THE RECLINER

Disclaimer: This story is based on the addictive characters created by Janet Evanovich in her Stephanie Plum series. They've agreed to star in my little amateur play. You might say I'm their new hobby. I'm not making any money from this.

Set early in the series between Book 3 (January) & Book 4 (July), Stephanie and Joe are still just flirting with each other and Steph is still just Eliza Doolittle to Ranger's Professor Higgins. Her life isn't going too well until her father introduces her to a woman from his past. And that changes everything!

This story suggests that while destiny may be real, it may be more in the form of opportunity knocking and whether one has the courage to open the door (or take a nap in the black recliner).

Author's Note: I will post regularly and I will complete this story. Rated M for minor violence, coarse words in two languages and some sexual situations (love smut) in a third language—body language.

Please don't think this is a shameless plug for another of my stories, but I would encourage you to read my one-shot story "A Father's Influence" sometime before Chapter 16.

Special thanks to bgrgrmpy for all her help and patience and being my sounding board as I struggled to write parts of this.

I'm still new at writing fiction and want to improve, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Prologue

Thursday, July 1—Present Day

"Michael, I'm glad you called so early. I've got great news. My sister, Valerie, finally agreed to come to the wedding. I thought my mother had convinced her to boycott it, but when I asked Val if Angie and Mary Alice could be flower girls, she said yes," Stephanie said.

"That's great news, Sugar. I know how much it'll mean to you to have family here," Michael responded.

Stephanie continued, "Val and I have never been close, and I hope sharing this experience together will help the sisterly bond. The three of them will be flying in from California tomorrow afternoon."

"Everybody here is so excited. I think you'll be pleased with how the arrangements are shaping up on this end," Michael boasted.

"It's been so difficult planning a wedding long distance, especially when I've never even been to Taos. But I trust you, Michael. I know everything will be beautiful. Did you pick up your tux yet?" Steph asked.

Michael smiled, which Steph could hear in his voice. "Yeah, and I look smoking hot in it. You won't be able to keep your hands off me, Sugar. We may not even make it through the entire ceremony."

"You're incorrigible, Michael." He could still make her blush.

"You knew that when you met me, Steph. And you still fell in love with me. You do still love me, Sugar?"

"Always and forever, Michael. See you soon." Steph hung up, feeling calmer. Michael had everything under control. All she had to do was show up. Compared to the hell that planning her wedding to Dickie had been, this one was a breeze.

Steph couldn't believe the changes that the past few months had brought. She remembered that February day it all changed…well, actually, there'd been many life-changing days.

Chapter 1—Rex, You're My One and Only

Monday, February 1 (five months ago)

Stephanie's POV

My heart skipped a beat when he showed up at my door bearing Pino's takeout and a six-pack of beer. His dark wavy hair skimmed his collar, his tight jeans hugged his perfect ass and his brown eyes had that dreamy bedroom look. As he brushed past me and entered my foyer I felt his body heat rolling off him. He was plenty hot enough to warm me up this cold winter night.

After months of flirting and dancing around each other, maybe tonight was the night. We made small chit chat as we polished off our meatball subs—he about his latest collar (some drug dealer), and me about my latest bail bond jumper (some drug user).

Then we sat together on my couch drinking a beer and watching my favorite movie. He slid his arm from the back of the couch down to my shoulder. That was promising…

He was making his move and it was about time. I mean, I like Ghostbusters, but I've seen it a million times and I needed an orgasm way more than I needed a Dan Akroyd and green slime fix.

It'd been at least a year since anything had penetrated my inner sanctum and that had been a cold speculum during my annual physical. I had to remember to tell Dr. Dutrack to sweep out the cobwebs when she did my next Pap smear.

I snuggled a little closer to him and let an mmmmm escape my lips. His left hand started stroking my arm. So far, so good. Wait for it…ah, yes…he licked his lips. His right hand reached under my chin and lifted my face up. I parted my lips ever so slightly as his lips softly touched mine.

I leaned into him, making sure my breast pressed up against his chest. He increased the pressure on my lips and I pulled his lower lip into my mouth gently sucking and licking it. That should get the action going.

Hey, I was a sure thing tonight and I intended for both of us to get lucky. I'd even shaved my legs this morning, how lucky is that? I was a woman on a mission.

His right hand settled on my bare thigh. I felt his fingers making lazy circles on my quivering skin as he inched closer to the Promised Land.

His tongue swept across my lips and I eagerly let him in. He was tentative at first touching his tongue to mine then boldly going where no man had gone for what seemed like a millennia. So sue me, I like Star Trek.

He kissed his way down my neck and my breathing quickened. He had amazing lips and that tongue of his…yum. His mouth latched onto my pulse point at the base of my throat, sucking and nipping until I was squirming and moaning.

His warm hand slid up my thigh under my tight denim skirt. I remembered what those magic fingers did to my virgin body fourteen years ago and I couldn't wait to feel them perform their magic on my ready, willing and all grown up body tonight.

Then…his pager went off. I groaned and not with passion. His hand slid out from under my skirt and grabbed the buzzing sex killer. His lips left my neck as he looked at the number on the pager.

"Shit, it's work. I've gotta go, Cupcake." Joe said. With that, he stood up, grabbed his jacket and walked out the door. Little did I know that was the last time I'd see or hear from Joe Morelli for five months. Burying my face in a pillow I screamed with frustration.

I walked over to Rex's cage and tapped on the glass. His furry little bottom wriggled out of the Campbell's Tomato Soup can and he looked at me with blinking black eyes, whiskers quivering. "Rex, I give up. I'm a failure with men. From now on, you're my one and only."

He just sat there, looking up at me. That was probably the most undivided attention I was going to get from any male. I dropped Rex some hamster crunchies and dragged my sorry ass into the bedroom. I could use eight hours of mental oblivion.

Tuesday, February 2

Groundhog Day dawned cold and windy with a promise of sleet; a miserable depressing February day in Trenton. I really wanted to stay in bed.

The thought of spending the day freezing my tush off chasing down society's law breaking scum of the earth was about as appealing as jumping into a vat full of sewage, but that was my life. I was a thirty-year old, 125-pound, five-feet, seven-inch, brown-haired, blue-eyed bounty hunter at large.

The only reason for me to get up was to try to make some money so I could continue to live in the style I was accustomed. You know, eating cheap junk food, driving a POS car, and pouring rent money into my outdated apartment.

I had no social life, no social sex, and no hope for any future change in either. Stephanie Plum, poster child for Losers Anonymous.

I was in the middle of my shower shampooing my hair, when the pipes shuddered and a gusher of rust-colored ice cold water spewed from the showerhead shocking my body. Shrieking, I tripped backward over the bathtub rim and fell to the floor wedged between the tub and toilet, suds running into my eyes. I had to slither along the floor to extricate myself and then towel dry. I felt scummy all over.

As I blow-dried my wet hair, sparks shot out from the nozzle stinging my scalp and then the darn thing died. I let out a blood-curdling scream and threw the useless machine out the bathroom door and across my bed. Of course, it hit the window and shattered the glass. Crap!

I called Dillon and reported the new 'air-conditioned' hole in my bedroom and the lack of hot water in my shower. With the promise of a six-pack, he said he'd get right on it, after he installed new carpet in Mrs. Bestler's apartment and fixed Mr. Wolesky's clogged drain.

I didn't have the motivation to put on any makeup, not even a swipe of mascara. With my luck, I'd poke my eye out.

I dressed for the cold dismal day by bundling up with several layers of shirts and sweaters, heavyweight denim jeans, two pairs of socks and my Doc Martens. I topped it off with a down jacket and a cashmere scarf I'd splurged on after cashing in my body receipt for bringing in the Burg's beloved candy man, Moses Bedemeir, a few weeks ago.

As it turned out, Mo wasn't the saint everyone thought he was. He'd been making underground corporal punishment porn movies. Many in the Burg still hated me for turning Mo in though—so drop my drawers, spank me and take a picture—it lasts longer.

Unfortunately, I was getting used to being the talk of the town, especially after my involvement with Stiva's torched funeral parlor fiasco last October.

I glanced in the mirror before I walked out the door. I looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy in a frizzy fright wig. Just the look I was going for. I grabbed my Rangers ball cap and jammed it down over my frizzed curls.

McDonalds was my choice for a hot breakfast, but I couldn't get anyone to take my order. It was like I was invisible. At Tasty Pastry, I waited in line for twenty minutes and when it was my turn, the pastry lady decided it was time for a cigarette break. I finally got my dozen assorted and struggled through rush hour traffic, which had slowed to a crawl by the heavy winds pushing the icy sleet sideways.

When I got to the bail bonds office and stepped out of my car, a speeding van splashed me head to foot with icy cold salty slush the color of drain goo. Freezing and in need of a sympathetic ear, I hurried into the warm office.

Lula grabbed the box of doughnuts out of my hands before the door had even hit me in the butt. "Well, Good Morning to you, too," I huffed. Lula and Connie shot me blank stares and started arguing over the lone jelly doughnut. My sleazebag of a cousin, Vinnie, darted out of his office, grabbed three glazed and then scurried back slamming the door in my face.

I should've stayed in bed. If I were smart I would slink back home, draw the covers over my head and hibernate until spring. Do I have a smart Stephanie inside me? There's a sugar-hungry Steph, there's a sex-starved Steph and I've met Stupid Steph a time or two.

Thinking it over, my bank account was looking anorexic, my rent was due and I had two more months of payments to make on my POS Honda Civic. There was no food in my apartment, not even a glob of peanut butter. I didn't think olive juice and hamster crunchies would satisfy my growling stomach. Going back to bed wasn't an option.

I finally got Connie to stop inhaling her second cruller long enough to pay me some attention. "I only have one job for you today, Steph. Bringing her in will pay a nice percentage, but she's a nasty SOB, or should I say 'DOB'...since she's somebody's daughter?Her name's Irene Ballchuk. She owns a lumber company down by the river and in a fit of anger she ran over one of her employees with a forklift truck, then backed up and did it again."

I cringed at the mental image and took a comforting bite of a powdered doughnut.

Connie continued, "After Vinnie bailed her out of jail, she refused to come to court, saying she was within her rights and the 'incompetent schmuck' got what he deserved. It seems he stacked the 1" by 10" pine boards too close to the 2" by 10"s and then Irene's nephew sold the 2" boards for the 1" price. She wouldn't admit a family member could make a mistake, so she punished the stacker. This poor minimum wage employee is now in the hospital with a crushed pelvis, two broken legs and, of course, no company health insurance."

"What a total bitch! I'm going to enjoy bringing her in." I checked my stun gun to make sure it had a full charge. I had a feeling I might need it. In fact, I might make sure I'd need it.

I reached for the Ballchuk file, but nearly dropped it as an intense itch tickled the back of my neck. Weird. Connie stopped talking mid-sentence and her eyes fixated on something over my shoulder. From the far end of the room I heard Lula swear, "Hot Damn!" as the armful of files she was carrying spilled to the floor.

Even through all my layers of clothes, I felt a wave of heat rush down my back. I turned and collided with a wall of black leather.

"Babe."

Taking a step back I looked up into the gorgeous chocolate brown eyes of my bounty hunter 'mentor,' Ranger Mañoso. His long dark hair was slicked back and tied at the base of his neck with a leather thong. A gold stud shone from his left earlobe.

I licked the powdered sugar from my lips as my hungry gaze took in the rest of his hard muscled body clad in a tight long-sleeve black t-shirt and black cargo pants tucked into black boots. His eyes cut to my wet lips as he brushed a stray curl from my forehead.

More heat flooded my body, this time spreading lower than my back. Stop, Steph. Remember, you've given up men. Rex is all the male you need. Yeah, like that crap's gonna fly while I'm standing in front of this Cuban Sex God!

The corner of Ranger's mouth turned up ever so slightly, but I knew I hadn't said that out loud. I was almost positive. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks and knew it was time to beat a hasty retreat.

Two could play the one word game, though. "Ranger," I mumbled, clutching the file to my chest and sprinting for the door.

Ranger was already there opening it for me. I had a depressing feeling this brief moment of chivalry was going to be the best part of my day.

I trudged through the thickening slush and retreated to the silence of my car. Could this day get any worse? Looking through the office window I saw Connie laughing while Ranger turned to look my way. 'They're NOT laughing at me,' I told myself. Dejected, I drove off to find the Ballchuk Lumber Company.