Love Starts With Elle by Rachel Hauck

Author:Rachel Hauck [Hauck, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
ISBN: 9781418570248
Google: aS2b6iJTWxMC
Amazon: B005IGW86U
Barnesnoble: B005IGW86U
Goodreads: 2288200
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2007-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Maybe it was the soft music hovering over Panini’s guests or the flicker of candlelight on the white linen tablecloth, but Elle’s insides felt battered by butterflies.

Handsome Heath wore a blue shirt that matched his eyes, and his bold flirting as he helped her into the van downright messed with her.

“You got all this and you want windows washed?”

But as delectable as he was, her heart wanted to remain in a soft, safe place until the last fragrance of Jeremiah Franklin had faded away.

“Give me the scoop,” he started, sitting back as their server brought a basket of warm bread and appetizer plates. “How often can I expect to get caught in the drawbridge traffic?”

“Daily, if you’re out and about.”

“I was thinking of putting Tracey-Love in school half days, give her something to do while I work.”

“Leave early if you’re concerned about time, but getting caught in bridge traffic is a legitimate excuse around here.”

“Good to know.”

Elle grinned, passing him the bread. On the way downtown, they’d been caught in bridge traffic, and for fifteen minutes New Yorker Heath drummed the wheel impatiently but listened as she talked about a painting she’d started.

He asked about the inspiration behind her idea—drum, drum, drum—offered a suggestion—“What is taking so long?”—talked about colors and the message of her work—“We’re stopped for that one itty-bitty sail boat?”

“Yep.”

He’d glared at her. “New Yorkers would riot.”

The server returned for their order. Elle ordered a brick-oven pizza and Heath the pork roast.

“How’s the book?” Elle leaned to one side, chin in her hand.

“Good, good.” Heath spread his napkin over his lap, reaching for a slice of warm bread. “It’s a World War II love story, which is giving my agent a heart attack, but it’s what came out when I started writing.”

“We’re a slave to the muse, no? Why doesn’t he like the story?”

“If one of your clients was a noted Manhattan criminal lawyer, would you want a love story set in wartime Beaufort and the Aleutian Islands?”

Elle laughed. “No, I guess not. I’d want a legal thriller or political intrigue.”

“Exactly.”

She brushed her hand over the linen. “When do I get to read this masterpiece?”

“When it’s published.”

Ha.

He didn’t even crack a smile.

“Not even a peek?”

Heath tried to hide his grin with a bite of bread. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

“Okay, no more busting my chops about my confidence or sneaking peeks at my work.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about your confidence.” His steady gaze made her butterflies beat their wings. “What happened to the girl who drew on bulletins and water-colored her parents wedding pictures?”

“Gave in to doubt. Let my confidence leak like air from an old bike tire. It became too hard to paint and believe I was any good.”

“Doubt usually has a source.”

Their server refilled their iced teas. Elle waited until she left to go on.

“I had a mentor at New York’s Student Art League the summer after I came home from Florence. I was discouraged and thought if I could find someone who saw beyond my weaknesses, maybe I’d develop my craft.

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