by Francis Ray
“Yes, sir, and the loads are moving in and out on schedule. No vandalism.”
“Good. Please call ahead and have Peters meet me at the loading dock. Tell him to be prepared for a full inspection.”
“Yes, sir.”
The gates swung open and he cruised through. For the time being, he’d have to put thoughts of Claire on hold. All fifteen of the loading dock spaces had an eighteen-wheeler parked in front. He bounded up the steel steps leading inside the first of two warehouses.
“Thinking about getting on the road again, Gray?”
“Hello, Carl,” he said as the brawny figure of his old friend approached. Carl Sanders was six feet of solid muscles and had hands the size of dinner plates.
“I’m leaving in thirty, heading down to Jacksonville. Remember those good times we had?”
“Good and wild,” Gray said with a wry twist of his mouth. Carl could outdrink, outcurse, and outfight any man who had the misfortune to cross him. “I thought grandmother was going to have granddad fire you and scrub my mouth when I came back from that trip to Texas, chewing tobacco, when I was sixteen.”
“Made a man out of you.” Carl moved a wad of tobacco from one cheek to the other.
Gray stuck out his hand to greet the best driver Livingston employed. His safety and delivery record attested to that. Gray, Sanders’s wife and his adult children had long since given up trying to get him to kick the chewing habit. His comeback was that he had to die of something. “Good to see you.”
Carl nodded toward Gray’s knit shirt, softly washed jeans and loafers. “Gotta say you look better out of those fancy suits you’ve been wearing since they made a big shot out of you.”
Gray slid four fingers into the front pocket of the jeans he’d had to scrounge in his closet to find. “I plan to do a full inspection of the plant.”
Carl eyed his boss. “You could walk though a pile of manure and come out squeaky clean and smelling like a rose, just like your grandmother. Pull the other leg.”
“I do believe you’re insinuating your boss is not telling the truth.”
Carl shook his dark head and smiled. “You don’t have to lie. You’re good enough at twisting the truth and leaving out to make lying unnecessary and not as much fun.”
Gray folded his arms across his broad chest. “I think you’ve just insulted me.”
“And I think you were hiding something, and I want to know what her name is?”
Gray’s expression didn’t change. Out of the corner of his eye Gray saw the plant supervisor hurrying toward them. “You better hide yourself. Peters is bearing down on us and if I’m not mistaken, no type of tobacco is to be consumed on the premises. I signed the memo myself.”
“Damn. Later.”
“Later,” Gray said with a smile. What good were rules if you couldn’t bend them once in a while for a friend? he thought as he greeted the plant supervisor. The thing that bothered him was, how had Carl known there was a woman involved?
* * *
Hamilton had known this would happen.
“Hamilton, sweetheart, I won’t be home until around ten tonight. I can’t wait to tell you how fabulously the day went.”
His finger jabbed the delete button on the answering machine. Lorraine knew how he hated coming home to an empty house. Before she had the crazy idea of opening a shop, she had kept those times to a minimum. Now, that had changed.
He glanced at his diamond encrusted Rolex. Six-thirteen. Setting his attaché case on the granite counter he went in search of the food Lorraine always left on those rare occasions she would be gone when he arrived. The refrigerator was well stocked, but there was nothing with a note attached with heating instructions. Closing the door, he stalked to the phone and jabbed in her cell number.
“Hello, Hamilton. Can you hold on a minute?”
She’d sounded breathless. Why was she breathless? His hand gripped the phone tighter. Lorraine was too honest to even think about having an affair. But he’d also thought she was thoroughly happy and satisfied in their marriage.
“Sorry, it’s been hectic here.”
“Where are you? Why aren’t you home?”
“I’m at the store,” she told him. “We decided to put the Web site address in the window since there’s been so much attention for the window display. We’re already getting hits. Claire is setting up a chat for Friday night to discuss the products. Isn’t this wonderful?”
“I want you to come home immediately.” There was a long silence. “Lorraine, did you hear me?”
“Hamilton, the other night … I thought you understood.”
“It’s you who doesn’t understand,” he told her, refusing to be swayed by the memory of her beneath him, loving him so sweetly, so completely. “Your place is here at home with me.”
“The products—”
“I do not want to hear about some idiotic marketing plan that claims to be better than sex or some soap that lathers better than the rest. All I want to know is when you’re coming home.”
There was an unnerving moment of silence, then, “With that attitude I may not come home at all.”
A frisson of fear raced through him. He forced himself to relax. “Lorraine, don’t be silly. Just come home.”
“To think I was considering bringing home Peach Meringue tonight.”
He thought he heard her voice hitch, but couldn’t be sure. At least she hadn’t forgotten about his dinner. “Thanks for thinking of bringing home dessert, but there’s nothing else. Stop somewhere for takeout.”
“Hamilton.”
He was sure she was going to ask for forgiveness. Lorraine had always been sensible, if a bit stubborn. He was prepared to be magnanimous in his victory. “Yes?”
“Don’t hold your breath.” The phone disconnected.
Hamilton leaned heavily against the cabinet, the receiver still in his hand. As soon as the bookstore opened tomorrow he was going to pick up a couple of books on menopause. He wife was definitely going through a change.
* * *
“I guess I won’t need this after all.” Lorraine removed the jar of Peach Meringue whipped body cream from her oversized bag and placed it back on the shelf.
“Is there anything we can do?” Claire asked, turning from the computer screen in the back room.
“You name it and it’s done,” Brooke said, concerned as well.
Lorraine shook her head. “I feel so stupid after all the talking I did today. Our night meant nothing to him.”
“It’s a sad fact, but men think with their gonads and women with their hearts,” Brooke said philosophically. She glanced at Claire. “Perhaps you should have canceled your date with Gray. You’re already worried that he didn’t ask you out again.”
“I think I’d rather live life than be afraid of it,” Claire told her. “If he doesn’t ask, I’m considering asking him.”
Brooke bumped her shoulder against Claire’s. “Lorraine, I think we’ve created a monster.”
“I agree with Claire. Hamilton may be acting like a total ass, but I love him and refuse to regret that love although I’m very angry with him at the moment.” Lorraine folded her arms. “When I mentioned the Peach Meringue he thought I was talking about dessert and asked me to bring takeout.”
“Typical,” Brooke made a face.
“What are you going to do?” Claire asked.
Lorraine unfolded her arms. “Teach Hamilton a lesson. I won’t be treated like an imbecile, and he can’t run my life.” She picked up the jar she had just placed on the shelf. “I’m taking the Peach Meringue home after all and I plan to rub it all over my body in full view of my husband, then go to sleep. Alone.”
Brooke nodded with approval. “Dirty, but effective.”
“You’re sure you want to do that?” Claire asked, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“Yes, and I’m not going to let you talk me out of it.”
Claire leaned back in her chair. “On the contrary, I was
going to suggest you take the bath and body gel and the soap as well. When Hamilton goes in the bathroom in the morning faint traces of the fragrance will linger through the night. He’ll remember and regret.”
Brooke whooped. “You might be a later bloomer, but you learn fast.”
Claire smiled. “I’m trying.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Bliss was taking shape.
Claire, Lorraine and Brooke had put in twelve-hour days to ensure they met the opening date. After the excitement of the first day they decided to keep the interest in the products high by intensifying the displays.
On Wednesday, Brooke had been able to “borrow” a claw-foot tub from an antique dealer a couple of doors down to place beneath her photo. They’d filled the tub with packing peanuts to resemble soap foam. On a tray across the tub was an assortment of bath and beauty products. Nearby, one of Brooke’s peach-colored negligees was draped over an antique vanity chair from Lorraine’s bedroom. In front of the tub was the caption, “Step into Bliss.”
The next day, beneath the picture of Brooke and John, the scene was seductive instead of relaxing. A faux fireplace was constructed out of material purchased at a home improvement store and placed against the structural wall so it wouldn’t impede the view into the shop. On top of the mantel were two crystal candlesticks and a crystal frame with a small picture of Brooke and John. Directly in front were a crystal decanter and two wine glasses on a sterling silver tray. The caption read, “A Blissful Night Ahead.”
Beneath all the crystal and the tray was a discreet price tag. They wanted the customer to be able to create her own blissful area at home using products and merchandise from Bliss.
By Friday, they were nervous and excited about the chat that night. By tacit agreement, they didn’t discuss the men in their lives as they worked to get everything ready. Lorraine was the only one who could actually claim a man and she was being cordial, tempting Hamilton every chance she got, and leaving him to his own devices in taking care of himself.
A growl sounded over the soft sounds of the jazz playing on the radio. Claire smiled and rubbed her stomach. “Sorry.”
Lorraine stretched her arms over her head. “Don’t be. I’m hungry, too.”
“I refuse to eat another sandwich.” Brooke leaned against the shelf she was filling. “I say we treat ourselves to a nice lunch where we can sit without our elbows and knees knocking against each other.”
“The card table isn’t so bad,” Lorraine said, then wrinkled her nose at the look of disbelief on Brooke’s face. “All right. I’m tired of it, too.”
“I vote we go to lunch and enjoy it.” Claire glanced at her watch. “Twelve-fifteen. We’ve been at this steady since seven this morning. The chat is at six.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Brooke grabbed her purse.
“You won’t need that. I’m buying,” Claire said. “My last check from Middleton was in the mailbox when I got home last night.”
Lorraine started to object and insist on paying until she saw the determined look on Claire’s face. “Thank you,” she said instead.
“Let me refresh my makeup and I’ll be right with you. Might have a male waiter who can give us a hook-up.” Brooke dashed into the small bathroom in the back.
“Brooke certainly has a way with men,” Claire said as the two women strolled to the front of the store to wait. “I envy her sometimes. She always knows what to say, and how to charm them.”
“If that’s the case, why did Randolph dump me?”
Claire spun around. “Brooke, I’m sorry.”
She waved the words aside. “I thought I had all the answers, too, but I’m not so sure anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the benefits this face and body give me, but I never thought much of how other people see me.”
“Until John?” Claire guessed.
Brooke shrugged her shoulders in her black DKNY ribbed tank top. “I hate to admit it, but sometimes I catch myself thinking about him. Then I want to kick myself and him for making me doubt myself.”
“Men are experts at that. I’ve been there.” Lorraine wrinkled her mouth. “Who am I trying to fool? I’m still there. Thomas can be so encouraging and Hamilton such a goose.”
They were silent as they left the store and started down the street. “Why aren’t men straightforward and logical like science and computers?” Claire wanted to know.
Brooke hooked her arm with Claire’s. “Because, although we get the rap, men aren’t logical.”
“You can say that again,” Lorraine put in.
Going into the same restaurant where Claire and Gray had eaten, they sat in a booth. A waiter promptly appeared to take their orders. After the young man learned it was Brooke’s first time there, he insisted on treating her to their famous buttermilk pie for dessert. He’d make sure it was big enough for her to share. Smiling he left to turn in their food orders. Almost immediately another young man served them their drinks.
Claire looked across the table at her friends’ gloomy expressions. “We’re getting free dessert, excellent service, yet we don’t make a blissful-looking picture.”
“Some men can sure mess up your day,” Brooke said and lifted her glass of iced tea. “To more blissful days ahead.”
Claire picked up her glass. “To making things happen instead of letting them happen to us.”
“To staying the course no matter how long or how difficult.” Lorraine touched her glass to theirs. “To success in and out of the bedroom.”
Claire didn’t hesitate repeating the toast. She had already begun working on the former, maybe it was time to get back to working on the latter.
* * *
“Mr. Livingston, Ms. Bennett is here to see you.”
Gray’s gaze zipped back to the speakerphone, forgetting the report on his desk.
“Sir?”
He heard the question in his secretary’s voice. She expected him to have Claire sent in immediately. He’d told her that Claire was to have immediate access to him at any time. Being his secretary for the past five years she hadn’t questioned his request nor had her face shown any indication that it was the first time he had given such a dictate. He’d always kept women at a polite distance. Even in intimacy, he always kept a part to himself.
“I can come back if he’s busy,” he heard Claire say.
Gray could almost visualize Claire chewing on her soft lower lip. That was the trouble, he could visualize too much about Claire and what he could do to her and with her. He’d finally figured out what Carl had seen the other day. He had been halfway through his plant inspection when he realized he was smiling at everything. He wasn’t a dour person by any means, but he didn’t normally go around smiling at nothing.
Being with Claire made him happy. He just didn’t want it to make him a fool.
“Mrs. Hodge, please tell Ms. Bennett I’ll call her later.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but she’s already gone.”
“What!” He jerked upright in his chair.
“She mouthed ‘bye’ and left.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” He knew he was being irrational, but couldn’t seem to help it.
“Shall I have security see if she’s left the building?”
He didn’t want to scare her. The trouble was he didn’t know what he wanted with an inexperienced woman like Claire Bennett. “No. Did she say what she wanted?”
“With you, sir?”
He held on to his unraveling temper with sheer force of will. It wasn’t his secretary’s fault that for once in his life he wasn’t sure which direction he wanted to take. “You did say she wanted to see me, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir, but Claire—Ms. Bennett, brought me a gift.”
Gray was out of his chair and out the connecting door in three seconds. He spied the squat jar in peach netting tied with satin ribbon and a tiny peach-colored flower on his secretary’s desk the moment he opened door. “I wasn’t aware you knew Claire.”
“I didn’t,” Mrs. Hodge explained, placing a possessive hand over the jar as if she expected Gray to take it from her. “She called the other day and you weren’t in. I happened to have just lotioned my hands and commented how it didn’t seem to help with my dry skin. She said she had something that might help.”
“She told you about Bliss?”
His secretary’s blank stare was his answer. “No, sir. I tried to pay her, but she said that was all right. She…” Her voice trailed off.
“Finish it.”
Mrs. Hodge’s hand flexed on the top of the jar. “She said she could never repay you for what you did for her so the least she could do was return the favor to your secretary.” Her hand slid the cream to the far corner of her desk. “Do you want me to look up her address and return it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You think I’ve gone off the deep end, Phyllis?”
“You haven’t been your best since you came in Wednesday morning,” she frankly admitted. Five years with an exemplary evaluation did give you some privileges.
“Go on. Open it up and tell me what you think of the product.”
A big smile on her face, she oohed and aahed about the pretty wrapping, then dipped a finger into the creamy substance and rubbed it on her hands. The soft scent of peach wafted up. “Oh, it feels as good on my skin as it smells. Forgive me, sir, but I’m glad you didn’t have me send it back. I wonder where she bought it.”
“She made it.”
Phyllis jerked her head up and around. Her sharp mind didn’t take long to figure it out. “Bliss.”
“Bliss.”
His secretary’s eyes looked more avaricious than his grandmother’s when she went on and on about the products.
“Claire and a couple of friends have a store on East Bay Street. I’m sure she’d appreciate you spreading the word.” He had almost seven hundred employees and the majority were women.
“Leave it to me, sir. By the way, after your next meeting, in about ten minutes, your schedule is clear until nine-fifteen in the morning and there’s a flower shop down the street from here.”
“Thanks for reminding me why I hired you.”
* * *
