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    Love Challenges and Desires
    Love Challenges and Desires
    Love Challenges and Desires
    Ebook290 pages4 hours

    Love Challenges and Desires

    By Karen Cino

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    About this ebook

    This is the second edition, revised with a different cover than the original.
    Rose Bocchino is a photographer who lands a job at Walcott Cosmetic Corporation. Immediately she hits it off with her boss, Alex Walcott. Despite being divorced, he still lives in the apartment in his mansion to be closer to his daughters. Once officially divorced, Rose is ready to begin her life with Alex who continues to insist the timing isn’t right. He fears once he leaves, his ex-wife will limit his parental rights. Rocker Marco Corrente is hired to be the spokesperson for Walcott’s new men’s cologne line. From the moment he meets Rose, he falls hard for her. Rose despises Marco’s bad boy image, leading her to turn the photo shoot over to her assistant who has plans of her own. The tension builds between Marco and Rose as the shoot moves forward. Will Rose let her heart lead the way down the right path?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKaren Cino
    Release dateDec 6, 2015
    ISBN9781310900532
    Love Challenges and Desires
    Author

    Karen Cino

    Karen Cino is a multi-published author who has been writing since she was fourteen years old. She started her career by writing poetry, short stories and writing articles for her high school newspaper. After reading Jackie Collin’s Lovers and Gamblers and Jacqueline Susann’s, Valley of the Dolls, Karen found her niche. She wanted to write women’s fiction and wrote her first book during the summer before she started college. Her daily walks down at the boardwalk are what gets her muse going. It clears her mind and helps her find realistic plot ideas and the characters boosting up her muse. Karen loves writing about local places that people can relate to. The late Paul Zindel’s books took place in Staten Island and reading them, especially My Darling My Hamburger, still brings back many memories for her.Karen loves the summer, loves the beach. Her previous books were written and take place in various places across Staten Island. Karen relocated to the New Jersey Shore in 2015. She traded in the Staten Island Boardwalk for the shoreline in Long Beach Island. Her Cookie Cutter Cozy Series takes place in Barnegat, NJ.Karen is a member of Romance Writers of America, Women's Fiction Writing Association and Liberty States Fiction Writers.Karen has two adult children, Michael Giordano and Nicole Balmaseda, two cats, Katie and Sunni and lives with Paul, her true love in Toms River, New Jersey.Currently, Karen is working on a new Cozy Mystery Series and Women’s Fiction Series.

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      Book preview

      Love Challenges and Desires - Karen Cino

      LOVE CHALLENGES AND DESIRES

      Karen Cino

      Mandolay Press

      Love Challenges and Desires

      By Karen Cino

      Smashword Edition

      Copyright 2015 Karen Cino

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Women’s Fiction Romance

      Love Challenges and Desires

      Copyright © 2014 Karen Cino

      E-book ISBN: 978-1-63105-200-2

      First E-book Publication: June 2014

      Second Edition December 2015

      Cover design by Karen Cino

      Edited by Stephanie Balistreri

      Proofread by Amanda Ward

      All cover art and logo copyright © 2014 by Mandolay Press

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

      All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

      PUBLISHER

      Mandolay Press

      Dedication

      For everyone in search of their soulmate.

      Acknowledgment

      Thank you to all my readers, family and friends. Your love and inspiration keeps my writing everyday. To my editor, Stephanie Balistreri, publisher, Beth Walker, Cover Artist, Dawne Dominique. A special thanks to my parents, Joan and Vinny Cino, my brother, Kenny Cino and my adult children, Michael and Nicole Giordano.

      Chapter One

      Bocchino, in my office now!

      Rose slammed her handbag down on her desk in disgust and marched into Bart’s office. What’s the problem now Bart? And please put that cigarette out. I can’t breathe in here.

      Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m almost through. He continued to take long puffs, exhaling smoke right in her face. I have a big assignment for you that needs your immediate attention, he said, emphasizing every word.

      Oh really. By the tone in his voice she knew this assignment didn’t require her bringing her camera. Who did you insult this time?

      No one, thank you. I do have a bit of class.

      I doubt it. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him stamp out his cigarette on the bare floor. Out of habit, he lit another one and leaned forward in his chair.

      Walcott Cosmetics just fired their current photography firm. This is a three million dollar account that I desperately need.

      What does it have to do with me?

      I need you to represent my company.

      Why me?

      You’re the sanest one here. I trust you. You know my track record with clients.

      She nodded. I do. You’ll wind up banging heads with old man Walcott.

      That’s why I’m sending you. Bart rummaged through the pile of papers on his desk. Now, here’s the address. He handed her a piece of torn paper covered in coffee stains.

      What time is the appointment?

      Four-thirty. Checking his watch, he frowned. That gives you enough time to go home and slip into that tight black spandex dress of yours. While you’re at it, I want you to lose the French braid.

      You’re kidding me, right? Rose leaped out of her chair, crossing her arms tightly to her chest.

      I kid you not, he yelled, catching an attitude. I need this account. You blow it, I lose my company, you’re on the unemployment line.

      Rose rocked back and forth on her feet. What you’re asking me to do is throw myself at Walcott.

      Whatever it takes. You’re my greatest asset, my best photographer.

      Don’t you think you’re crossing the line again?

      Nope.

      Rose knew exactly what he was implying and didn’t like it one bit. She wasn’t going to throw herself at anyone for someone else’s personal gain. She didn’t need a sexual harassment suit against her. I’ll get you the account on our merit. I refuse to belittle myself by using my sexuality. My work speaks for itself.

      I agree. But in that black little number of yours, you can conquer all.

      Oh Bart. She shook her head in disgust. You and that black dress.

      She had inherited her mother’s olive complexion and her father’s Sicilian temper, which she managed to keep under control. At forty-one, she kept in perfect shape by exercising daily and limiting her intake of red meat. She barely stood five foot two inches, but her bold and outgoing style had always been her greatest asset. Being down to earth was a quality that made her easy to get along with. However, don’t cross her, since ‘don’t get mad, get even’ was her motto.

      If what you’re asking me to do is wiggle my breasts in old man Walcott’s face to distract him from my presentation, then you’re very well mistaken. I hate when you put me in this predicament.

      Do what it takes, Bocchino. And don’t disappoint me.

      Anger welled in her throat as she bit her tongue. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a heated dispute. He did this to her all the time, looking for her to bail him out each time he messed up. I’ll do what I can. Before he had time to answer her, she took off.

      * * * *

      Rose walked into the reception area and immediately felt out of place in such a conservative environment. People had warned her old man Walcott was a tight nosed executive who was virtually impossible to work with. It was his way or nothing. She dealt with people like him all the time, but refused to be intimated by them or him.

      She continued to his secretary’s desk where a woman approximately in her early sixties, dressed in your typical customary navy blue business suit, looked up.

      May I help you? she asked annoyed at the intrusion.

      Uh, yes. I’m Rose Bocchino. I have an appointment with Mr. Walcott at four-thirty.

      Glancing at her watch, she curtly announced, You’re early. Take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.

      Before Rose could thank her, she had already returned to her phone call. Rose picked a magazine off the mahogany table and aimlessly flicked through it. The last thing she expected was to be kept waiting. So she was ten minutes early, big deal. Her mother always said ‘better to be early than late’. God how she missed her. It wasn’t fair she had lost both her parents within a year of each other. The only family she had left was her husband, David, who she hung onto because she had no other family.

      Ms. Bocchino? A tall geek with military style blond hair walked out of Mr. Walcott’s office.

      Yes. She stood extending her hand to him.

      He ignored the gesture. I’m Simon Berkley, Mr. Walcott’s assistant. If you would kindly follow me to the conference room, we can get started with your presentation.

      Will Mr. Walcott be joining us?

      No, he won’t.

      Why not?

      His mouth dropped open, as if he didn’t believe she had the audacity to question him. Mr. Walcott is a busy man. I screen all presentations. If I see promise, I pass it on to Mr. Walcott, who makes the decision if he would like to see you or not.

      That’s fine, Mr. Berkley. However, I was under the impression Mr. Walcott would be present at this meeting. Whether you know it or not, I have a hectic schedule. I don’t need to make an unnecessary trip back into the city to repeat myself.

      I’m sorry, Ms. Bocchino, but that’s policy, he said curtly.

      I understand, but you have to understand I had to rearrange my schedule and inconvenience my clients for this appointment. And that’s not my style. Her voice echoed through the quiet office attracting the attention of the other secretaries.

      Are we going to proceed or not? he asked biting his bottom lip.

      Rose narrowed her eyes, as she knew this geek had no intention of discussing her presentation with Mr. Walcott. Once again, her habit of coming across too strong was about to get her in trouble. But she couldn’t resist. This guy seemed like a real idiot. I’ll proceed only if Mr. Walcott joins us.

      Suit yourself.

      He walked into Mr. Walcott’s office slamming the door shut, leaving her behind. She looked around the office when she heard laughing coming from across the room. When she made eye contact with one of the secretaries, she smiled at Rose in triumph. This was definitely not her day. First Bart and now this clown. She should have listened to her father and opened her own studio years ago, especially when he offered to back the investment.

      Simon the geek left Walcott’s office. He walked down the hall without acknowledging her presence. Which meant what? Apparently she had pissed him off as well as Walcott’s secretary, who kept looking over at her. Oh well, sorry Bart. Maybe next time he would handle his dirty work himself. As she waited for the elevator, Walcott’s secretary approached her.

      Ms. Bocchino, Mr. Walcott will see you now.

      Rose pivoted on her heels, keeping her smirk to herself, not wanting anyone to see her gloating as she followed her into the large office.

      She expected to see a baldheaded, overweight man with a cigar hanging out of the side of his mouth, sitting behind the large mahogany desk, but she was shocked. Mr. Walcott was a young man, more than likely in his late forties and devilishly handsome. His chestnut eyes were cold without a laugh line to be found on his wan complexion.

      You may sit, he announced pointing to the chair opposite his desk in a vindictive voice.

      Nervously, she did as told. This was far from her call of duty. Now she felt she had to apologize for her behavior. I hope I didn’t make too much of a rumpus out there. But you know the old saying, time is money.

      And how true that statement is. He leaned forward, reshuffled the papers on his desk before putting them into a folder. Standing, he explained, Unfortunately Ms. Bocchino, I have an emergency board meeting to attend in about five minutes. If you would kindly leave your portfolio, I will look at it later.

      That will be just fine. When should I expect to hear from you? she pushed.

      Instead of answering her, he buzzed his secretary. Make dinner reservations for two at La Porti for eight. It’s a business meeting, so I want my usual table.

      Yes, Mr. Walcott, her voice broadcasted over the speaker.

      I hope eight o’clock isn’t a problem?

      By his tone, she knew it didn’t matter if it was or not. Eight o’clock is fine.

      Do you know where La Porti is?

      Yes. Not far from my house.

      You live in Pinewater? he asked, his eyebrow shooting up.

      I have all my life.

      What a coincidence. I live in Pinewater Heights. Everyone knows my house.

      Oh really. Why do you say that?

      At Christmas time, I put a manger in the center of my lawn, and decorate my house with white lights.

      Sorry, can’t say I’ve seen it. Inasmuch as I love the holidays, I have such a tight schedule that I don’t have time to drive around checking out decorations.

      You really should. Pinewater Heights is known for their extravagant holiday decorations.

      And who really cares. That’s nice, she politely answered, standing. I’ll have to remember to check it out.

      He walked over to the door to let her out. Have you ever been to La Porti before? It’s a very exclusive restaurant.

      On numerous occasions, she replied, taking the hint.

      Then I’ll see you at eight sharp.

      Screw you, she mumbled under her breath as she stepped into the elevator. What did he think she was, an idiot not knowing how to dress? He had some hell of an attitude problem, his arrogance undeniable. What really annoyed her most was that he didn’t open her portfolio or even take a glance at it. He just sat there with that stone face, his words clearly defined one at a time. This environment surely wouldn’t fit into her carefree lifestyle.

      By the time she got out of Manhattan, she was so disgusted she decided to go straight home. The hell with Bart. He would have to wait till morning to find out anything.

      After showering, she checked herself in the mirror, and smiled in satisfaction. Her little black dress looked just as good today as it did just a few years back. The hem fell mid-thigh, appearing sexy, not tacky. She had been complimented on it by many of David’s co-workers a few weeks previously at the company cocktail party.

      I almost forgot about David, she said slapping her hand on her forehead. She had to call and tell him about her business dinner, since Pinewater was a small town where everyone knew one another. As she dialed, she couldn’t help but think about his frequent overnight business trips. When he didn’t answer, she left a message on his cell phone. If she actually did speak to him—which was rare—he always gave her the distinct impression she was bothering him. But things weren’t always like that.

      They had become best friends at six and were crowned king and queen at their senior prom. Shortly after they married, David went to college full-time during the day while Rose worked and attended night classes. By the time she turned twenty, she got a job working for Bart as a photographer’s assistant. He taught her the ins and outs of being a professional photographer. For that, she would always be forever grateful.

      However, over the course of the past several years, her relationship with David had changed. The closeness they once shared had dissipated without either one of them knowing. Candlelight dinners and nights of endless lovemaking were now a thing of the past as she worked longer hours.

      Avoiding each other had unconsciously become their number one priority. At times, the sight of David actually turned her stomach to the point that she would make an excuse to get out of the house. She couldn’t pinpoint when things changed, but somewhere along the line she had fallen out of love with her husband.

      Rose valet parked her car with a few minutes to spare. As she approached the restaurant, the owner opened the wooden door for her, greeting her with a hug.

      How are you doing, Rose?

      Fine, thanks. As always, overworked.

      Send my regards to Bart.

      I will.

      Immediately, she spotted Alex. He stood at the bar clad in a black designer suit and shoes. His short thick brown hair laid neatly on his collar. Hmm. She wondered what his story was. He might have been on the arrogant side earlier, but he sure as hell looked sexy now.

      She walked over and smiled. Good evening, Mr. Walcott.

      Ms. Bocchino, nice of you to show up. I’m a man who doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

      Looking at her watch she explained, I’m early. It’s only a quarter to eight.

      So I see. He placed his wine glass on the bar and tipped the bartender. You look nice. Perfect choice.

      Rose couldn’t help but notice the way he gazed at her. Flattered, she chose to ignore his acknowledgement.

      If you would follow me, our table has been ready.

      The waiter acknowledged them as soon as they sat down. He placed a platter of assorted hors d’oeuvres on the table along with a bottle of red wine.

      I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for us.

      No that’s quite all right. Everything is so good here that I always have a hard time deciding what to order.

      Do you always have a problem making a decision?

      No. When it comes to food, I’m a picky eater, she defended herself. Otherwise I make quick and accurate decisions when it comes to work.

      I’m sure you do. He leaned back in his chair, staring at her.

      Rose crossed her legs hoping to divert his attention away from her. He had a story to tell, she knew it. When the waiter returned, she welcomed the intrusion.

      After he cleared the table and replenished their glasses, Alex put her portfolio on the table. He opened it and flicked through the pages.

      After a few minutes, Rose couldn’t stop herself from wringing her hands as the pressure got to her. So what do you think?

      Excellent work. Is it all yours?

      Yes.

      I’m impressed. You’re really talented, he said, his tone all business. Not many people have an eye like yours. Turning her portfolio toward her, he pointed to the picture of pearls lying on seashells. I’m particularly impressed with this one. The picture’s a gem.

      Thank you, Mr. Walcott. She smiled.

      However, I would never do any business with Bart. He leaned back in his chair. He is downright sneaky. I know his business is on the verge of bankruptcy.

      Well that’s just great. She stood up and reclaimed her portfolio. I wish you would have told me this from the beginning, instead of wasting my time.

      Please, he pointed to her chair, sit down. I have a business proposition for you we will discuss after dinner.

      Why not now?

      Because our food is being served. I don’t like discussing business while I eat.

      Barely any words were exchanged during dinner. And after those amazing appetizers, Rose was full. She managed to finish half her meal before she started playing with the remaining food on her plate.

      Was everything okay? Alex asked.

      Yes. If I take another bite, I’ll explode.

      So, I guess dessert is out.

      She shook her head. Never touch it.

      So I see. Alex smiled.

      He motioned for the waiter to clear off the table and leaned back in his chair. Tell me, Ms. Bocchino, how would you feel about working for me?

      I don’t understand.

      I have a studio with a darkroom that has been vacant for years. My father never got around to hiring anyone after our last in-house professional left. I personally, would rather have someone on the premises every day. Things pop up which need immediate attention. I hate the fact I have to make a half a dozen phone calls before someone is sent.

      What would the job entail?

      Immediate attention is to be given to the Christmas campaign.

      Christmas?

      Yes. I’m a hard man to please. I don’t settle for second best. Our last photographer did the shoot three times before it was to my liking.

      Okay.

      Then there’s the company newsletter, brochures and whatever crops up during the year. Are you still with me?

      She nodded her head. You know Mr. Walcott, you’ve caught me off guard. I really don’t know what to say. I’d like to take a few days to think about your proposition.

      If that’s what it takes. Keep in mind I want your answer yesterday. I would like to rectify this situation as soon as possible.

      I understand. I won’t keep you hanging. I’ll give you my decision in a few days.

      Great. Now enough about business. I want to know what makes you tick, Ms. Bocchino.

      Please, call me Rose.

      Okay, Rose.

      What would you like to know? My resume and work is in the portfolio. I thought we were beyond a job interview when you offered me the job?

      I want you to understand the workload could become pretty heavy at times, the hours quite long. Will that constitute a problem at home?

      None at all. My husband works long hours himself. Husband? Why do I keep calling him that? Hell is the best way to describe our relationship.

      Do you have any children?

      Unfortunately, my husband and I can’t have any.

      Sorry to hear that. Alex hesitated for a few moments before speaking. Tell me, why did you look so surprised when you walked into my office earlier?

      I expected to see someone much older.

      You were expecting to see my old man, huh? he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

      Something like that.

      My father retired a few months ago. We decided it was in the best interest of our company not to make a public announcement. For the past few years, I’ve been running the company with him overlooking my decisions. He’s still active and sits on the board of directors.

      Interesting. Tell me, how did Walcott Cosmetics become one of the biggest and most successful international cosmetic corporations?

      My father and I worked hard to produce only the top of the line women’s cosmetics. We’re not into gimmicks. There’s no such thing as a face cream that eliminates fine lines. Let’s face it, fine lines are a part of the aging process. You want to eliminate them, then see a plastic surgeon.

      You know something, you’re right. I’ve been using your cosmetics and perfumes for years, I’ve never had any allergic reaction and I have very sensitive skin.

      That’s because all of our cosmetics are hypoallergenic. We won’t endorse any product we can’t give our unconditional satisfaction guaranteed label.

      I’m impressed. In other words you’re not out to make a quick buck.

      Exactly. Alex signaled the waiter for the check. How about an after dinner drink?

      No thanks. It’s getting late. I have an early shoot tomorrow morning.

      Can’t play hooky? he asked.

      "Sorry no. I take my job quite seriously. Time is money for both me and

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