Love in the City (The Complete Collection Boxed Set) Read online

  LOVE in the CITY

  The Complete Collection Boxed Set

  By Liv Morris

  Copyright © 2013 Liv Morris

  Digital Edition: November 2013

  Cover Photo Design: Jada D’Lee Designs

  Editing by: Dee Ward and Marla Esposito

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, 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.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from Author.

  Table of Contents

  Magic at Macy’s

  Perfect Strangers

  the panty dropper

  The Love Handles Club

  Drunk and Disorderly

  Magic at Macy’s

  by Liv Morris

  Ally’s Love at First Sight

  It was Thanksgiving Day and the first time I’d spent the holiday apart from my father, Joe. He had raised me single-handedly after my mother, Mary, left us when I was twelve years old. We had shared something in common since the day we found her farewell note sitting on the kitchen table—broken hearts, which never fully mended from the rejection she left behind. He was a betrayed husband and I was an abandoned child.

  Our collective pain could have pulled us apart, but miraculously it seemed to bring us together and solidify us as a family. We had each other to lean on, and we leaned on one another hard, especially during the holidays. So I worried about him being alone today. However, my father reassured me that he was fine this morning when I called, but I knew better as I heard the flat tone and sadness in his voice. He missed me and I missed him terribly too. Over the last couple of months, I had tried to convince myself that attending Yale was worth our separation, but today it just didn’t work.

  I had thought about flying back home to be with him, but a ticket to Nowhere City, Arkansas, was outrageously expensive and my funds were tight. I barely had enough money saved up to fly home for the fast approaching winter break, so I settled on a lovely, but rather stuffy, holiday meal with some gracious Yale faculty members who lived close to campus. I hoped it would be better than hanging out all alone in my dorm room.

  Though my dinner hosts were kind enough to invite me to join their family celebration, I quickly learned that I had nothing in common with my kind benefactors as we chatted and dipped our turkey into the smooth gravy.

  They appeared to be from families who ate their breakfast cereal from silver spoons. My dad and I had about ten spoons to our name. All of them had different patterns on the handle and were bought at the local thrift store. We may not have possessed a lot, but it always felt like we had what we needed. Somehow, my hardworking father made that a possibility.

  Not too long after our meal was finished and all the dishes were cleared, I thanked my hosts for a lovely dinner and quickly scooted toward the door. They sent a couple pieces of pumpkin pie home with me, but I could feel a sense of relief from them when I left. I guess my fake smiles were not that convincing after all. That’s probably why drama was my toughest class in high school. I’d never been able to be anything but myself. Whoever made up that lame motto, Fake it till you make it, was a complete idiot, at least where I’m concerned.

  When I made it back to my dorm, I quickly waved my hand to acknowledge the lone security guard sitting behind the glass entrance and walked through the deserted halls. All the soundless air was unnerving. Even though we studied nonstop, the word “quiet” was something only found in the five-inch dictionary on my desk.

  Closing and locking the door to my room, I let out a long, slow breath, feeling safe within my little haven. But now I had nothing to do but stare at the stark white walls, so I decided to go to bed early. I wasn’t sure how I’d fall asleep without the usual bustle of activity, or the slamming of doors echoing down the hallway, but finally I nodded off… most likely due to having just finished off both pieces of my host’s delicious pie.

  The next morning I awoke around eight o’clock. I tried to go back to sleep, but after thirty minutes of hiding away under my warm down comforter, I finally put my feet on the cold dorm floor. I walked to the window and saw that the sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky. It was so bright I had to squint my eyes as I looked around. It appeared deceivingly warm out until I glanced down at the sidewalk and saw people passing by all bundled up in warm jackets and wrapped up in wool scarves.

  Making my way to the shower, I wondered how I should spend my day. Many of the kids on my floor would return tomorrow, so this was my last free day all to myself. Since there was nothing much to do in New Haven and I’d visited all the important sites around the campus, I thought I might try to do something more adventurous.

  A few weeks ago, my roommate, Sarah, had persuaded me to take the Metro North train with her into New York City and see a Saturday matinee show on Broadway. It was my first trip into the city and I fell in love with the energy there. People scurried about the sidewalks with determined looks on their faces. The street was lined with vendors selling everything from scarves to hotdogs. I remember Sarah telling me how spectacular the city was around Thanksgiving when all the stores unveiled their holiday-decorated windows.

  “Ally, it’s magical here during the holidays. I’ve got to bring you back to see it. Somehow we’ll make it happen,” she’d said.

  She mentioned how the whole city seemed to adorn itself for Christmas. I’d always been a sucker for anything that had to do with the holidays, and who hasn’t dreamed of gazing into the Macy’s Christmas windows, so I decided to escape the deserted halls around me and head to New York City for the day.

  I quickly googled “holiday windows in New York” and the Metro North train schedule into Grand Central. There was a walking tour that started at Bloomingdale’s, so I would just buck up a few extra dollars and take a cab there from Grand Central and walk the rest of the way with my trek ending at Macy’s. The website said that the stroll by the six store windows would take under two hours. I knew that I would be stopping to shop and sightsee along the way, so it would take me most of the afternoon and into the early evening. But since the last train back to New Haven left at nearly one a.m., I had plenty of time to see all the sights.

  Looking at my alarm clock, I realized that I had little under an hour to get to the train, and once I was on board I would be in the heart of Manhattan in ninety minutes, so in a little over two hours I’d be walking the tunnels of Grand Central Station.

  Starting the day with frozen hair was not a good idea, so I hurriedly dried my locks and formed them into loose curls around my shoulders. I found my new down jacket and suede winter boots that were hiding under my bunk. I pulled them over my wool socks and hoped they’d work together to keep my toes warm. I wrapped my favorite scarf around my neck and dug my gloves out of my pockets.

  Now all bundled for the day, I made my way to New Haven’s Union Station via the free shuttle from the Green by Yale’s campus. I grabbed a donut and a latte at the station’s coffee shop. Now that I was getting caffeinated and feeling more awake, the excitement of my little adventure was starting to set in.

  After purchasing my roundtrip ticket, I headed toward the platform. Keeping my head down, I walked out the glass doors and braved the cold wind. The train would pull up at the stop any minute. I could feel the anticipation building and for some reason, I didn’t even mind going by myself. I was a little surprised that I wasn’t anxious about heading into the city alone. It was
n’t like I was a seasoned New Yorker, but I’d be able to linger and shop as I pleased. If I wanted to drool on the glass cases at Tiffany’s for a couple of hours who was going to care? Other than the poor salespeople. Also, I’d be able to indulge in one of my favorite past times… people watching.

  Hearing the buzz of the train as it headed toward the platform, I turned my head and something, or I should say someone, caught my eye. A tall man was leaning against the soda machine across from me and dressed in a black wool topcoat that hit him about mid-thigh. The jeans he wore appeared to be lined in flannel because I could see the plaid material making up his cuff. His legs looked like they were jammed into his pants as they stretched tightly over his strong thighs.

  The New York Times he was holding in front of him hid most of his upper body, but I knew exactly who it was. I’d stared at and dreamed about him for weeks.

  The hot guy standing just a few feet away from me was none other than, Jack Prescott, Editor-in-Chief of the Yale Daily News, man about campus, and my new best friend, Chelsea’s, brother. Oh, and most importantly he was majorly out of my league, even if he did just break up with his goddess of a girlfriend, Marissa.

  He’d barely said a word to me since Chelsea introduced us. I was pretty sure he thought I was mute or just had a permanently paralyzed shocked face, because being in his presence left me completely speechless. I’d never been so attracted to anyone in my life and at the same time felt like I wanted to run and hide when I was around him. My behavior basically added up to crazy.

  Strangely, though, I’d noticed him gazing at me during the weekly board meetings we lowly freshman attended with the editors. Last week his stares were rather unnerving and a complete turn-on, leaving me squirming in my chair and at a loss of what was being said during the meeting. But I didn’t flatter myself in dreaming that his heated looks my way really meant anything. After all, he was perfect and I was far from it.

  My mind wandered back to the day I’d first met Jack. It was a couple of months ago during my first week at Yale.

  “Hey, Ally,” Chelsea had called to me as I entered the first-floor reporter’s room.

  I stopped dead in my tracks because the most beautiful boy, or more like man, was examining me from where he was leaning against my desk with his long, muscular legs stretched out in front of him. My sex-starved mind imagined pushing him back against my desk blotter and remedying my sorry, deprived state.

  “Ally, are you okay?” Chelsea had laughed as she tried to break me out of my trance. Just thinking back on that day was mortifying.

  “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just coming down from my morning caffeine fix. That’s all.” I hoped that I made sense, but I remember how he just stared at me.

  “This is my brother, Jack Prescott.” She smiled, as she turned to her hot as hell brother. “I’ve told her all about you, Jack.”

  Well, it was rather obvious that she’d forgotten a few things… like his chiseled jaw line, his sexed-up hair, and those dangerous baby blue eyes. I recall breaking my stare and looking over at Chelsea, pleading for her help. But I still couldn’t speak. Somehow, I’d earned a perfect score on the SAT, but place a devastatingly handsome piece of hot testosterone in front of me and my brain turns to complete mush.

  “Hi, Ally,” the gorgeous, blue-eyed god had said to me. “I hear from Chelsea that you’re going to be working as a general assignment’s reporter. Nice to meet you.”

  I remained dumbstruck after hearing him speak my name, but saw that he had extended his hand out to me. Somehow, I moved and placed a rather shaky hand in his, and as I did, I felt an odd warmth as we touched. My body moved forward seemingly without my help, as if on instinct. I think he felt it, too, because he looked down, puzzled, at our collective hands before he pulled away and ran his fingers through his glorious, bronze hair.

  And it was that same bronze hair that gave him away today. It peeked out from the top of the newspaper. I barely saw his eyebrows as they scrunched together in concentration. Panic set in as I realized that I was about to be discovered ogling Mr. Blue Eyes. I wanted to run and hide or throw myself in front of the train. My choices were few and I needed to make a decision quick.

  Thankfully, I saw a copy of the local newspaper lying discarded on the bench next to me. I reached for it and brought it up to cover my face. The train finally stopped and opened its doors. No one got off the train, but about twenty people entered as the platform lights blinked. I was careful to stay hidden from Jack as he moved to the back of the second car and faced away from the front of the train.

  Discreetly, I chose a seat several rows in back of him with my newspaper disguise still placed a few inches in front of my face. I wondered where he was going and why he hadn’t flown back home with Chelsea for the holidays. Perhaps his position at the News had kept him in town even though the staff had pre-planned editions. I guess there could always be breaking news to cover.

  Well, there was no denying that he was here with me right now on this train bound for the city. And what should have been a relaxing ride ended up being one that was rattling my nerves. I found myself constantly shifting around in my seat hoping to steal a glimpse of him without exposing myself. What if he did see me? Would I just stand there tongue-tied as usual? Most likely.

  Every time I saw him at the News building, I would turn the other way or duck into an empty office. He’d probably written me off as a complete lunatic and I seemed to transform into one when it came to him anyway. And now I’d become totally crazy about him. It was really rather sad as I couldn’t seem to get him off my mind and to see him on the train… well, I started feeling sick from all the butterflies in my stomach.

  Finally, the train pulled in and stopped at Grand Central Station. I decided to hide down in the seat with my paper as a mask and wait for him to exit first. After that, all bets were off. I had no idea what I would do next. But I knew that I couldn’t let him out of my sight. With all the people crowding the station, I was fairly certain that I could keep a reasonable distance from him and go unnoticed.

  Walking stealthily behind him, I realized that Jack had somehow turned me into a class-A stalker. Yes, it was totally his fault. I giggled quietly as I thought about visiting the mental health clinic on Monday, but until then I’d just use my time wisely and keep his beautiful backside in my view. I had absolutely no idea where he was going. He took several turns and walked through the tunnels down in the station.

  Finally, he made his way up a long ramp. There weren’t many people on the ramp and I worried that he might turn around and spot me behind him, but he just kept moving forward. I pulled my hair in front of my face to shield myself from his view in case he turned to look. If he saw me now, I’m pretty sure that he’d figure out that I was following him. Looking at it logically, just how did two people from New Haven end up being this close together in New York City without it being intentional?

  I briefly reconsidered what I was doing. Honestly, I knew that I should turn the other way, but who was I kidding? I couldn’t deny this pull I had to him, so my stalking continued unabated.

  As Jack entered the main terminal lobby, he stopped abruptly and tilted his head up toward the ceiling. I followed his actions and saw the twinkling display overhead. It was beautiful how all the lights moved together so perfectly, but I was afraid to stare too long and have him walk away. The crowds were starting to get thick around us, so I decided to move a little closer to him.

  He entered the 42nd Street-level access tunnel. I was relieved that we weren’t going to take the subway somewhere else. It would be so much harder to hide from him. They were way too open and full of windows. Now I just prayed that he wouldn’t be getting into a cab. That would bring my stalker capabilities to a definite halt. I held my breath as we moved to street level, but he put his head down and walked with a purpose toward Fifth Avenue. The sidewalks started to get crowded as we made our way to Fifth and turned left. The Thanksgiving parade tourists were still lingering t
hroughout the city, so we were literally packed in shoulder to shoulder.

  Block after block passed by as we hustled south. He slowed down for a bit as we approached Lord & Taylor’s department store. I thought he might cross the street and stop to peer into their windows, but instead he pulled his collar up and continued on, picking up his speed.

  My toes were starting to feel numb as we walked across 34th Street and turned right onto it. I suddenly realized where we might be heading.

  34th Street. Where Christmas miracles happen.

  Macy’s!

  We strolled down a long block, but as we approached the next street, I could see the trees lit up in Herald Square. I took a moment to look around and saw the tree designed of Christmas lights on the front of Macy’s stone facade. The whole area looked just as I’d imagined it would—cheery, bright and filled with people.

  I brought my eyes back down to street level and scanned around for Jack but didn’t see him. There wasn’t a head of bronze anywhere in sight. Picking up the pace I started looking around frantically for him as I worked my way to the Christmas windows. The crowds were packed tightly around them. I decided to get in line and view them then I’d head into Macy’s and warm up for a bit. The day wouldn’t be a total bust. It had been exciting and more than an adventure being close to Jack, sneaking peeks and playing like a spy. The last few hours sure beat hanging out in the quiet halls back in New Haven that was for sure.

  As I inched my way closer to the windows, I glanced around just in case Mr. Blue Eyes walked by. But, alas, nothing… Not a damn thing.

  I continued walking with the line toward the display windows. Finally, the first window was right in front of me. I stopped as I read the theme for this year’s window.

  They were showcasing the story of eight-year-old, Virginia O’Hanlon who wanted to know if there really was a Santa Claus. Displayed inside the window in front of me was little Virginia herself, questioning her father about the existence of Santa Claus.

  I had the strangest feeling at that moment. It was almost like I was standing there by myself and the throngs of people just disappeared. Staring at the writing on the window, I felt someone brush up behind me and none too gently. But before I could turn around, I saw my reflection in the window along with the person who bumped into me.