April Fool's Day Lord, please let this be a joke. Julia Newman stood in her entry hall, taking another peek out the narrow window next to the front door. Nothing had changed. It still looked like a bikers' convention, minus the motorcycles, moving in next door. She was appalled but somehow fascinated by the long hair, ragged clothes, tattoos and bare, hairy chests. Despite her good intentions, she stayed at the window to watch a little longer. The half-dozen men seemed out of place in the quiet, woodsy townhouse complex on the edge of San Francisco's Noe Valley. She'd always loved the contrast of the rustic atmosphere in the middle of the big city, but right now it was the last thing on her mind. All of them weren't moving in, were they? No way was she going to set foot outside the house today. "Hey, Rick! What'd you pack in here? Rocks?" One of them strained to lift a huge box out of the back of an aging station wagon. The man was in desperate need of a shave and a haircut. Julia shook her head. Her own hair fell to the middle of her back when she let it down, but his was longer. A man with a graying red-gold beard and a bandanna rolled and tied around his forehead stepped over to help. "Rick had to make a beer run. He'll be back any minute." Carrying the box between them, they clambered up the three stone steps to the small porch Julia's apartment shared with the adjoining one. Then she heard them trooping down the stairs inside. The complex was built into the side of the hill, townhouse style, with the living areas at street level and the bedrooms downstairs. The unit next door was a mirror image of hers, and with every stomp of feet or raised voice, she could picture exactly where those men were and what they were doing. So far they hadn't awakened Poppy from her mid-afternoon nap, but Julia didn't doubt that any minute now the little dachshund would be at the door, barking hysterically for a chance to get out and bite some ankles. An old but spotless white Porsche swerved into the lane and screeched to a stop among the other cars. Julia was awed by how close it came to taking out the bushes lining the drive without actually touching them. The screech of his tires may have drawn her attention in the first place, but the sight of the driver unfolding from the car held it. She wondered how such a big guy had squeezed into such a small car. He was well over six feet tall and wide through the shoulders. A black T-shirt played up his broad chest and muscular arms. Stone-washed jeans hugged his long legs and didn't leave much to the imagination. Wavy mahogany-brown hair brushed his shoulders. He looked almost secretive, with a full beard covering the lower half of his face, and a pair of Ray-Bans hiding the rest. All she could really see was the hard slash of his nose. One of his friends poked at a cordovan leather chesterfield-style sofa in the back of an old pickup truck. The couch looked too expensive--and tasteful--for this crowd. "About time you showed up, Rick. You're not paying me enough to move your furniture while you go shopping." "Cool your jets, D.J." Rick's voice matched his looks, rough, rumbling...but somehow soothing, too. "I'm gonna put the beer inside. That's the only pay you're getting, anyway." The men laughed as they went back to work. Long hair, booze, and likely women, too. Julia frowned. This Rick person might be the type to catch another woman's eye, but she knew way too much about men like him. The neighborhood where she'd grown up was only a few blocks from here in the Mission District, but it was light-years away in socio-economic terms. She'd learned the hard way how to recognize trouble when she saw it coming. Of course, she'd left all that behind. Now she had the security she'd always craved. She was a productive member of society, and she knew enough not to let a man like Rick trip her up. Watching Mama had taught her almost everything she needed to know, and she'd learned the rest all by herself. Julia swallowed the familiar bitterness that crowded up in her chest. She let the curtain flutter back in place, disgusted with herself for wasting a perfectly good Saturday afternoon. There was laundry to fold, and then she really ought to correct yesterday's spelling tests. But she was back at her post five minutes later when she heard that deep, gravelly voice on the porch. "Turn it sideways, Steel, or it'll get stuck. Oh, hell, it's gonna stick anyway." Rick and one of his buddies were trying to maneuver the sofa through the front door, treating it as if it weighed no more than a folding chair. Julia could barely make out the words rippling across his T-shirt: So Many Women--So Little Time. Of course, she thought with grim humor. How charming of him to share his political views with the rest of us. But she froze as Rick glanced her way and caught her spying. Never taking his gaze away from her, he said something she couldn't quite hear to his friend. Then he shifted his end of the sofa to one hand and raised his sunglasses. Espresso-colored eyes crinkled at the corners, their teasing look belying the solemn expression on his face. Some faithless part of her mind noticed the flat, high cheekbones, the dark tan, the inviting thickness of his hair. He winked suddenly and dropped the sunglasses over his eyes. Julia's paralysis broke. She gave a solemn nod of acknowledgement--she knew better than to show any sign of being intimidated--and waited until he moved out of sight with the sofa. Only then did she back away from the window. "Damn it!" That nosy streak was going to get her into real trouble one of these days. But it wasn't exactly nosiness...more like a healthy curiosity about her environment. It made sense to keep her eyes open, didn't it? After all, no one else was going to watch out for her. She turned on the stereo, trying to drown out the thumps and shouts next door with Beethoven's Ninth. The music's strength and power suited her mood. When she sat down on the living room carpet and lifted Poppy into her lap, the dog snuggled close and grunted in her sleep. Julia ran one hand over her "baby's" sleek red-brown back. But her thoughts kept returning to him. Rick. So what if he was tall, dark and handsome? You couldn't tell under all that hair, anyway, she told herself. So what if his eyes had been full of understanding and humor when he'd seen her watching from the window? Her father had had beautiful eyes, too--at least according to her mother. Julia certainly wouldn't know. And so what if his rumbling voice sent shivers down her spine? He wasn't going to get much chance to use either the voice or the eyes on her, because she planned to keep her distance. Polite--yes, of course; friendly--no, no, no. If you like what you've read here, please visit my How to Order page for information on where to find your own copy of UNDERCOVER LOVE. Order an autographed copy instantly with Paypal! |
Join my mailing list! If you would like to be notified (OCCASIONALLY) about new releases, contests, web site updates, etc., please send me an email with your name and email address. (Or if you would like to be removed from my mailing list, just email me and say so.) PRIVACY NOTICE: I promise not to share your email address with anyone else, ever. |
Honors for UNDERCOVER LOVE Amazon.com 1999 Category Best-Seller Affaire de Coeur Reader/Writer Poll Finalist - Best Contemporary and Best Up & Coming Author Categories Manderley Catalog "Highly Recommended" Title |
Life in the middle class was just fine with Julia Newman. She'd fought her way out of the slums and never planned to go back again. Why did she have to find her low-life neighbor Rick so irresistible? And what was he up to, anyway? Julia's nosy inner self declared war against her more sensible side - and won. The last thing Rick Peralta needed was a tempting but off-limits schoolteacher poking around in his business. He broke out in a sweat every time he thought about the complications. But too soon, Rick found himself sharing more than secrets with Julia . . . |
Undercover Love Check out my latest books |
Romance Author Lucy Grijalva |
"Talented author Lucy Grijalva brings a special life and depth to her characters. UNDERCOVER LOVE is full of warmth and passion." -- Romantic Times (4 stars) "Lucy Grijalva is destined to make a name for herself. Way to go Lucy! You have a winner." -- Affaire de Coeur (4 1/2 stars) "Fast paced, sexy, witty . . . it's a treat." --Contra Costa Times |
Life in the middle class was just fine with Julia Newman. She'd fought her way out of the slums and never planned to go back again. Why did she have to find her low-life neighbor Rick so irresistible? And what was he up to, anyway? Julia's nosy inner self declared war against her more sensible side - and won. The last thing Rick Peralta needed was a tempting but off-limits schoolteacher poking around in his business. He broke out in a sweat every time he thought about the complications. But too soon, Rick found himself sharing more than secrets with Julia . . . |
Honors for UNDERCOVER LOVE Amazon.com 1999 Category Best-Seller Affaire de Coeur Reader/Writer Poll Finalist - Best Contemporary and Best Up & Coming Author Categories Manderley Catalog "Highly Recommended" Title |
NOW AVAILABLE UNDERCOVER LOVE by Lucy Grijalva |
Join my mailing list! If you would like to be notified (OCCASIONALLY) about new releases, contests, web site updates, etc., please send me an email with your name and email address. (Or if you would like to be removed from my mailing list, just email me and say so.) PRIVACY NOTICE: I promise not to share your email address with anyone else, ever. |
This page was last updated on: December 9, 2004
April Fool's Day Lord, please let this be a joke. Julia Newman stood in her entry hall, taking another peek out the narrow window next to the front door. Nothing had changed. It still looked like a bikers' convention, minus the motorcycles, moving in next door. She was appalled but somehow fascinated by the long hair, ragged clothes, tattoos and bare, hairy chests. Despite her good intentions, she stayed at the window to watch a little longer. The half-dozen men seemed out of place in the quiet, woodsy townhouse complex on the edge of San Francisco's Noe Valley. She'd always loved the contrast of the rustic atmosphere in the middle of the big city, but right now it was the last thing on her mind. All of them weren't moving in, were they? No way was she going to set foot outside the house today. "Hey, Rick! What'd you pack in here? Rocks?" One of them strained to lift a huge box out of the back of an aging station wagon. The man was in desperate need of a shave and a haircut. Julia shook her head. Her own hair fell to the middle of her back when she let it down, but his was longer. A man with a graying red-gold beard and a bandanna rolled and tied around his forehead stepped over to help. "Rick had to make a beer run. He'll be back any minute." Carrying the box between them, they clambered up the three stone steps to the small porch Julia's apartment shared with the adjoining one. Then she heard them trooping down the stairs inside. The complex was built into the side of the hill, townhouse style, with the living areas at street level and the bedrooms downstairs. The unit next door was a mirror image of hers, and with every stomp of feet or raised voice, she could picture exactly where those men were and what they were doing. So far they hadn't awakened Poppy from her mid-afternoon nap, but Julia didn't doubt that any minute now the little dachshund would be at the door, barking hysterically for a chance to get out and bite some ankles. An old but spotless white Porsche swerved into the lane and screeched to a stop among the other cars. Julia was awed by how close it came to taking out the bushes lining the drive without actually touching them. The screech of his tires may have drawn her attention in the first place, but the sight of the driver unfolding from the car held it. She wondered how such a big guy had squeezed into such a small car. He was well over six feet tall and wide through the shoulders. A black T-shirt played up his broad chest and muscular arms. Stone-washed jeans hugged his long legs and didn't leave much to the imagination. Wavy mahogany-brown hair brushed his shoulders. He looked almost secretive, with a full beard covering the lower half of his face, and a pair of Ray-Bans hiding the rest. All she could really see was the hard slash of his nose. One of his friends poked at a cordovan leather chesterfield-style sofa in the back of an old pickup truck. The couch looked too expensive--and tasteful--for this crowd. "About time you showed up, Rick. You're not paying me enough to move your furniture while you go shopping." "Cool your jets, D.J." Rick's voice matched his looks, rough, rumbling...but somehow soothing, too. "I'm gonna put the beer inside. That's the only pay you're getting, anyway." The men laughed as they went back to work. Long hair, booze, and likely women, too. Julia frowned. This Rick person might be the type to catch another woman's eye, but she knew way too much about men like him. The neighborhood where she'd grown up was only a few blocks from here in the Mission District, but it was light-years away in socio-economic terms. She'd learned the hard way how to recognize trouble when she saw it coming. Of course, she'd left all that behind. Now she had the security she'd always craved. She was a productive member of society, and she knew enough not to let a man like Rick trip her up. Watching Mama had taught her almost everything she needed to know, and she'd learned the rest all by herself. Julia swallowed the familiar bitterness that crowded up in her chest. She let the curtain flutter back in place, disgusted with herself for wasting a perfectly good Saturday afternoon. There was laundry to fold, and then she really ought to correct yesterday's spelling tests. But she was back at her post five minutes later when she heard that deep, gravelly voice on the porch. "Turn it sideways, Steel, or it'll get stuck. Oh, hell, it's gonna stick anyway." Rick and one of his buddies were trying to maneuver the sofa through the front door, treating it as if it weighed no more than a folding chair. Julia could barely make out the words rippling across his T-shirt: So Many Women--So Little Time. Of course, she thought with grim humor. How charming of him to share his political views with the rest of us. But she froze as Rick glanced her way and caught her spying. Never taking his gaze away from her, he said something she couldn't quite hear to his friend. Then he shifted his end of the sofa to one hand and raised his sunglasses. Espresso-colored eyes crinkled at the corners, their teasing look belying the solemn expression on his face. Some faithless part of her mind noticed the flat, high cheekbones, the dark tan, the inviting thickness of his hair. He winked suddenly and dropped the sunglasses over his eyes. Julia's paralysis broke. She gave a solemn nod of acknowledgement--she knew better than to show any sign of being intimidated--and waited until he moved out of sight with the sofa. Only then did she back away from the window. "Damn it!" That nosy streak was going to get her into real trouble one of these days. But it wasn't exactly nosiness...more like a healthy curiosity about her environment. It made sense to keep her eyes open, didn't it? After all, no one else was going to watch out for her. She turned on the stereo, trying to drown out the thumps and shouts next door with Beethoven's Ninth. The music's strength and power suited her mood. When she sat down on the living room carpet and lifted Poppy into her lap, the dog snuggled close and grunted in her sleep. Julia ran one hand over her "baby's" sleek red-brown back. But her thoughts kept returning to him. Rick. So what if he was tall, dark and handsome? You couldn't tell under all that hair, anyway, she told herself. So what if his eyes had been full of understanding and humor when he'd seen her watching from the window? Her father had had beautiful eyes, too--at least according to her mother. Julia certainly wouldn't know. And so what if his rumbling voice sent shivers down her spine? He wasn't going to get much chance to use either the voice or the eyes on her, because she planned to keep her distance. Polite--yes, of course; friendly--no, no, no. If you like what you've read here, please visit my How to Order page for information on where to find your own copy of UNDERCOVER LOVE. Order an autographed copy instantly with Paypal! |
Read Chapter 1 for a taste of Undercover Love by Lucy Grijalva |
