and there are subtle shifts that are always evolving. The universe expands, time slows or increases, but it doesn’t matter. The rotation about the sun, the orbit of the moon—those don’t change. It’s a great fusion of dynamic and static forces all working together in concert.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he was willing to listen to her voice forever. Their discussion didn’t involve drugs or penny-ante larceny, or even who was winning at the races. Her words were the closest thing to a normal conversation he’d had in two years of undercover work, and he realized how much he missed it. “A philosopher as well as an astronomer,” he murmured.
“That’s not philosophy—that’s physics.”
“Who are you?” he asked, no longer able to continue with the game they were playing.
“Are you really sure you want to know?” She raised her brows as she asked.
And he was a goner.
Dear Reader,
Okay, if you’re a geek please raise your hand. Yes, I was a geek, too. It wasn’t fun, mostly awkward and painful. However, all awkward and painful things must come to an end, and eventually I realized how lucky I was to be blessed with geekiness. As such, Mickey holds a special place in my heart because she’s the heroine of THE BACHELORETTE PACT whose character is closest to my own. When I was creating the story, I knew I wanted to give her a special hero—a man living in a different world, but who was as isolated as she was in hers. And so Dominic flashed to mind, and instantly I was in love.
Next month is Beth’s story, and do I ever have a surprise in store for you! But I won’t spoil it…you’ll just have to read to find out.
I love hearing from my readers. Please let me know what you think. Visit my Web site at www.kathleenoreilly.com or drop me a line at P.O. Box 312, Nyack, NY 10960.
Kathleen O’Reilly
Books by Kathleen O’Reilly
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
889—JUST KISS ME
927—ONCE UPON A MATTRESS
* (#litres_trial_promo)967—PILLOW TALK
HARLEQUIN DUETS
66—A CHRISTMAS CAROL
It Should Happen to You
Kathleen O'Reilly
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u249f8920-adfe-57b5-b45b-f8cbf1c33191)
Chapter 2 (#u29884d5e-557d-5e7c-bf4f-b532df822e18)
Chapter 3 (#u0f43d40f-63cc-596d-9da9-8c1eaa96ae8b)
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)
1
BY ALL RIGHTS, it should have been a glorious day in Chicago. After all, it’s not every day your best friend gets married. It’s not every day that your maid of honor dress actually looks good and—as an even bigger bonus—fits you well enough that you might actually want to wear it again. Mickey Coleman forced a smile.
It’s not every day that you’re videotaped having sex.
She allowed herself one quick shudder. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. And that from a woman who was decidedly not religious.
She looked across the church’s small dressing room where Jessica, in blissful ignorance, was adjusting her veil. Jessica, who’d never been videotaped having sex in her entire life.
Mickey spent all of two minutes debating whether to dump on her best friend on her wedding day. Eventually, guilt prevailed and she realized that not even Mickey the Idiot was that stupid.
“Anything wrong?” Beth asked, coming up beside her. “You look a little pale.” Beth, sweet, innocent Beth, blinked her huge baby blues.
Mickey pulled off her glasses and wiped the lenses, as if that was the problem. “It’s the dress. The color is a little off for me.”
“I think it looks great on you.”
Mickey’s mouth twisted into a pale imitation of a smile. “Yeah, I do, too.”
This stupid dress was more than half of the problem. They had Jessica’s bachelorette party right after the last fitting. Oh, Mickey, you should wear it out. You look fab!
Mickey didn’t wear dresses that showed more than the requisite one-third of her breasts. And she didn’t normally drink more than four beers in one night. And she didn’t normally have one-night stands with horny college interns who threaten blackmail.
The panic attack started all over again.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Beth asked.
“I think I just need to sit down.” Mickey managed to choke the words out, and then collapsed onto a nearby folding chair.
“Want some water?”
“Yeah, that’ll help. Thanks.”
Beth came back with a paper cup and handed it over. “I know this has been hard for you.”
Mickey stared in confusion. How did she know? “What?”
Beth tilted her head in Jessica’s direction. “Jessica. Adam. The wedding. You know, you’re not losing a best friend. You’re gaining a whole new conduit to eligible bachelors.”
The sad thing was, Beth was completely serious. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Mickey said, completely honest.
“I know we kinda made this bachelorette pact promise, but we were kidding, right?” Beth blinked hopefully.
The Bachelorette Pact. Almost twelve months ago the four college friends had made a promise to revel in their single status. Free of men, free to do whatever they wanted. Oh, yeah, paradise. Right now the free-of-men part sounded great, because today her priorities were getting the tape, of a night she didn’t even remember—much. Then she could concentrate on the galaxy density differentiation presentation for Dr. Heidelman. Her ticket to fame and fortune in the scientific community. Well, not really fortune, but definitely fame among the Astrophysical Journal set. And maybe even respect in the eyes of one Dr. Andrew Coleman, MD, the man otherwise known as Dad. If Dad ever heard about that tape, or anyone at Astrophysical Sciences Research Center for that matter, she’d be pretty much astrophysical toast.
The day after the Bachelorette Party, John Monihan had approached her with vague references about their evening before. Apparently he was one of those video aficionados, just her luck. Now he had the tape of their night, and he wanted payback. Actually, he merely wanted more sex, which was very frustrating, because Mickey just didn’t remember it being that great.
Beth pulled up a chair next to her. “You know, we can do stuff together, too. I mean, if you want to.”
This time Mickey’s smile was legit. Beth, at her most earnest, couldn’t be denied. “Sure, Beth. Maybe we can go out after the reception.”
“Brick’s for a beer?”
Beer? Not in a million years. Still, there were always the uncharted waters of new territories, like, say, martinis. “Sure.”
The music cranked up from the chapel, and the wedding planner rushed them out into the foyer. Mickey walked over to where Jessica was standing in front of the mirror, twisting around to see her back. When Jessica spied her, she gave Mickey one last hug.
“Break a leg,” Mickey whispered.
“You’ll be next,” was all Jessica had to say.
Oh yeah, right. Slimeball antimatter was definitely prime husband material. Mickey held her tongue.
The ceremony was beautiful, she had to say that. White lilies, classical music and barely controlled tears that hung stubbornly at the corners of her eyes. When Adam kissed Jessica, Mickey nearly lost it.
Jessica smiled at her from under her veil, a tremulous smile completely ruined by the steely glint in her eyes that said, “You’re catching the bouquet.” That was Jessica. Always the woman in denial.
The exit music started, true love conquering all, a journey to a new life, yada, yada, yada.
Mickey sighed, grabbed the arm of the best man and followed the happy couple down the aisle and out the door. The best man smiled at her, a harmless, unpretentious smile, and Mickey just nodded curtly.
He was one of the enemy. He was a man, and right now she had little patience for human beings with an extra appendage. She’d been shot down by those flyboys one too many times.
“I bet you have a video camera,” she whispered under her breath, a reminder that harmless, unpretentious smiles could hide the nefarious heart of a debauchee.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said. “It’s in the car. Should I bring it in?”
Mickey didn’t answer, just gave him the patented Coleman growl, guaranteed to intimidate any man, woman or Department of Energy inspector. So was this a testosterone-laden man or merely an invertebrate munchkin? The age-old question reared its head.
He shot her one frightened look and that was the end of the conversation.
Mickey buffed her nails on the shoulder of the polished-silk dress. The man was nothing more than Milquetoast in a tux.
WHILE CASSANDRA DECORATED the getaway car with all sorts of suggestions and advice for every newly wedded couple, Mickey supervised. Eventually the wedding party—sans bride and groom, who were probably off doing the rumpy-pumpy—had managed to completely eliminate any possibility of driver-side visibility.
All in all, it was great bawdy fun.
But all good things must come to an end. The reception was winding down, the sun was starting to set, and finally the happy couple appeared, a telltale flush in Jessica’s cheeks. Sex had definitely been involved. Jess threw the bouquet at Mickey, who dodged and bobbed. In accordance with Murphy’s laws on weddings and other damned affairs, the thing hit her smack on the chest.
Using lightning-fast reflexes, which she’d never before possessed, she tossed it off to Beth.
Eventually Jessica’s Porsche pulled away from the curb. Mickey waved goodbye, wiping away her tears before anyone noticed. Her best friend was married. So why couldn’t she be happier for her?
It wasn’t as if she wished divorce or death on Adam; she just wished that things wouldn’t change. But already she’d noticed the little differences. Jessica tried hard, but she was becoming a clock-watcher when they went out. And worse, only once had she participated in Cassandra’s favorite sport, the ten-thousand meter, manly-man ogle. To top it off, she compared the subject in question to Adam—favoring Adam, of course.
It was all depressing.
In order to dispel some of her depression, and forget the whole tape-sex-blackmail-I-have-shot-my-career-to-hell debacle, she met up with Beth and Cassandra at Brick’s that evening.
Saturday nights were always packed, full of males and females on the make. Mickey traded in breast cleavage and heels for her favorite blue jeans and Polymorph T-shirt. Much safer.
Cassandra, spiffily attired in a fire-engine red sheath that revealed every single one of her Pilates-honed curves, shook her head. “Cinderella’s regressed back to rags.”
“Yeah, fairy tale’s over. Reality bites.”
Sometimes it was rough having an overabundance of brains and an underabundance of whatever it was that guys liked, she thought to herself. Everywhere she looked, the male eyes in the bar were glued to Cassandra’s parts.
A short time later two men in suits came over and began chatting with Cassandra and Beth, and Mickey wondered cynically who wore a suit on Saturday. Beth eventually broke free of the lesser suit and joined Mickey in the girls-gone-solo club, ordering chips and salsa for them both.
Beth fished in the basket for the biggest chip and wistfully studied it, shifting the golden triangle in the light. “It’s three points, but I’ve been starving myself all week. Tonight’s a celebration.”
“Oh, boy,” replied Mickey glumly, punching her chip in the picante. “Why’d you leave the potential life mate?”
“Too much cologne.”
