Read Love Letters, Inc. for Free Online Page B

email address and leave it on the kitchen table?"
    "My email address?"
    "I'm going to email you my idea about Gardenia's letters. Then, between naps and other distractions, you can read it and let me know what you think by hitting reply. Good idea?"
    Kent thought it was a lousy idea, but neither he nor she had time to argue.

 
     
     
    Chapter 4

     
    Her email came at five o'clock that afternoon.
     
    Kent:
    Here's the plan. I still have Gardenia's post office box number. While there is no guarantee she's still using it, I suggest I send a letter there, telling her you've traced her to Cyrano and want the letters to stop immediately. I'll offer to return her money if she complies—and promise not to tear her hair out for lying to me (about you being her fiancé) in the first place. (That last bit is personal!) So, what do you think?
    My inbox awaits your reply.
    Rosie O'Hanlon
     
    Kent quickly scribbled a reply.
     
    Rosie:
    Sounds good. Go for it. I'll let you know if it works. In the meantime, I owe you three—count 'em—
    three meals. If Brace can go to business meetings, surely he can go out to dinner. Vin Santo's at seven sound okay?
    Kent
     
    P.S. I got another letter today. This makes number twelve and the second one this week. Gardenia, it seems, has decided to turn up the heat. You do have a way with words, O'Hanlon. I liked the bit about "lying naked in a storm of moonlight and music." Can I ask if this is something you've personally experienced?
     
    Rosie replied immediately. There was no reference to the content of her letters—or Kent's question.
     
    Kent:
    Brace and I thank you for the invitation, but Vin Santo's is out. I'll write Gardenia today. Let me know if the letters stop. If they don't, I'll go to plan B (if I can come up with one!)and email it to you.
    Rosie.
     
    Kent read the terse e-note, then continued to glare at it. So she wouldn't have dinner with him. Probably just as well. Rosie O'Hanlon wasn't his type anyway—all bright color and chaos. He could live without it.
    Without her.
    He walked to the window of his office, propped a shoulder against the frame, and looked out over the emerald green of the golf course. The dinner invitation was a courtesy. Nothing more. No need to see her again. Screw the eye contact—wireless would do. Much more efficient. He should be grateful O'Hanlon felt the same way. He scowled. So, why wasn't he? What he felt was rejected. And damn it, it hurt.
    He heard a rap on his opened door.
    "Kent, you busy?" Marlene asked. "Or are you still looking for Con?" She used her head to gesture toward the golf course view he'd been staring at, but not seeing, for the last few minutes. "If you are, you should know he just left for Hawaii."
    "Hawaii? What's he doing in Hawaii?"
    "I haven't a clue."
    There was the usual stab of frustration at Con's growing lack of responsibility, but this time no anger. Just weary acceptance. He'd managed the workload so far. He'd just carry on. What tattered remains of a personal life he'd once enjoyed had long since disintegrated. In that department he had nothing more to lose.
    A surge of regret swept through him, leaving in its wake a kaleidoscope image of red hair and a chorus line of wide smiles wearing Technicolor socks. Rosie was in there somewhere.
    "Oh, and your mother called." Marlene glanced at the message in her hand. "She said to remind you it's your turn and to call if you need her help for anything."
    The family barbecue. He'd almost forgotten. Of course there wasn't a chance in hell his mother would. It was a yearly event, and you missed it on risk of excommunication as he'd discovered last year. He'd had to leave on a business trip—and he was still hearing about it. No way out this year, because it was his year to host. Just what he needed. An AWOL partner, a madcap woman who'd managed to etch herself into his mind—and the damn barbecue.
    "There's more." Marlene said.
    "I'm sure there is." Kent sat in his chair and