The Perfect One
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About this ebook
Welcome to Burton, Georgia, a small town just west of Savannah. In this farm community, the women are sassy, the men are sexy and happily-ever-afters are a specialty of the house.
When Burton native Alex Nelson ducks into a Savannah art museum, he's only looking for an air-conditioned spot to hang out before an appointment. But meeting Cal Rhodes amps up the heat instead. Now he just has to convince a gun-shy Cal to risk his heart on love.
The sparks fly when the perfect one comes around.
Tawdra Kandle
Tawdra Kandle writes romance, in just about all its forms. She loves unlikely pairings, strong women, sexy guys, hot love scenes and just enough conflict to make it interesting. Her books run from YA paranormal romance through NA paranormal and contemporary romance to adult contemporary and paramystery romance. She lives in central Florida with a husband, kids, sweet pup and too many cats. And yeah, she rocks purple hair.
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The Perfect One - Tawdra Kandle
1
That’s a Paige Bishop.
I turned, jolted from the staring contest I’d been about to lose with the painting in front of me. The voice that interrupted my reverie was deep, with the same slow Georgia drawl I’d grown up hearing. And the person attached to that voice was tall, hot and hunky, watching me with a measured interest, obviously waiting for me to make an intelligent response to his statement.
Huh?
Yeah, that was me. King of the witty repartee.
The painting. It’s by Paige Bishop. She’s one of our local artists in residence.
I nodded as though I knew what the hell that meant. As if I’d been even remotely interested in the beach scene I was looking at. As if I hadn’t just ducked into this gallery because I was early for my appointment at the building next door and it was too damned hot to stand outside.
She mostly works in oils and does nature scenes—landscapes, some local wildlife. But she’s begun branching out into watercolor and depicting some of our local historic houses. Those pieces will debut at her show next month.
He paused, and his gaze swept down me. I felt the familiar burn of attraction as his eyes took me in, but he didn’t seem to notice. Are you local?
I, uh—no. Or, well, sort of. I used to be. Not to Savannah, but nearby.
His lip twitched just the slightest bit. Well, that’s convoluted.
I ran a hand over my hair, my go-to gesture when I was particularly nervous. Yeah. I mean, I grew up in Burton. It’s a little town about forty-five minutes southwest of here. But I went to college in Atlanta, and I stayed there after graduation.
He rocked, back on his heels, hands jammed into the pockets of his khakis. Ah. So what brings you to Savannah?
He smirked, and my heart jumped. Damn, he was sexy. "I’m assuming it wasn’t your passion
for
art
."
I couldn’t help laughing, even though he’d totally outed me. "Okay, you got me. I don’t have the faintest idea about oils or watercolor or what the hell the difference is. I’m here for work, and I overestimated how long it was going to take me to walk over from my hotel. I needed to kill fifteen minutes, and it felt good in here. Quiet
and
cool
."
He raised one eyebrow. So any port in a storm?
Pretty much.
I had no shame at this point.
"Well, damn. At least you could’ve played along a little longer. Let me give you my spiel on our artist-in-residence program and how you can
support
it
."
"Sorry about that. But feel free to pretend I didn’t say any of that stuff about art ignorance, and
spiel
away
."
He shook his head. Nah, you’ve ruined it now.
He half pivoted, as though he were going to walk away, and I felt a pang of loss. Not yet, dude. Not before I get your name, at least, and maybe a phone number?
addy
?
As though he could hear my mental plea, he stopped, glancing at me over his shoulder. So what do you do, when you’re not impersonating an art aficionado?
Hey, no impersonation here. I came clean right away.
I held up my hands. I’m a coordinating manager for Scaldar-Whitting. We manage industry events all over the country.
I’ve heard of them.
He kept his voice neutral, so I had no clue whether he’d heard good or bad. It could go either way; working for a huge company like Scalder had both pros and cons. I didn’t want to stay with them forever, but for now, my job paid the bills.
"Yeah, well, we’re in the running to get the contract on a huge convention that’s going to be held here in Savannah next year. That’s why I’m
in
town
."
Ah.
He nodded, and I wondered if this dude ever expressed an actual opinion on anything. He was so damn non-committal. And because I’m me, the guy who never let anything ride, I decided to push a little.
I’m Alex Nelson.
I stuck out my hand, stepping closer to him, clearly intruding on the personal space boundaries.
To his credit, he didn’t step back. Instead, he stared at my hand so long I wondered if I had something on it. When he finally closed his fingers around mine, something happened. Something I’d never felt before. It was like some weird kind of familiarity, as though I’d held his hand a million times before, but then there was this zing of wild attraction, a jolt of naked desire.
I didn’t know if he’d felt it, too, but he flexed his fingers, releasing mine and taking one small step backwards.
Cal Rhodes.
His jaw tensed.
Cal.
I tested it on my tongue. Short for Calvin?
No.
He sighed. Calvert. My mother’s family name. She was the only child, and her father was last in the family line, so she gave it to me as my first name. Wasn’t that sweet of her?
The irony in his voice wasn’t quite bitterness, but neither was it out-and-out affection.
Moms. What’re you going to do, right?
I shrugged and slid two fingers into the front pocket of my pants. So, Calvert Rhodes . . .
One side of my mouth lifted up. "Have dinner
with
me
?"
His forehead furrowed. "Dinner? Oh, I
don’t
know
."
Yeah, big