Kiss in the Dark

Copyright
© 2011

Kiss in the Dark
by Marcia Lynn McClure

www.marcialynnmcclure.com

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the contents of this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any part or by any means without the prior written consent of the author and/or publisher.

Published by Distractions Ink

P.O. Box 15971

Rio Rancho, NM 87174

©Copyright 2009, 2011 by M. L. Meyers

A.K.A. Marcia Lynn McClure

Cover Photography by © /Dreamstime.com
Cover Design by Sheri L. Brady

MightyPhoenixDesignStudio.com

First Printed Edition: 2011

All character names and personalities in this work of fiction

are entirely fictional, created solely in the imagination of the author.

Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

McClure, Marcia Lynn, 1965—

Kiss in the Dark
: a novel/by Marcia Lynn McClure.

Printed in the United States of America

To true and enduring friendship…
A rare and beautiful gift that I have been so blessed to know!

Chapter One

“Boston!”

Boston skidded to a stop, wishing she were wearing cross-trainers instead of heels. Leaning back, she glanced into Mr. Mercer’s office. Dominic Mercer hurriedly rose from his chair, snatching a piece of paper from his desk.

“Good,” Mr. Mercer said, stuffing the paper on top of Boston’s already precarious pile. “Then make sure Atkins gets this ASAP! It’s an update on that downtown murder.”

Boston pressed her chin to the top of the pile to secure the added task. “Got it,” she said.

“That’s my girl!” Mr. Mercer chuckled, slapping Boston on the behind.

Boston gritted her teeth, nodded, and simply set out anew toward the news desk set. Mr. Mercer was a pervert, and she couldn’t stand him! Yet Lara Hoffstetter was leaving the network, meaning the assistant news scriptwriter’s job was about to open up. Boston wanted the Channel 7 News assistant scriptwriter’s job more than anything. And she was fairly certain she’d get it—as long as she could put up with Mr. Mercer’s harassment for a little while longer.

Therefore, she didn’t reprimand her lecherous boss, nor would she report him to human resources. She wanted that scriptwriter’s job, and she knew she wouldn’t get it if she rocked the boat now. Instead, she raced to the news desk, set her pile down just long enough to hand the update on the downtown murder to the media news editor, and hurried on.

Her feet were aching something awful! She’d known she shouldn’t have worn new shoes—especially heels—especially on a Friday! Glancing to a wall clock as she rushed down the hall, she breathed a little sigh of renewed determination, knowing she could take her shoes off in just fifteen more minutes. She decided she’d drive home barefoot; she wouldn’t wait until she got home to give her feet a break.

“Did you drop that promotional stuff off in advertising for me, Boston?” Ms. Shafer asked as Boston passed an open office door.

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” Boston called, not pausing to glance at the woman or give the arrogant promo VP any other opportunity to criticize.

“Fifteen more minutes,” Boston mumbled as she tossed a manila envelope onto the desk of one of the weekend anchors.

Fifteen more minutes and she’d be free! Fifteen more minutes and she’d be on her way home to change so she and Steph could go over to Danielle’s apartment for dinner.

Boston’s mouth watered as she thought of the delicious chili dogs waiting at Danielle’s. She could almost smell the onions and cheese, and she smiled. It was always best to have something to look forward to. Boston adored her little secret delights, like knowing a fun evening with friends and chili dogs awaited after a long work week.

“Don’t forget the chocolate milk mix,” she mumbled. She and Steph were supposed to bring the chocolate milk mix for dinner. Danielle was out.

“Come on, Boston! I need those printouts now!” Mr. Stafford growled as she approached his office.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stafford,” she apologized, handing him the printouts he’d sent her to retrieve. “The printers were out of ink, and I had to change them myself.”

“That’s no excuse,” he growled, snatching the papers from her hand. “I needed these five minutes ago!”

“I’m sorry,” Boston said, apologizing once more—though she really felt like slapping him soundly across the face, telling him he should’ve gone to get his own printouts. She glanced at his potbelly, thinking the walk would’ve done him good. She kept a civil tongue, however, and turned to drop off the last item she still carried, a box of paper for Samantha Sang’s office.

“Thanks, Boston,” Samantha said as Boston set the box on her desk and heaved a sigh of relief. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Samantha opened the box, lifted out a ream of paper, and proceeded to load her printer. Boston liked Samantha Sang. The woman had retained a good measure of humility, even for her high position on the news staff. She was in her mid-thirties and always dressed well, in business skirt suits. Her overall appearance was very professional and, at the same time, very feminine.

“Girl friends,” Boston said, her smile broadening. “We’re doing chili dogs and a movie. You know, sloppy clothes, overeating…watching a chick flick.”

Samantha giggled. “Sounds like fun!”

“Yeah,” Boston said. However, she did not want to overstay her welcome in the office of the woman she hoped to be working for in a few weeks. So she said, “Well, you have a good weekend, Ms. Sang.”

“You too, Boston. Eat a chili dog for me, will you?” Samantha said as Boston left her office.

“Of course!” Boston exclaimed.

As she walked down the hallway away from the news scriptwriter’s office and back toward the chaos of the news desk set, she crossed her fingers. In truth, she hadn’t put in much time at Channel 7 News—only a year—but she’d worked hard, even made some last-minute script changes at Samantha’s bidding on occasion. Now she hoped her hard labor, good work ethic, and cheery amity with everyone on the staff would soon pay off.

She felt the buzz in her pocket and retrieved her cell, smiling when she saw the text from Danielle.

Don’t forget the chocolate milk mix
, it said.

Quickly, Boston responded,
Oh, don’t worry…I won’t!
speaking the words aloud as her thumbs raced over the keys.

She smiled when Danielle’s next text said simply,
Fabulous!

Boston dropped her phone back into the front pocket of her pants and glanced up at the clock on the wall. Five more minutes—just five more minutes! Yet as her feet ached for relief, she wondered if there would be any feeling left in them at all when she finally got those stupid shoes off.

She raced back to her cubical, quickly straightened her work station, grabbed her purse, and headed for the exit door. As she left, she heard the office go quiet and the Channel 7 theme music begin piping through the building—she knew the 5:30 newscast had begun. Her work week was officially ended!

Boston paused a moment as she stepped from the building and into the warm evening sun. She reached into her purse and dug around until she found one last chocolate Tootsie Pop. She removed the wrapper from the sucker and popped it into her mouth, exhaling a long, relieved sigh of delight. As her mouth began to water from the sweet taste of the candy, she took hold of the white cardboard stick protruding from her mouth and pulled the lollipop out for a moment. She closed her eyes—inhaled a deep breath of city air. All the scents she loved about the city were there: the mingling aromas of the good downtown restaurants, the warm smell of hot pavement, stale pipe smoke wafting from somewhere, a hint of chlorine from the enormous fountain in the plaza one building over.

Boston opened her eyes, popped the chocolate Tootsie Pop back into her mouth, and smiled. She liked working downtown; she wouldn’t want to live there but liked working there. As she walked to the parking garage, she passed the Little Christmas Shop. She wished she had time to pop in. She loved wandering through the high-end Christmas decorations, the little lighted porcelain villages. But it would have to wait. Steph would no doubt beat her home and be as impatient as ever to get over to Danielle’s.

As she walked, rolling the sucker in her mouth back and forth with her tongue, Boston wondered how Halle’s job interview had gone. She wondered if Kara’s boyfriend, Max, had managed to get up enough nerve to propose. Surely Kara would’ve texted if Max had asked her to marry him. Likewise, Halle would’ve texted if she’d gotten the job. Still, maybe they were just waiting until they were all together at Danielle’s for dinner.

Boston slid into the seat of her car, turned the key in the ignition, and backed out of her parking spot. As she drove home, she continued to think about her friends, smiling to herself as she thought of the way they’d all met. The summer after Boston’s first year at college, her uncle had secured a job for her at the little Santa’s Workshop and North Pole theme park in Cascade, Colorado.

Nestled in the foothills of Pikes Peak, the North Pole had always been Boston’s favorite summer vacation destination as a small child. Amid the tall pines and roaming deer, the North Pole had Christmas-themed rides, like a roller coaster that looked like a candy cane, a giant peppermint slide, and a little train that slowly circled the theme park. Santa’s house was there, cozy and warm, a fire glowing in the hearth even in summer. There were other little buildings and shops as well—colorful buildings constructed and embellished to mimic a tiny, vibrant alpine village of sorts. Small cafés served hot chocolate, warm cider, cookies, and sandwiches. Deer roamed the park freely, and there was even an area where guests could feed Santa’s very own reindeer. All in all, it was the wonder of a small child’s dreams come true. Thus, she had been thrilled when her uncle had called with the news he’d procured a summer job for her at the North Pole—for it was just about her favorite place on earth!

Boston stayed with her aunt and uncle in Manitou Springs while she worked that summer. It had been the most delightful job she’d had! Boston smiled as she turned onto Main Street, thinking it still the most delightful job—ever. That glorious summer, she’d started working as the operator for the Candy Cane Coaster but had soon managed to work most days in Carousel Café. It was while serving ice cream and milkshakes at the café that she had first met Halle. Halle worked in the café too—worked in the café or sometimes operated the Christmas Tree ride. Halle and Boston had become fast friends, and they’d soon gotten to know Danielle, who manned the camera at Santa’s house. They’d met Dempsey there too, the coolest male elf Santa had ever employed.

Boston giggled out loud as a remembered vision of Dempsey, dressed like one of Santa’s elves and operating the world’s highest Ferris wheel, flashed through her mind. Dempsey was what Halle liked to call “a character,” always into mischief, always finding amusement in the smallest things in life. It was hard to imagine him as the big hotshot he was now—not so hard to imagine that he made his money writing humorous advertising gimmicks and jingles.

Boston, Halle, Danielle, Dempsey, and Dempsey’s sister Kara had worked nearly the whole summer together that year before figuring out that Boston’s uncle knew all their parents and had procured jobs for each one of them. Thus, the five University of Oklahoma, Oklahoma-born natives found themselves working as Santa’s helpers at the North Pole in Colorado for one glorious summer—a summer that forged vastly enduring friendships.

Steph was the only one of the group whom they’d met back at school. She’d worked at small café with Dempsey during their second year. Steph had harbored an insane infatuation with Dempsey and somehow managed to insinuate herself into the group. After graduation, as everyone managed to secure jobs in Oklahoma City, somehow Boston ended up sharing an apartment with Steph. It was a character flaw of Boston’s—the inability to say the word
no
when someone acted pitifully enough. Steph had begged Boston to share the apartment, and though her gut churned in telling her she shouldn’t cave, she did. Thus, she’d been roommates with Steph for over a year—and in truth, it was wearing.