Loving You Is Easy Read online

  Loving You Is Easy is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Loveswept eBook Original

  Copyright © 2014 by Wendy S. Marcus

  Excerpt from Dangerous by Patricia Rosemoor copyright © 2014 by Patricia Rosemoor

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Dangerous by Patricia Rosemoor. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

  eBook ISBN 9780553391237

  Cover design: Regina Wamba

  Cover photograph: evren_photos/Bigstock

  www.readloveswept.com

  v4.0

  ep

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Preface

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Editor’s Corner

  Excerpt from Dangerous

  November 4, 2011

  Dear Sergeant Develen,

  My name is Brooke Ellstein. I’m a seventh and eighth grade math teacher responsible for coordinating NYS Governor Howard’s Support Our Troops Initiative that matches active-duty members of the military, serving overseas, with school classrooms across New York State. (In case you’re wondering how my involvement came about, my father is currently the New York State comptroller, and he works closely with the governor.)

  Thank you for agreeing to participate, and congratulations on making the list of prospective pen pals. All the servicemen and -women were personally vetted by their commanding officers and determined to be exemplary soldiers of high moral character.

  Unfortunately, it now falls to me to inform you we’ve wound up with several soldiers, such as yourself, who are not now nor have ever been residents of/or stationed in New York State, yet were included on our list in error. For that I apologize.

  To make amends, I’m contacting all of the soldiers with out-of-state bios to offer an alternative. You see, my friends and I are happy to serve as pen pals in place of the students. If you’re interested, I paired you up with me. I’ve enclosed a picture of myself so you know who you’d be exchanging letters with. (It doesn’t seem fair for me to have your picture and you not to have mine.)

  If it matters, I’m twenty-four years old, single, and I enjoy running, hiking, and bike riding.

  If you’d like to be my pen pal, and I really hope you do, please write me back at the PO box provided on the envelope. I look forward to hearing from you. But no pressure—I understand if you’d rather not. Again, I apologize for any inconvenience or disappointment the mix-up has caused.

  Sincerely,

  Brooke Ellstein

  November 18, 2011

  Dear Brooke,

  Sure. I’m all for having a pretty pen pal from back home. As long as you know—and I can’t think of a nice way to put this so I’m just going to write it—I am not in the market for a girlfriend, long distance or when I come home. I realize saying that in my first letter makes me sound like a jerk. I mean, who do I think I am? But I’m being honest and putting it out there so you know where I stand from the start. I’m here to do a job and I need to focus on that job completely.

  On the off chance you haven’t balled up my letter and tossed it into the trash, and I hope you didn’t, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. (Not sure what’s in the bio you have.)

  I’m twenty-five years old. I went into the army right after high school. I grew up in New Jersey; my family still lives there. When I’m not deployed overseas, I’m stationed at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. I’m currently a little over one month into a twelve-month deployment to Afghanistan. This is my fourth time over here.

  I enjoy running and hiking, too. (Although not with a full ruck.) I can’t remember the last time I was on a bicycle.

  If I haven’t completely offended you and you still want to be my pen pal, do me a favor and include your e-mail address in your next letter. Internet is spotty, but some days it’s easier to type out an e-mail than sit and write.

  Looking forward to your next letter if you choose to send one,

  Shane

  JULY 20, 2012

  Prologue

  The day had finally come. After eight months of letters, e-mails, and Skype sessions, today sweet, thoughtful, wonderful Shane Develen would be returning home from Afghanistan for a five-day leave. Finally Brooke would get to meet him in person for the very first time. If there weren’t so many people she may very well have skipped toward her destination.

  No, probably not.

  “Excuse me.” She squeezed around a large, not-so-nice-smelling man to get a better view of the crowded arrivals area at Newark Liberty International Airport.

  Over the years she’d watched hours and hours of YouTube videos of soldiers returning home from war to ecstatic families, wives, children, girlfriends, and fiancées. Soldiers meeting their babies for the first time, or—her personal favorites—soldiers dropping down to one knee and proposing to their special someone right off the airplane or ship.

  Via the computer she’d witnessed hundreds of heartfelt, loving, tearful yet joyous reunions. Today it was her turn to experience one for real, although hers would be more of a “Welcome Home” introduction than reunion. Excited energy fluttered around her belly like a family of hungry hummingbirds. Brooke wanted to smile big, bounce on her toes, and scream, “What’s taking so long?”

  Instead she wrapped her arms across her midsection as tight as she could and called on every ounce of restraint in her possession to remain calm and poised, because that’s what Ellsteins did, at least in public.

  A person in her general vicinity had recently smoked a cigar. Another had forgotten his or her deodorant. A third had on way too much cologne, yet it failed to effectively mask the other odors. Breathing had become an adventure. From which pocket of air would her next breath come? Oh! Apparently someone had eaten tacos for dinner.

  Bodies stood too close, probably defiling the scent of her perfumed lotion. Luckily she’d chosen wisely with a soft cotton maxi dress that wouldn’t wrinkle. Strangers bumped and pushed and stepped on her new white strappy flats and freshly pedicured toes. But when a sticky red lollipop made contact with the arm of her white cashmere sweater, Brooke moved to find a new waiting spot in a less populated area.

  When she was a bit farther away than she’d wanted to be, but in a quieter area with a clear view, her thoughts turned back to Shane. Would he be happy to see her? She bit her lip for the hundredth ti
me, wondering if maybe surprising him wasn’t the best idea.

  Would he hug her or kiss her? Sure, Shane had made his stance on not wanting a girlfriend quite clear. But they’d shared a lot of very personal things with each other, over the past few months especially. They’d grown close—much closer than casual friends, at least from her perspective. Hoping he felt the same way, she popped another breath mint into her mouth, ready, just in case.

  As the minty freshness hit her taste buds, worry pushed images of their first kiss aside. What if their meeting turned out to be an awkward handshake followed by stilted conversation and forced smiles while they each searched for an excuse to remove themselves from the other’s company?

  No. They were too compatible, too much alike. And as the daughter of a politician with an eye on the governor’s mansion and possibly the White House, Brooke could make polite conversation with a palm tree if necessary. So kiss or no kiss, hug or no hug, their meeting would not be awkward. She wouldn’t let it be.

  She paused from scanning the arriving passengers long enough to check the time on her phone. His plane had landed eleven minutes ago. How long did it take to get from the gate to baggage claim? Had she missed him? She rose up on her toes, looked all around, stopping still at the sight of army green camouflage uniforms in the distance. Her heart started to race, her chest tightening to the point it became difficult to inhale a deep breath.

  Clutching her purse, she moved to get a better look. As the soldiers came closer she counted six men and two women, all weighted down with backpacks. Three looked very much alike with broad shoulders and shaved heads, darkish hair thicker on top. Brooke studied them, trying to pick out Shane.

  People started to applaud and shout “Welcome home,” and “Thank you for your service.” Americans honoring their heroes. Pride mixed with relief squeezed her heart. He’d made it home. Tears threatened. Brooke inhaled a deep breath and willed them away.

  Still too far away for her to pick out Shane, the soldiers veered toward a large and boisterous group waving handmade posters and holding red, white, and blue balloons. Brooke walked in that direction, skirting around a couple blocking her path, tripping on a baby stroller and muttering “Sorry,” too focused on where she wanted to be to pay close attention to obstacles along the route.

  One man separated from the rest, a tall, muscular man with a handsome face very similar to the one that visited her in her dreams.

  Brooke stopped and called out, “Shane!” Lifting her arm high over her head and waving, she tried to get his attention while forcing her legs to remain still. She wouldn’t run to him, or hug him, or show him any affection unless he gave her some indication he wanted it. They were only friends, after all. Nothing more. At least not yet.

  He stopped, their eyes met, and his expression lit up with the biggest, happiest, most perfect smile she could have imagined.

  Thank goodness. Surprising him at the airport had not been a mistake after all.

  “Hey.” He turned in her direction, still smiling. “What are you doing here?”

  So big and handsome. He carried himself with confidence and a physical strength she found most appealing. She started toward him, controlling her pace, trying not to appear overeager. “Welcoming you home.” Because his mom had recently undergone a medical procedure of some sort, and he didn’t want to bother the family to come pick him up. Because every soldier deserved a warm welcome home. And because she’d desperately wanted to meet him in person, to see for herself that he’d returned safely and unharmed. She met his smile with one of her own. “Maybe I should have brought a sign and some balloons to spell it out for you.”

  He came to a stop right in front of her, so tall she had to tilt her head back to see his beautiful blue eyes staring down at her.

  “Maybe you should have jumped into my arms and greeted me with a big hug and a kiss. Then there’d be no doubt.”

  Oh no. Brooke shook her head. “I think you have me confused with a girlfriend. You see when a girlfriend greets her boyfriend it’s perfectly acceptable for her to run out and launch herself into his arms. Whereas a female friend tends to hang back so her actions won’t be in any way misconstrued.”

  “You and your big words.” He smiled again. “To be honest, I’m pretty sure when welcoming a guy home from war it’s perfectly acceptable for a female friend to lay a big, wet kiss on his lips. It’s a special circumstance.”

  “Really?” she teased, enjoying their banter, so happy to finally meet him for real. “Funny, I haven’t heard of that.”

  “So the guy knows how happy the girl is to see him home safe and sound.” He removed his backpack and set it at his feet. “I mean, how else am I supposed to know, seeing as how you neglected to bring a poster or balloons?” He cupped her head with both hands, threading his fingers into the hair behind her ears while he studied her face, his gaze dropping to her lips. “I’m not gonna lie, I have been dreaming about kissing you for months.”

  Gulp. This was it! But she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “You dream about kissing all your female friends?”

  He shook his head. “Never. Even so, after traveling over sixty hours to get here, the only thing I want more than a shower and a bed is you.”

  She could easily love this man if he’d let her. “Then what are you waiting for?” Brooke rose up on her toes, clasped her fingers behind his neck, and lifted her chin.

  He dipped his head, moving his hands to her low back, pulling her close. “You’re even prettier in person,” he said a fraction of a second before his lips met hers. Soft and warm. Gentle.

  One large hand slid up under her sweater to her bare back, the other slid lower, almost to her butt, both holding her tightly, pressing her against him from chest to thighs. “You’re so soft.” He kissed her again, harder. “Feel so good, smell so good.” His tongue pressed for entry and she let him in, reveled in the delectable taste of him combined with the specialness of this moment. But as his kiss grew more passionate, the politician’s daughter in her remained cognizant of the fact they were in a public place acting most inappropriately.

  She turned her head to the side, breaking contact. “We can’t.” As she’d suspected a bunch of travelers had stopped to watch them.

  “I’m sorry.” Yet he didn’t take his hands off of her. “I guess I got a little carried away.”

  “Maybe we should stop hugging now.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Neither did she. But, “For sure we’ve exceeded the acceptable limit of time allotted for friend hugging. Wouldn’t want to stray into the girlfriend-boyfriend zone, now would we?”

  Apparently not because no sooner had the words left her mouth he dropped his arms and stepped back. “You’re not going to give me a break on that, are you?”

  “Nope.” Not until he admitted his feelings for her and agreed not to see other women. He fought for their country; Brooke would fight for him. She already considered him her boyfriend and had stopped allowing her mother to set her up on dates, politically motivated or otherwise. She wanted Shane—wanted to explore where a relationship between them might lead.

  “Come on.” He picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “I need to get my duffel.” He held out his hand, palm up, his eyebrows raised in question. “Can friends hold hands?”

  They probably shouldn’t, but, “Sure. Since today’s a special circumstance.”

  He smiled, took her hand into his, and they walked to baggage claim. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the evening?” he asked casually.

  “I was thinking maybe we could get some dinner, if you’re hungry.”

  “Sounds good. Wait here.” He pushed through the throng of people and hoisted a large green duffel off of the conveyor belt like it was a down pillow with handles. When he got back he asked, “Would you mind if we made it takeout in my hotel room?”

  “I thought you were heading home tonight.”

  He shook his head. “Nah. I kn
ew I’d be beat after the trip and wanted a night to myself to decompress before taking on my family and friends. Stop looking at me like that. I had no idea you’d be here so you can’t accuse me of ulterior motives.”

  Okay, she’d give him that.

  “But let’s not let this opportunity go to waste.” He leaned in close. “Since I just happen to have a hotel room and you just happen to be here, what do you say we…?” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned suggestively.

  Oh no, no, no. Sex was not on her agenda for the evening. Some dinner, enjoyable conversation, maybe another kiss or two and she’d be making the hour drive north to her condo in New York. Her clothes would remain on, all of them, at all times. Even though she’d known him for months, technically, tonight was only their first date.

  Either he’d picked up on her “no sex” vibe or he’d been kidding around with her because he finished up with, “…hang out, just the two of us, watch a few movies, and talk to each other face-to-face in the same room for a change.” Which sounded wonderful, but in his hotel room? The two of them all alone? Was she strong enough to resist the pull of attraction that had her wanting things she shouldn’t? At least not yet. Because if they had sex when he thought of her only as a friend he’d have no need to make her a girlfriend, to make them exclusive, long-term.

  —

  In the quiet hotel elevator, Shane watched Brooke. So damn beautiful in a soft yet strong, sweet yet sexy, classy yet regular girl sort of way—so different from the brash blue-collar bad girls that frequented his favorite North Carolina and New Jersey hangouts.

  She was wealthy, smart, independent, and way too good for him by far.

  Had he not been chosen for her pen pal program, there was no chance their paths in life would have ever crossed. Yet here he was, so close he could reach out and touch her, so hard with need he had to brace his duffel against the bulge in his pants to keep from scaring her off.