Barefoot at Midnight (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 3)

by Roxanne St Claire

  But she rocked under the covers, and his hard-on felt only her body, and grew with need. She tugged at his T-shirt, which he yanked over his head and tossed. As he stepped out of his jeans and boxers, she shimmied out of her bottoms.

  “Come in here,” she said, pushing back the covers. He climbed into the bed with her, kissed her as he helped her out of her top and bra, and finally pulled her fully naked body against his.

  Where it belonged.

  “You left some condoms here,” she whispered, stroking his chest, his stomach, and reaching to wrap her hands around his erection.

  He grunted softly, closing his eyes as heat rolled through him.

  “I’m optimistic like that.” He kissed her again, then worked his mouth down her chest to taste more of her. “Let’s use them all.”

  “And send Jasmine out for more,” she teased.

  He lifted his head. “She went to Noah’s house. But if you want we can call and send her to the Super Min and ask Charity for a few boxes. That’s a conversation I’d like to hear.”

  Laughing, she pulled him back into her for more kisses. “Quit being so much fun and make love to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And don’t call me ma’am or you might die. Our combined age is ninety, you know.”

  “Ninety-one,” he corrected. “We’re clearly on borrowed time.”

  “Then make the most of it,” she ordered.

  Still smiling, he closed his eyes and found more places to kiss and explore, more ways to make her moan and writhe and, of course, lose all control. It took less than five minutes to make her come.

  “You have a hair-trigger orgasm response, Lib,” he told her as he held her shuddering body.

  “Only when your finger is on the trigger.” She recovered enough to make her own path down his body, taking him into her mouth, torturing him by bringing him to the brink, and finally letting him climb on top and slide into heaven.

  He filled her up, rocking into each stroke with his eyes squeezed shut, pleasure licking every inch of him. She smelled sweet and spicy and felt hot and creamy around him, and Law felt his whole body clutch with need.

  Their tongues curled and imitated the movement of their bodies, in and out, sweet and wet, as his hands finally stilled and just held her shoulders for stability. Above her, he watched her face flush and listened to the tender pleas and promises that spilled from her lips.

  Need pressed with each stroke, building in him, driving him, inflaming him. He finally had to close his eyes and hang on as she took him closer and closer to the edge. Pleasure swelled and overwhelmed him, but he fought the release until he opened his eyes and saw that she was right there with him. Frantic. Lost. Holding on to her last thread until it broke.

  He came with her, a glorious, heady, raw sensation that made him throb even harder with each thrust. He’d never experienced that before. He’d never experienced anything like this before.

  Catching his breath, he pushed up to look at her, that thought pounding in his head. Nothing like this. Nothing like Libby.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes, and he could swear he saw his own reflection in the stormy blue-gray color.

  It was a first, all right. First freaking love at forty-six. Who would have thought it was possible?

  “Wow,” he muttered as the reality slammed him like a cast-iron pan to the head.

  “Yeah, wow.” She laughed lightly. “Real words fail us.”

  But he knew the real word. He’d heard it all his life, but never had any idea what it felt like. Now he knew. It felt like Libby, like home, like peace and forever and contentment he’d never even thought was possible.

  Talk about an infiltration plan. She’d climbed right inside his heart and taken ownership instead of the other way around. He wasn’t going to be satisfied as Libby’s business partner…he wanted to be her partner in every way.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  In…and…out. In…and…out.

  Each breath cleansed Libby’s body more. And considering all her weight was on her head and forearms with her feet pointed straight in the air, she was remarkably balanced. An earthquake wouldn’t knock her over now.

  But that wasn’t yoga. That was…Law.

  Upside down, Libby smiled, embracing the perfection of the moment. Of the past six days, actually. She had never been happier in her life.

  From the bed they’d shared for the better part of those six days, Law moved and let out a sleepy groan. “Where did you go?”

  “On the floor. Doing a headstand.”

  “Naked?” She heard him shift and the mattress moan as he sat up. “This I gotta see.”

  She laughed and wobbled. “Not naked.”

  “Mmm. Sports bra and panties. Close to naked. How the hell do you do that?”

  She tightened her core. “Breathing. Practice. Concentration, which you are ruining.”

  “Why are you out there and not in here, Lib? We have a big day today. We need to start it off with a bang.”

  She laughed but didn’t tilt. “Yes, we have a big day today, and I need to start it off with my spine aligned, my circulation improved, and my heart rate at a nice pace.”

  “All that is waiting for you, right here in this bed.” He slipped out and walked over to her, and he was naked. And hard.

  She wobbled. “Damn you, Lawless.”

  He caught her legs and stood right in front of her, pressing himself against her upside-down thighs. “Here’s one we haven’t tried yet.”

  “A miracle considering we’ve spent the last week reenacting the Kama Sutra.”

  “You and your eastern influence.” He kissed the tip of her big toe and let her go. “Don’t move. Gotta hit the head.”

  As he disappeared into the bathroom, Libby found her balance again, closing her eyes to enjoy the rush of blood to her head and the cleansing that inversion always gave her.

  “Shit.” He popped out of the bathroom, wiping toothpaste from his mouth. “I don’t have a freaking suit. It’s at the restaurant with my bags, I think.”

  Slowly, she lowered her legs to the floor but kept her head down to avoid getting dizzy. “Do you need a suit?”

  “I don’t want to waltz into some courtroom in support of you and maybe have to talk to a judge about how the business has run in khaki shorts and a T-shirt.”

  The blood settled and moved out of her head, clearing it enough for her to think about the timing. “That would make us late to meet Sam.”

  But he was looking at her funny, his head at an angle, his eyes soft.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” He took a few steps closer and reached for her hand, tugging her up. “Sometimes when I look at you, I can’t even breathe.”

  She smiled. “All those yoga classes with me and you still can’t breathe?”

  “All these days and nights with you and I still can’t…believe it.”

  “Believe what?”

  “This.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, which was hard and solid and comforting and…home.

  She laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “Believe it.”

  He stroked her hair with a slow, sweet, tender touch that sometimes made her heart fold even more than when his hands were hot and demanding. Anytime Law touched her, it affected her.

  And this was no different. She lifted her face to look at him and gasped softly when she saw his eyes were moist. “Law? What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head, a silent denial of what she could see. “It was the mirror that got me.”

  “What?”

  “I looked in the mirror,” he said.

  “And got a little choked up over all the laugh lines I’ve given you?”

  “No.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Most of my life, when I looked in the mirror, I had to brace for what would be looking back at me.”

  “Law, you’re one of the best-looking creatures on earth.”

  �
�It has nothing to do with looks, and you, of all people, should understand that.”

  She nodded slowly, listening.

  “For a lot of years, I looked at a man I loathed. A hungover, wretched, dried-up soul,” he said, his voice ragged. “Then, for a decade or more, I didn’t see him, but the man in the mirror was hollow, with no…luster. Jake died, and I saw grief and frustration and emptiness. And then…now…” His voice cracked, and so did Libby’s heart.

  “Now what do you see?” she asked.

  He tipped her chin as if he needed to get her face closer. “It scares the hell out of me, Libby, but I see…hope. A home with you. A business, a life, a future.”

  She felt her eyes fill, too.

  “I see something I never, ever want to quit.” He closed his eyes, and a tear squeezed out.

  “Oh, Law.” She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “I see it, too.”

  They kissed, a whole new kiss, an open, honest, heartbreaking kiss that Libby would never forget as long as she lived. Slowly, he backed her to the bed, because there simply wasn’t any other place to take this.

  Outside her door, she heard footsteps on the stairs, the sound of Jasmine going down to the kitchen.

  “Jasmine’s going with us,” Libby said. “But she’s driving herself in case she has to cut out early. Why don’t I drive with her and you take my car and meet us there after you get your suit? Sam wanted me to come a little early, but you don’t have to.”

  He frowned. “Why do it that way?”

  She pushed him the rest of the way to the bed. “So we have time to seal that beautiful declaration you just made.”

  “You want a declaration?” he said.

  “What I want is you on that bed.” She nudged him back. “And my fabulous idea buys us some time.”

  But he didn’t move, looking at her so seriously for a man who was about to get quick and dirty morning sex. “But I want to make a declaration.” He took her face in his hands. “I’ve never told anyone this, ever. You are the first woman I’ve ever said this to.”

  All Libby could do was stare as blood pumped in her head, all the benefits of the inversion gone just by looking into his eyes.

  “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you.”

  She pressed on her chest, stunned and joyful and so, so happy. “Law. I can’t even breathe.”

  “All those yoga classes and you can’t breathe?” he teased, echoing her words.

  “All these years and finally, finally…” She closed her eyes. “I love you, too.”

  They fell on the bed together and made that love official.

  * * *

  Upstairs in the darkened room that had, on more than one occasion, protected him from the world, Law sifted through a stack of dry-cleaning bags he hadn’t looked at in months. God, maybe more.

  A suit! Thank you, God. He ripped at the plastic, realizing the last time he had this suit on was Jake’s funeral.

  Well, that was fitting. As he tossed the plastic down, he noticed the world-famous Ritz-Carlton logo hit the floor. Damn, he hadn’t turned down the job yet.

  He’d gotten the official offer by email days ago and had even shown it to Libby, teasing her about the possibility of accepting it.

  But over the last few days, they’d worked out a much better business plan than him working for the Ritz in Arizona. Now they had a real plan.

  Stripping out of the clothes he’d worn, he glanced around the space that would be a yoga studio after they closed this deal. Yes, they had contingency plan after contingency plan in place. If Sam won the judge over today, she’d own it and they’d split it. If he lost and some heir showed up, they’d make an offer. If they had to wait a year, they’d move forward with the combo place, anyway or, hell, find something else.

  By now, they were committed to the Twisted Pelican. And after this morning, he thought with a smile, they were committed to each other. And Law couldn’t be happier.

  He froze in the act of buttoning his shirt, frowning at a noise downstairs.

  Was someone down there? Still barefoot and wearing only a shirt and pants, he walked silently to the door he’d left open, cocking his ear toward downstairs.

  He heard a thump, and a footstep, and another thump, and a footstep.

  What the hell?

  Staying silent to be sure he had at least the element of surprise on his side, he walked down the stairs, certain the sound was coming from the dining room. Shoot, he’d walked in the front door and hadn’t locked it behind him. Someone thought the place was open? At seven in the morning?

  He got to the bottom step and listened to the distinctive sound of something rubber hitting the dining area floor, then a slow step, then a repeat. He turned the corner, passed the closet, and stepped into the doorway to peer into the dimly lit area.

  There, crossing the room, was a little old lady with a walker.

  “Can I help you?” Law stepped into the dining room, blinking at the hunched-over silhouette against the front window’s morning light.

  She turned to him. “Oh, there you are. I hoped you’d be down nice and early.”

  He recognized her from the other night. The old ladies from Naples. Regulars, but he didn’t recall her name. She was the oldest of a group he’d chatted with the second night he and Libby were serving dinner. “I’m so sorry,” he said gently, coming closer, wondering if maybe she thought it was seven at night and not in the morning. “We’re not open for breakfast.”

  Brown eyes, clouded with age but still surprisingly sharp, peered at him from behind thick bifocals. “I know that. I came to talk to you. I’ve been here several mornings this week, but the place is never open. And then you closed for dinner. I’d like to know why.”

  And he’d like to know why he had to deal with this. “We had to,” he said vaguely, blinking when she stopped the walker in front of a booth and positioned herself to sit down. “And, really, I have an appointment and can’t be late.”

  She plopped her narrow frame into the booth and scooted back, then tapped the table with a solid rap. “Sit down, Lawson.”

  Ire poked at his gut like a two-pronged fork. “I can’t, Mrs.…”

  She flipped a sizable bag off the handle of the walker and brought it close to her body as if she thought he might try to take off with it. “Everyone just calls me Rosie.”

  “I can’t, Rosie. I…” Rosie?

  She pulled a piece of paper from the side of her bag. “We have a business transaction to conduct, and it’s my guess you’d like to have this signed, sealed, and delivered before that court hearing in Naples starts in less than an hour.”

  All the air escaped him in one long whoosh.

  This was Rosalind Rice…former wife of Franklyn Rice and, quite possibly, the legal owner of the Toasted Pelican. He didn’t even think about not sitting down across from her.

  “You’ve been coming in here for a long time,” he said, the realization certainly not the strangest thing about this meeting, but still, it stunned him.

  “Oh yes. I would sneak in when Jake was still alive, but considering he was thirty and I was fifty when he met me, it’s no surprise he didn’t recognize me now.”

  She spread some papers in front of her, but looked at him. “What?” she asked, reading his expression of disbelief. “You’re surprised I came in here? I had to be sure the Pelican was running exactly as my ex-husband ordered it to. And, until recently, it was. And then I met you the other night.” She lowered her glasses and showed a spark in her eyes. “You are quite a charmer and a great chef.”

  “I am…” Law leaned back on the booth, rooting around for some way to make sense of what was happening. “Confused. Why didn’t you come forth sooner?”

  “Oh, those lawyers,” she said, stroking a puff of white curls. “They think I’m ninety-five and stupid. It’s like they never met a shrewd woman before. Did they not see my divorce settlements?”

  Plural. He let it go and waited for more of an e
xplanation.

  “Frank did not hide this particular asset very well, though God knows he tried. He honestly didn’t hide anything very well, but that’s why I ended up with the lion’s share of his vast fortune and the good Lord took his mind and memory away and let him die in an old-age home with nothing but social security and a string of mistresses.” Bitterness cut through her voice. “Anyway, what did I need with this stupid old restaurant?”

  “Then why didn’t you talk to Jake when he was still alive? Why not give him a chance to buy it from you?” Could have saved a lot of misery, but something told him this old woman thrived on misery. “Was it because the deed said it can only be owned by Frank’s heirs?”

  “Pffft.” She flicked her hand. “I forget I own it half the time. That’s how unimportant it’s been to me. Then Jake died, and my lawyer notified me, and we took just a little too much time moving forward.” She gestured toward her bottom. “Hip replacement. Anyway, by the time I was healthy enough to come in here and discuss selling it, some ‘shell company’ had taken over, which is a real hoot if you ask me, and no one had any idea who that was other than some guy named Sam in Miami.”

  Law gave a wry smile. “I know exactly what hitting that brick wall feels like.”

  She sniffed. “Well, then that ‘notification’ appeared in some paper that’s read by no one but first-year law associates in sixth-rate law schools. Does this Liberty Management think I don’t have Harvard-educated lawyers working for me?”

  “I don’t think they know you exist. Or your former husband.” In fact, Sam’s research machine had come up completely empty-handed while trying to locate this woman.

  “Well, I do. Obviously, after three marriages, I have new names, and when you have money like mine and you’re a day over ninety, you keep a low profile.” She leaned forward. “Men can be gold diggers, too, you know.” She winked. “Are you interested?”

  “In that paper.”

  She nodded. “Well, my lawyers looked at all the business this Liberty Management was filing with judges and whatnot and came up with a simple plan to just meet this upstart on the courtroom steps and head them off at the pass.”