by BWWM Club
“I have a delivery.”
You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought. She popped one eye open to see a shirtless Josh standing there with her mimosa. “You know, today was supposed to be relaxing and you’re making that pretty difficult.”
“You wound me,” he said, sitting in the spot next to her and handing the drink over.
“Really, I want to be left alone.”
“No, you don’t.”
She sighed. He wasn’t going to go anywhere, not that she really wanted him to, and the banter was fun. She grabbed her drink, swirling the straw around to stir the orange juice and champagne together. “It’s been a whopping five minutes, Josh. Did you miss me?”
He scooted closer to her, but was careful not to touch her. “I did.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of it.” Her tongue flicked out to get the straw and as she wrapped her lips around it, she peered up at him from her lashes.
But the look he was giving her made the straw pop out of her mouth. “You’re dangerous, Ginger Lanton.” He rested his arms on the edge of the tub.
“How so?” she asked, knowing damn good and well what he meant. She just wanted to hear him say it.
“You’re smart, witty, sassy, sexy, strong−willed, caring, teasing…” he said, glancing down at the straw again.
“Tease? I am no such thing.” She smiled before taking a sip from the straw.
His thumb brushed her shoulder, over and over again, and she realized that he was touching her, rubbing those lazy circles on her shoulder blade like he had her lower back the night before. Her heart skipped a beat and for a moment she wondered if she should say anything. Did she want it to stop? No.
So she ignored it.
He didn’t answer her, instead he watched her like she was some kind of enigma while sipping his champagne. That sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s company. His thumb still skirted along her shoulder blade and the heat it caused made the water in the tub a few degrees hotter.
She rested her glass on the edge, turning towards him. It made him lift his hand and sit it in the water. “What do you want from this? I’m in my forties, a widow, and have two kids. You and I have bad history too—”
“No, you and my father have bad history. I had nothing to do with that. You’re painting me with the same brush and I’m trying to prove to you that I’m nothing like that. And I’m a man in my forties, I’ve never been married, nor have I had kids. I think it’s refreshing that you do. It means you lived a part of your life that I never have. I’d like to hear about it over dinner sometime.”
Her laugh echoed across the room. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“I already said I’m not a quitter.”
“So you did.”
She sank in the water until it touched the base of her neck. “So, why didn’t you ever get married or have kids if it's so important to you. By the way, I’m done having kids. If you’re looking for that, this Mama’s tubes are tied. I’m done.”
His laugh reminded her of something, anything, that she wanted to hear every day for the rest of her life. That scared her. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his smile was so bright it made her heart happy. He was infectious—in a really great way. “I was always focused on the company. I was one of those kids that looked forward to running the family business. My time and energy went into that and becoming more educated so the company could succeed, but the last few years have been the most time consuming. I’ve had to clean up after my father. He did a lot of illegal things. It made me really regret looking forward to working for a company that I admired, only to find out the man behind it was a joke. He let me waste my life to follow in his footsteps and to clean up his mess. Now, my mom is in the hospital and things have started to slow down and I’ve actually had time to think about what the hell I’m doing with my life.”
Without thinking, she placed her hand on his leg, trying to be a good friend. Then she felt the strong muscle of his thigh flex and it made her gulp. She swallowed the lust down and focused on forming her thoughts into words. “Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t know. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve turned the company around. I’m sorry to hear about your mother, but you know, you have to start living for yourself. At least, that’s what my sons told me when they dragged me away from Georgia.”
“They did? How?” He sounded intrigued.
“Jamal had followed me to his father’s grave. I had gone to it every Sunday for twenty years. I’d talk to him, the stone, or whatever you want to call it. I liked to believe he was listening though. Anyway, one day Jamal met me there and I'd been crying like usual. He said they wanted to leave because they wanted me to be able to move on and live again. They thought they were doing right by me by letting visit his grave, but I ended up just digging myself further and further into misery and guilt. They sat me down and told me they'd found my scrapbook of the place I wanted to live. I had magazine clipping and all that—”
“New Orleans.”
She nodded her head. “They found this apartment. Right on the French quarter, it was everything I'd ever dreamed of. They thought I was crazy because I wanted to be around the nightlife, but I think the nightlife is really beautiful, watching all those young people live their lives and have fun. I didn’t have that, maybe I feel like I’m living through them, I don’t know. But I left with my sons and they transferred schools and everything—for me. And I feel happier than I have in twenties years. So, sometimes, you just have to live for yourself and move on. I didn’t think I’d make it my first month. I thought I’d go back, but eventually I started to feel this weight come off my chest and I could breathe again. Maybe that’s what you should do, figure out what that weight is.”
“Your boys are smart men.”
“I’m proud of them.”
“I’m trying to live the way I want, but there’s this one person who keeps stopping me.”
“Well, you don’t need that person in your life then,” she scoffed.
“Oh, but I do. I get a really good feeling about her. She's scared; she talks about moving on with her life but she won’t move on with me because of fear.”
“Josh…”
“It’s simple. We can tackle everything as it comes, but I need to have a chance with her. I feel like I’ll finally be able to breathe if she says yes.”
She swallowed her emotions, not able to look him in the eyes.
“I want us to be able to start a new chapter together. It might not end with us writing books upon books together, but I have a good feeling it might because I get a real good feeling about her, something that doesn’t happen to often anymore.”
“The boys—”
“It will be a challenge, but I think we can get through it.” He swam closer to her, until they were nose−to−nose. The jets created swirls and foam around them. Steam rose and created a light veil, making it seem like they were in their own little world.
“You’re everything I’ve fought against.”
“No, I’m everything you’re fighting for. I’m what you want, and I can be if you let me. Just let me.” He inched closer, turning his head so their lips were lined up perfectly. All it would take would be for her to lean forward and meet those lips that had been haunting her dreams for the past few days.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, running his nose over hers.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations and trying to will herself to just kiss him, to just grab him and kiss him, but she didn’t have the courage. She hadn’t been that demanding since Kendrick.
“Will you give me a chance?” The words ghosted across her lips.
She opened her eyes to see his dark green orbs staring at her mouth, waiting for her to form the words. “One date?”
“Just one, to show you how amazing I am, and then you’re going to want a second date.”
She pushed him away and splashed him, laughing at his conceited words. “You’re so full
of yourself.”
He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her close, until their bodies were aligned. He rubbed his thumb down her cheek making her eyes flutter. “Because I have a good feeling about you.”
This time when he leaned forward, she met him. The kiss was light, unsure, and overwhelming. Her lips tingled and the hair on her arms stood, like she was cold, but being in his arms made her feel alive and warm.
And that scared the hell out of her.
Chapter 7
Josh
Finally.
He had the woman he'd been dying to taste in his arms kissing him back. His cock was hard and leaking. It didn’t matter that the hot tub they were in was nearly boiling, it didn’t stop his erection from digging into her thigh.
Her hands pushed against his chest, breaking the best kiss he'd ever had in his life. “I can’t do this.” She breathed at an abnormally fast rate and his eyes were hooked on her cleavage tightening against the tight swimsuit when her chest rose and fell.
He shook away the thoughts and saw her eyes tearing. “I’m sorry. We moved too fast. I can go slower.”
“No. I can’t do this. I feel like I’m cheating on him.”
Kendrick.
Her dead husband. He understood and he'd never been in that situation before, so he couldn’t fully sympathize. All he could think about was the fact it had been twenty years, but he couldn’t say that. That would make him an inconsiderate asshole. “You aren’t cheating on him. Remember what we just talked about? How about this, one date.” He held up his finger. “One date, no kissing. Just two friends enjoying each other’s company and if you decide you want more, I'll let you take the reins.”
“You don’t seem like the kind of man to give up the reins.”
“I’ll be that kind of man for you.”
“Why?”
“You make me want to be better,” he admitted, wiping his thumb over his bottom lip, still feeling the tingles of their kiss lingering.
“I don’t know, Josh.” She bit her bottom lip, contemplating.
He took a step back and sighed. He wasn’t a man that gave up easily, but he had no idea that competing with a man who wasn’t even there would be so difficult. She was loyal—to a fault. “I’m going to pick you up at eight tonight from your home, be ready.” He stood to get out of the hot tub, placing his hands on the edge and lifting himself out. The water dripped down, and he wiped his hands over his face. He grabbed the towel that was on the cart and started to dry himself off.
“Eight? Tonight?”
“Yep, we're going out. We're going to hit Bourbon Street.”
She smiled bright, a long−lost twinkle returned to her eyes. “Really?”
“Really? So, wear comfortable shoes.” He turned his back, readying himself to walk away. He needed space. He was horny, frustrated, sad, and guilty.
“I look forward to it—and I’m sorry, Josh.”
He peaked over his shoulder to look at her, and his breath caught. She was so beautiful. Her hair was up in a messy bun and a few pieces had fallen loose, tickling her shoulders and dancing on the water. She had no makeup on, not like she did at the office when her lips were painted red and her lashes were thick with mascara. He could see her, and he really liked what he saw. Smooth dark skin, hazel eyes, long chestnut hair. She was beautiful and his heart and mind were set on her. “Don’t be sorry, Ginger. I’ll have you falling in love with me in no time.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He smirked, walking away, leaving her to stare at his ass. He knew, even for his age, his ass was great. He did his best to keep in shape. He ran, lifted weights, and did squats. It was all in the squats. He made his way to the double glass doors and risked another peak back. She wasn’t looking at him, instead she was staring off into the distance like something weighed on her mind. He hoped she thought of them and how good they could be together, but he couldn’t push anymore. He could only hope she saw what he did.
He made his way to the locker room and took a quick shower, lathering up his body with the lemongrass soap the spa provided. His cock was half hard and Josh knew that if he paid attention to the area too much, he would be stroking one out in the men’s locker room, and that was no−no. So, he turned off the shower, grabbed another towel, and made his way to the locker. He didn’t have his own private locker. He wanted to know what people thought of the spa or what could be improved. What better way than finding out in the locker room?
When he the digital combination into the lock, he opened the door and the first thing he did was grab his cell phone and see he'd a few missed called. He cursed when he saw it was the hospital. He quickly called back, and it rang, rang, and rang. “Come on. Come on.” He bounced on the heals of his feet, waiting impatiently. “New Orleans General. How can I help you?”
“I need to speak to Dr. Wetherell right away please. This is Mr. Hart.”
“Of course, Mr. Hart. One moment, I’ll transfer you.” She hurried, and he waited. He hated to wait. He wasn’t the kind of man who did that. If he wanted something, he got it immediately because he had the means, but when it came to this, waiting was the only option.
“Mr. Hart. So glad to have you on the phone.”
“What’s going on? Is my mother okay?” He waited, holding his breath, preparing himself for the worst news.
“She woke up and has been asking for you. Good news, indeed.”
He sagged against the locker and held the phone out so the doctor couldn’t hear him gasping for breath and holding back his tears. He slammed his fist against the locker with relief and frustration. Frustration because the one person he wanted to tell he couldn’t. Relief because his mom had finally woken up. He put the phone back to his ear and sighed. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a half hour to see her.”
“I’ll let her know.”
He hung up the phone and got dressed in a hurry. He didn’t even bother tucking his shirt in. He'd been waiting for days for her to wake up. To be honest, he thought he'd lost her and his last memory of them together would have been of them arguing about his father. He was so glad they were able to make more now.
“Phone, keys, wallet.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had everything and ran out the door.
“Mr. Hart? Is everything okay?” Tina asked, batting her eye lashes. She was pretty, in a basic way, something that didn’t interest him.
“Fine, just in a hurry. Have a good day.” He ran out the door and clicked the button for his Aston Martin. He might not have his own locker, but he had his own parking spot, and what sat in it grumbled from the power in the engine. He felt the vibrations in his feet. If there was something else that could get his cock hard—other than a woman—in less than a second, it would be this car. The slim vehicle was smooth, aerodynamic, and futuristic looking. It had a matte black finish, red seats, and a growl that was deeper than a jaguar. He felt powerful behind the wheel.
He spun out of the parking lot with his hazards on and made his way to the hospital. The normally fifteen-minute ride lasted only seven with how fast he was going. He pulled into a spot and jumped out, running to the front desk. “I’m here to see my mother. Gloria Hart. I heard she woke up.”
“Of course. The doctor said you were on your way. You can go right up.”
“Thank you” He slapped the counter and ran to the elevator and started tucking in his shirt. Jeez, he was a mess. His mother would skin his hide if she saw him right now. The elevator dinged as the doors opened and he got on, pressing the button over and over again, hoping it would make things move quicker. And he didn’t want anyone else on the elevator with him. He hated awkward, elevator silence. The awful music played above him in the lone speaker and he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to seem like a successful billionaire. Once they doors opened again he flew out of them, and sprinted to her room.
The lights illuminated the white tile, reflecting into his eyes and causing him moment
ary blindness, but it didn’t stop him. He didn’t even stop at her door, he flew right in and skidded to a stop. There she was. Gloria Margaret Hart. She sat up in bed, brushing her hair and she already had on a face mask.
“Well, Joshua. Where’s the fire? Are you alright?” She seemed baffled.
He rolled his eyes and strolled towards her, bending down to embrace her in a big bear hug. He didn’t care about the face mask and if it got on his shirt. “You’re awake.”
“Oh.” He heard the emotion in her voice. She was surprised. They weren’t the kind of family to show affection, but he didn’t care. She hugged back, squeezing him tight. “I’m alright, Joshy.”
He hadn’t heard that nickname since he was a boy. “You scared the hell out of me, mom,” he whispered, clutching her like a long-lost memory.
“You better watch your language. I’m not dead…yet,” she scolded, pulling back to stare him in the face and give him a serious look.
His eyes welled with tears as he shook his head. “That’s not funny, mom. I thought you were going to die. You hadn’t woken up. How do you feel? Do you need anything? Let me get the doctor.” He straightened and turned to walk out the door when she grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks.
“I can’t really move my left arm, but the doctor knows that, I’m lucky that my speech is as great as it is. Could you get me some water?”
“Of course.” He rushed to the pitcher, fumbling with the small plastic cup. His hands were shaking. He wasn’t nervous, but damn, the fear had come rushing to him all at once. This past week he'd been so afraid he would have to start planning funeral arrangements. Unlike his father, his mother had been his best friend growing up. She'd been kind, smart, and nurturing. He didn’t know what he would do without his mom, but this, her being in the hospital, slammed home that his time with his mom was inching closer to an end.
“Honey, calm down. I’m okay.”
