Recruiting Love (A Curtain Call Novelette) Read online

  Recruiting Love

  Curtain Call #1.5 (Standalone)

  © 2017 Laura Greenwood

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission of the published, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address; [email protected].

  Visit Laura Greenwood’s website at:

  www.authorlauragreenwood.co.uk

  www.facebook.com/authorlauragreenwood/

  Cover Design by Swoonworthy Book Covers

  Recruiting Love is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Other Books by Laura Greenwood

  Curtain Call (Sweet NA Romance)

  What Lies Beneath the Mask

  You Know I Do

  Recruiting Love

  Paranormal Council (Paranormal Romance)

  The Dryad’s Pawprint (available in In the Shadows)

  The Vixen’s Bark

  The Necromancer’s Prey

  The Vampire’s Bite

  Paranormal Council Spin-Offs

  Spellbound

  His Lost Bear

  Paranormal Standalone

  By Any Other Name: A Retelling of Romeo and Juliet

  Fantasy Romance Standalones

  Hidden Smoke

  Assassin Princess (Coming soon!)

  Sci-Fi Romance Standalones

  Moonrise

  The Humra (Short Story)

  Alventia Series (Fantasy)

  Betrayed (Mailing List Exclusive)

  Awakening

  Cloaked

  Anthologies

  Touched by Shadow, Caressed by Light

  The Newcomer: Twelve Sci-Fi Short Stories

  Christmas in Love

  Chapter 1

  PLEASE NOTE: This is an ARC copy of Recruiting Love and may contain small errors still.

  “I found her, Jill,” he sounded excited. Not that the excitement helped me work out what on earth he was talking about. Well, who he was talking about, I guess.

  “Who?” I asked distractedly. Propping my phone up using my shoulder, I pulled up the contact details of our newest client.

  “The woman I’m going to marry.” That stopped me cold. There wasn’t much a twin dreaded more than their other half finding, well, their other half. And Jack had always been the more romantic of the two of us. So, I suppose it made sense that he’d found his one, before I’d found mine. Not that it lessened the sting to know that; not in the slightest. “Jill?” His worried voice came down the phone.

  “Sorry, Jack, spaced out for a minute. Tell me about her?” He quickly launched into a long speech about this girl he’d met, but I was only half listening. I was too busy being distracted by the need to send an email to our new client, and set up a meeting as soon as possible. It was the only way to keep me at the top of the company’s list of most successful recruiters. Plus, if I found the client the people he wanted, there’d be a big fat bonus in it for me. And considering the state of the rest of my life, a bonus would be good.

  “Wait, say that again. Cause it sounded like you said you hadn’t been on a date with her yet?” Turns out I was paying enough attention to pick that one out. Not that it surprised me, this was Jack all over.

  “We haven’t,” he replied, sounding surprisingly patient given the circumstances. Then again, he had no way of proving I hadn’t been listening, even if he suspected that was the case. Which he probably did. Jack was a people person, and he could read them easily. It was actually a trait we shared, and one I put to good use as a recruiter.

  “Then how do you know she’s the one?” I asked. Jack sighed loudly, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

  “I just do. Whenever she’s around, it feels different.”

  “She sounds lovely, Jack.” Even I didn’t completely believe what I was saying. Not that I didn’t think this girl would be lovely, I’m sure she was. Especially if she’d managed to twist Jack up in knots like this.

  But my happiness was at least a little faked. I mean, how could it not be? He was my twin, and my own love life was deader than a staked vampire, stuffed with garlic and left to dry in the sun. Jealousy was almost a prerequisite.

  “You’ll love her, I’m sure.” He was silent for a few moments, and I didn’t do anything to change that. To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what to say. “When was the last time you took a break, Jill?”

  “What?” I asked, taken by surprise by his sudden change of subject. Maybe surprise was the wrong word. My workaholic status was a common subject of conversation with my family, but in recent months, even they’d stopped saying much about it. I was a lost cause it seemed.

  “When did you last have a break from work?” He said it slowly this time, as if unconvinced that I’d understood.

  “I went out for dinner last night.”

  “With a client, no doubt.” I stayed silent, not knowing how best to respond. He was right, I’d gone for dinner with Alicia last night. She was an up and coming music producer who wanted the company I worked for to find her the right team. It was a lucrative contract, and I was determined to seal the deal. "Seriously, Jill, you need a rest."

  "Fine, I'll call my boss tomorrow. Happy?" I asked, sorely tempted to throw my arms out up in exasperation. He wasn't likely to stop pestering me about it unless I gave in. He could always manage to get me to do what he wanted, more so than Mum and Dad could. On the other end of the phone, Jack chuckled, almost as if he knew what I was thinking.

  "Make sure you do. I need to go to the theatre now, but I'll see you on Saturday?" He asked, as if we didn't go to our parent's every Saturday since we'd moved out.

  "Yeah, you will. Have fun," I replied.

  "I plan to," he said, sounding excited about the theatre. Which wasn't surprising. He'd been into the theatre stuff since we were kids. He'd even tried to get me involved a time or two, but I'd always resisted. Just like it was his thing, it wasn't mine.

  The dial tone sounded, telling me that Jack had hung up. Which wasn't unusual. We never said goodbye, it had always felt too final. It might have been a twin thing, or we might just be a little bit weird.

  I turned back to my email, knowing I needed to send it off, but something was stopping me. On a whim, I pulled up a travel site to look at how much a ferry to France would cost, while secretly hoping that it'd be too much for me to justify spending on that whim.

  It wasn't. In fact, there seemed to be a sale on. Before I'd fully thought it through, I'd booked myself on to a ferry early tomorrow morning, giving me just about enough time to book somewhere to stay and tell my boss that I wouldn't be back in work until Tuesday. Come to think of it, that should probably be the first thing I should do.

  Chapter 2

  Part of me still couldn't believe that I was actually doing this. I'm not this spur of the minute kind of woman, not by a long shot. But regardless of that, I was now on my way down to the ferry, a packed bag on the back seat and my purse full of euros. I wasn't going anywhere fancy, just a little seaside town I'd been to as a child. But it was late August, which would mean the sun, combined with the sea breeze, would make it the perfect temperature for me.

  I drove a
s if by rote, singing along to the radio and trying not to worry about the work I was leaving undone. My boss had been fine with it, but it still wasn't me to not work and not worry about it. Hopefully a few days in the sun would help cure that one. Not to mention all that yummy French wine. I'd even be able to have a glass of my favourite white too. For some reason, I'd rarely seen any Saumer outside of France; they obviously wanted to keep this secret for themselves.

  The further I got from home, the better I felt about the trip. Maybe Jack was right, and I did need to take some time for myself, recharge the batteries so to speak. By the time I was on the ferry, I was almost excited for it. Except for the whole driving in France thing. I'd done it once before, a few years back on what had turned out to be our last family holiday. Safe to say, I wasn't particularly looking forward to repeating the experience.

  It seemed to be no time at all until the ferry was docking in Le Havre, leaving me to come face to face with my fear. Oh well, least I had my own car and not a rental; that could have added another level of difficulty.

  The drive was surprisingly easy, but then, I was only travelling about forty minutes down the coast. Plus, I had my sat nav on, though I hadn't really used it. Dad had taught me to always follow the signs unless absolutely necessary, but I was part of the technology generation. Having electronics to fall back on was just something we did without thinking about it, and I wouldn’t claim to be any different.

  I turned into the town, relieved to find that it was as picturesque as I remembered it. Not only that, but the sun was shining, so as soon as I'd dropped my things off at the flat I'd rented a room in, I'd be able to take a walk down to the harbour and find somewhere for dinner. I had kitchen facilities at the flat, according to the listing anyway. But what was the point of working as hard as I did, if I didn't get to enjoy the money I'd made?

  I found the flat with relative ease, though this time it was thanks to my sat nav and not my sense of direction. I pulled my bag out of the back of the car, double checking the address on the sheet of paper I’d printed off before leaving. It was never good to be caught unprepared.

  "Bonsoir," a friendly voice greeted, and I turned to see a middle-aged woman smiling and waving at me. She was wearing a flowery summer dress, that looked a worryingly amount like the one I had in my bag. Oh well, I was comfortable enough with my sense of style to not let it bother me. Or lack thereof, as the case may be.

  "Bonsoir, madame," I responded brightly, while obsessively conjugating French verbs in my head. I wasn't even sure why that happened, I was fluent enough not to have to actually worry about getting it too wrong, even if I was a bit rusty.

  "Are you Jill?" The woman asked in French, softening the J so it sounded more like "gee".

  "Oui," I answered.

  "I'm Brigitte," she said. Not that I was surprised. The only person who'd know who I was around here was the woman the flat belonged to. I trailed behind her, only half listening as she told me the dos and don'ts of the apartment. Mostly those seemed to revolve around recycling and why I shouldn't break the rules or there'd be fines. Pretty standard as far as I could remember from previous visits to France.

  "Wait, I'm sharing?" I asked, only just remembering to use French after hearing her talk about another guest. I'd assumed that I was staying in the flat alone, but then again, my Mum had always told me not to assume. It makes an ass out of u and me. This being a prime example.

  "Yes, he's here for the weekend, like you," she said, before going back to giving me a tour of the nicely sized flat I'd be staying in. But I couldn't focus on it, not with the thoughts running around my head. The only men I'd ever shared with were Jack and my Dad, and they hardly counted. I'd never even had a serious enough relationship to have gone on holiday with a boyfriend before. Which was pretty sad given that I was now firmly in my mid-twenties.

  Chapter 3

  I'd managed to avoid my flatmate so far, though I think it was a close-run thing when I got back after my dinner in the harbour last night. I was now counting down the moments until my luck ran out, which would inevitably happen at some point. Especially as I was pretty sure that I could hear the man in question in the kitchen. Short of staying in my room for the entire trip, I supposed that I couldn't avoid him. Nor should I have to, this was my holiday as well as his.

  Plucking up what little courage I had, I opened the door and walked out into the shared space. I'd stopped at a boulangerie on my way back last night, and there was no way that I was letting some random man keep me from my patisserie. I hadn't come all the way to France for that.

  I stopped dead the moment I caught sight of him, not quite sure how to process what I was seeing. He had his back to me, but what a back it was. All toned muscles and a tapered waist. Not to mention completely bare. In fact, all the man seemed to be wearing was a pair of board shorts, which showcased legs that were just as good to look at as his back was.

  It took a few moments for me to snap out of it, and notice that he was also singing softly under his breath. He didn't have a bad voice either, and that was even considering that I spent a lot of time around creative types. Singers tended to be the hardest to deal with, though maybe that was just me projecting my childhood feelings over Jack's singing on them. He'd always been the more talented of the two of us, and considering we were competitive twins, that always left me feeling on the back foot.

  I cleared my throat loudly, hoping that the man would hear over his singing. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I'd been ogling him. Or worse, for him to know that I had been.

  The singing stopped abruptly, and the man turned around. It took everything I had just to keep my breathing even; the man was drop dead gorgeous from the front too. Suddenly I felt very self-conscious. Which was ridiculous. I knew I looked good; one of the only ways I had to blow off steam was running, and I did it almost daily. That, plus the fact that I had the same thick blonde hair that my brother did, put me firmly in the fairly attractive category. Or at least, I hoped it did.

  "Hi, I'm Logan," he said, a bright smile lighting up his dark blue eyes.

  "Jill," I said back, already annoyed with myself for the slight tremor in my voice. I wasn't the kind of woman who let a man affect her like this. Not normally anyway.

  "Coffee?" He asked, but he didn't turn away. Instead, his eyes raked down my body, leaving a trail of heat following in their path. Surprisingly, it didn't make me feel objectified; quite the opposite. Logan's attention was making me feel kind of empowered. Like he saw me for the woman I was, not the connections I had, like most people seemed to do.

  Which was stupid. Not to mention probably just me projecting my secret dating fantasies onto the guy. He was hot, I wasn't denying that, but other than that, I knew nothing about him.

  "Do you want a coffee?" He repeated, looking rather pleased with himself; probably because he'd managed to catch me so off guard. Some guys seemed to like doing that.

  "No thank you," I replied, finally finding my voice.

  "Tea then? It won't taste like it does back home, but then, when does it?" He gave me a lopsided smile, which instantly drew my attention to his mouth.

  "Sure." Actually, I'd kill for a cup of tea. Must be the northerner in me; you could take the girl out of Yorkshire, but you can't take the Yorkshire out of the girl. And good tea was paramount to that. He turned around, pulling out a mug and quickly produced what was actually a pretty decent cuppa, especially considering how different French water tasted.

  "So, why are you here?" He finally asked, while I plated up my breakfast. If I'd known we'd be chit chatting, I'd have got something for him too. Didn't want anyone saying that Mum hadn't raised me right.

  "My twin brother met the love of his life and insisted I took some time off work," I blurted out. Probably not the best idea to reveal that kind of pathetic thing to a stranger. Oh well, too late now.

  "And your boyfriend couldn't get the time off to come with you..." he trailed of
f, his eyes not leaving me. I gave an involuntary laugh, though it wasn't all that jovial. My lack of love life had long stopped being amusing. Even my best friend from school, Saffron, had given up trying to make light of it. Of course, she was also spending her time trying to convince me to move closer to her. If I didn't love my job so much, then I'd have taken up her offer in an instant.

  "No, no boyfriend. Just me. What brings you here?" I cocked my head, trying to make less of a big deal about my perpetual singledom. I was also curious; I knew why I was here, but what was this sexy excuse of a man doing here all alone? It wasn't like we were in a town which was known for its business, and if he was sharing a flat found on the internet, then he wasn't likely to be a touring billionaire with a yacht. More's the pity really. Books made billionaires sound so enigmatic, not to mention super attracted to lowly recruitment consultants. I could have been in there. Plus, this was a kind of romantic place; all walks in the harbour, dinners watching the sunset and going barefoot on the beach.

  Which just made me think of Logan across a dinner table from me, having shared good French food and several glasses of wine. I pushed the image away; it really wasn't helpful given that we had to share a flat for the next few days.

  "An important meeting was pushed back, and I had nothing better to do," he said nonchalantly. Oddly, a wave of guilt consumed me as I thought of the meeting I’d had to cancel to come here. Well not cancel really. Just postpone until my return. Via a super polite email, I might add.

  "So you came to France?" Made sense if he lived in Cornwall or somewhere else down south, but from the sound of his accent that wasn't the case. In fact, I was pretty sure he was a northerner like me. Which still left me wondering why he'd decided to take such a long trip on a whim. Not that I was really one to talk.

  "No one knows me here, seemed like a good place to unwind," he answered without hesitation.