by Nan Dixon
He slid slowly in and out like a taunt. Each stroke went deeper, stealing her breath. His thumbs circled and tormented her breasts.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to gain control but failing. Gray owned her body. Her fingers dug into his butt, pulling him closer.
He paused, poised above her.
She ran her fingers up to his nipples, needing him to move. When all he did was close his eyes, she rolled her hips. “Please.”
“Not yet.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I don’t want this to end.”
Abby tightened her inner muscles and rocked him deep.
“Abby,” he groaned, stroking in and out of her quicker, harder.
Explosions waited on the edge. If he didn’t move faster and deeper, she would die.
“I can’t breathe,” she gasped. “Move. Harder.”
“Stay with me,” he groaned.
She disintegrated. Gray thrust and thrust, pushing her into insanity. Then he joined her in madness.
The fireworks burned away, leaving halos of light behind. Her muscles were mush. She couldn’t move.
Gray’s weight lifted, but her body was embedded in the mattress. She heard him walk to the bathroom. When he climbed back into bed, he rolled her into his arms and tucked the covers around her.
“How can you move?” she complained sleepily.
His chest vibrated under her cheek as he laughed. “I feel so damn good.”
She found enough energy to reach over and set her alarm clock and her phone alarm. “Will you stay the night?”
He turned and kissed her, long and hard. “You couldn’t make me leave.”
* * *
THE SOUND OF Abby’s shower filled Gray’s dreams. He could taste her on his lips, feel the pounding water as he drove into her body.
Gray opened his eyes, reaching toward Abby’s side of the bed. No warmth remained. Her day started with the dawn. Without her, he couldn’t sleep.
What a couple of days they’d had. She’d broken up with him, though thankfully that hadn’t lasted long. And introducing Abby to his family could have gone better. But last night had been incredible. To say that she had rocked his world would be an understatement.
Rolling over, he wished Abby was tucked next to him. Last night hadn’t been enough. He would need to play out that shower dream soon. And he’d like to spend the day with her, in bed.
With her schedule, that wouldn’t happen. Hopefully, her workload would lighten up before he returned to Boston. Before this ended.
Uneasy, Gray tossed off the covers. He should have made sure they were still on the same page. Sex changed things. He had to make sure that Abby wasn’t thinking any further than summer’s end.
She’d left a toothbrush on the sink and folded his wrinkled clothes. He didn’t bother with a shower. He’d say good-morning to Abby and then clean up in his room.
In the garden, he plucked a pink flower from the bush next to the kitchen door. Through the screen door, he watched Abby working, her moves efficient and precise. No wonder her arms were so shapely. She whisked batter in a stainless-steel bowl large enough to hold a small toddler.
At the slap of the kitchen door, Abby looked up and then stared back down at her bowl. The woman who’d begged him to thrust harder and faster wouldn’t look him the eye.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.
He handed her the flower and then kissed her gently, tasting coffee. “I couldn’t sleep without you.”
That brief touch of their lips wasn’t enough. He pulled the bowl out of her arms, cupped her face and kissed her more thoroughly, drawing out the pleasure. She swayed toward him, her body flush against his.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
“Oh, yeah.” She grinned. “This is a really great morning.”
He loved that he could blur her eyes with a kiss. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Vegetable frittata and apple-cinnamon or oatmeal-raisin muffins.” She eased away from him. “I have to get the muffins in the oven or there won’t be any. Go away. You’re distracting.”
He kissed her nose. “Last night was unforgettable.”
“For me, too.” She clasped her cheeks and laughed a little. “I’m getting red. I’m not good at this.”
He brushed another kiss on her lips. It was going to be really hard to leave her at the end of July, but short-term was all they could have.
“I know,” she murmured.
He jerked. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
“Let’s have some fun before you have to leave.” She stared at the floor. “That’s all I expect. I like the idea of this being...fun.”
When she looked up, her smile lit the room.
Was it true? He hugged her, hoping it was.
He hoped that was all she expected. But would the fact that she had financial problems interfere with the temporary nature of their fun relationship?
“What time is your family’s flight today?” she asked.
“I think they want to leave midmorning. The Lear is picking them up.”
“They have a plane?” Her eyes grew wide. “Your family owns a plane?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t want her focusing on his family’s money. Moving closer, he distracted her with a kiss.
She moaned. “Go away. I need to get breakfast ready.”
After one more kiss, he let her push him out of the kitchen. He took the back stairs two at a time.
That hadn’t gone badly. They were both in this for the sex. Nothing more. They would have fun and part as friends.
If he could dance, he imagined sliding down the polished wood floors like Fred Astaire. He started to whistle, needing an outlet for all this energy, and then stopped. Abby would have his head if he woke the other guests.
As he turned the corner and headed to his suite, his bubble of goodwill burst.
“Good morning, Mother.”
“May I come in?” his mother asked, a cup of coffee in her hand.
He opened his door and held it for her. Funny how a night spent in Abby’s room made this one seem empty.
“Your...relationship with the woman I met last night is serious?” she asked. His mother wasn’t stupid. She knew he hadn’t spent the night here.
“Her name is Abigail. Abby,” he said, tossing his key card on the desk.
“I’m sorry. Yes, I mean Abby.” His mother sat on the sofa. “So you’re serious?”
Gray didn’t follow his mother to the sofa. He needed space. “Abby knows I’m heading back to Boston when the condos are done.”
“I thought Courtney and Gwen’s plan was in your best interest.” Her elegant hand smoothed the fabric of her trousers over her knees. For once, her clothes were rumpled and her hairstyle didn’t look perfect. Strands of silver-blond hair floated around her head like dandelion fluff. “In Boston, everything made sense.”
“If anyone had bothered to ask, I would have told them how stupid this idea was. Instead, you ruined the time we had to spend together. And you ruined Abby’s weekend. She broke up with me after you arrived. Luckily, I was able to change her mind yesterday.”
“I didn’t know.” She raised her hands in supplication. “You didn’t tell anyone about—Abby.”
Because he hadn’t known what to say. “Gwen walked into the room and everything went to hell.” His angry words rattled through the room like hammer strikes.
His mother shook her head. “I thought I was helping you. I thought you and Gwen just needed time together.”
“We don’t.”
“But you didn’t warn me. How important is this Abby to you if you didn’t tell anyone?”
The same question Abby had asked. He flexed his fingers, trying to keep them f
rom making fists. How important was she? They’d just started to date. “When have I ever talked about who I’m dating with my family?”
“Never.” His mother sighed. “It’s... Gwen is like another daughter to me. When you started dating...” She shrugged. “Forgive me?”
“Sure.” He tugged her off the sofa and gave her a hug.
His mom kissed his cheek. “Are we good?”
“We’re good.” But the conversation had taken the glow off his morning.
* * *
ABBY TAPPED THE edges of Gray’s parents’ bill and stapled the pages. Outside, Nigel loaded the Smythes’ luggage in the van.
She should have let Marion or Amy check them out. She didn’t need any more embarrassment. Although Gray’s reminder about the short-term nature of the affair had been embarrassing, too. Did he think she wanted to sink her claws into him?
She sighed. Probably. That was the world he lived in.
The elevator dinged. Gray grinned as he came around the corner tugging two wheeled bags. “Hey, Abby.”
Every sound and image faded away. He was all she saw. Her breath puffed out at the memory of their lovemaking last night. She wanted his lips on hers again.
She shouldn’t have thought about last night. Now her cheeks were probably bright pink.
Mr. Smythe stood in front of the desk. How long had he been waiting?
“Thank you for choosing Fitzgerald House,” she said, her voice formal as she handed him the bill.
“After this weekend, I understand why Gray is enjoying his stay.” Mr. Smythe winked as he handed her his credit card.
Mrs. Smythe and her daughter came down the central stairs, each trailing their fingers on one of the banisters. They both wore tailored pants, silky scarves and simple blouses that likely cost more than Abby’s annual clothing budget. They looked as if they belonged in Fitzgerald House.
Abby turned her attention to the credit-card machine. Before looking back up, she forced a professional smile across her face for the Smythe women. They would not intimidate her. She may not have their resources, but she was still their equal.
“Abigail.” Mrs. Smythe’s tone was solemn. “I’m sorry for the mess we made this weekend. Please, forgive me.”
Abby blinked and glanced over at Gray. Had he orchestrated this?
Mrs. Smythe gently tapped her daughter’s hand.
“Yes, I’m sorry, too,” mumbled Courtney, her voice almost inaudible. She shot a venomous look at Gray. “We didn’t know about you.”
The credit-card machine began spitting and clicking.
“Thank you for the apology.” Abby ripped out the charge slip. “I hope you enjoyed some of your time in Savannah.”
She handed the receipt and a pen to Mr. Smythe.
“I hope you can understand.” Mrs. Smythe looked over as Gray brought more luggage out to Nigel. “I miss my son and I don’t want to lose him.”
“You won’t.” She reached out and clasped Mrs. Smythe’s hand. Abby missed her mother every day. “I understand.”
More footsteps sounded on the stairs, making the group look up. Gwen’s eyes widened at the sight of Abby and Mrs. Smythe together.
Courtney moved to Gwen’s side. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” Gwen stared at Gray as he came back into the foyer. “I’d...I’d just hoped. I’m so embarrassed.” She buried her head in Courtney’s shoulder.
“Let’s get you to the car.” Courtney linked their arms, and they went out the door without another word.
“Again, I’m sorry for the embarrassment we’ve caused you.” Mrs. Smythe patted Abby’s hand.
Gray leaned on the desk. “I’m riding to the airport with my family and Nigel. When I come back, can we have lunch?”
She thought about her long list of to-dos in the kitchen. “I’d like that.”
“We’d better get going,” Gray’s dad said. “It was really a pleasure. I enjoyed myself.”
“Please come back,” Abby said, and this time she meant it.
His dad laughed. “I think that can be arranged, especially if Gray invests in your B and B.”
“Invests in Fitzgerald House? There must be some mistake.” She shook her head.
His dad nodded. “He mentioned you were having some cash-flow problems.”
She looked at Gray, sure her confusion was clear on her face. What was his dad talking about? Fitzgerald House wasn’t an investment opportunity. Had Gray discussed their financial problems with his father?
Gray’s inhaled. “You’re mixing things up, Dad. I’m thinking about bidding on a warehouse next to the one I own.”
“Oh? I thought you mentioned...” Something in the look Gray shot him had Mr. Smythe not finishing his thought. “My mistake. We’ll recommend your lovely B and B to our friends.”
She walked them to the door, her head still spinning. In the kitchen, Gray had said their relationship was short-term. And she could live with that. Because she wanted some fun in her life. Fun without the possibility of Gray breaking her heart.
What if he bought another warehouse? If Gray stayed, what would happen to their relationship? How did it affect Fitzgerald House?
She stroked the plaque next to the door and made a wish. For the first time she didn’t wish for Fitzgerald House’s prosperity.
Please let Gray stay a little longer.
CHAPTER NINE
Rule #17—Hard work makes dreams come true.
Mamie Fitzgerald
CHERYL CLEARED THE last of the breakfast dishes from the dining room. It was always nice to see the guests talking to each other. In fact, the two Moon couples who’d lingered over coffee were driving to Bonaventure Cemetery together. Not what she and Brad would have done on their honeymoon, but it was a highlight for so many of their guests.
Someday she planned to take Josh there to see what all the fuss was about.
She rolled the cart into the kitchen. The scent of warm melted butter and sugar had her closing her eyes. It always smelled fantastic in here. This was the heart of the B and B. Here was where Abby made her magic.
Miss Abby was alone. Cheryl tapped her fingers against her leg. Now was the time to ask for help.
“Hey, Cheryl.” Abby looked up from the cake she was frosting.
“That looks gorgeous.” Cheryl spotted more red-and-orange frosting between the layers of yellow cake. Abby was covering everything with thick caramel-colored icing.
“I decided to try some new flavors in the tort fillings.” Her hand was steady as she worked. She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll test it on our teatime guests.”
“It’s amazing what you can do with just a few ingredients.” The dishes clanged and chimed as Cheryl loaded the dishwasher.
“You’re right. Sometimes I forget how simple baking really is when I get caught up in the techniques.” Abby finished the frosting and wiped the plate. “Done.”
“How did you learn all this?”
Abby moved the cake in the cooler. “I went to culinary school in New York. But I learned the most from working under some great chefs.”
Culinary school. It sounded like a dream. “Sometimes you have your friend helping in the kitchen. Did he go to school like you did?”
“Yes, but he trained here in Savannah.” Abby started tidying up her dishes.
“Oh.” How could Cheryl ever afford training when she had to work to feed her son?
Abby brought a load of pots to the dishwasher. “Are you interested in learning the culinary arts?”
“I’d like to do what you do. People love your food.” Cheryl puffed out a deep breath.
Abby grimaced. “Darn. All our good employees move on.”
“I don’t want to leave.” Cheryl’s words rattled
out. “You and Marion took a chance on hiring me. I would never leave you in the lurch.”
“I’d say we were the lucky ones.”
“But I want to provide a good life for Josh.” She sighed. “I was hoping there’d be some sort of on-the-job training.”
Abby tapped her finger on the counter. “I have a Sauté Sisters group coming in next week.”
Cheryl hadn’t figured out all these sister events. “What will they do?”
“I’m giving them cooking lessons.”
“Wow.” That sounded incredible.
“Why don’t you join us?” Abby suggested.
“Me?” Cheryl’s heart beat a little faster. But then reality hit. “I have to work.”
“The classes are short. We start at ten and run until twelve-thirty for two days.” Abby grinned. “We can figure it out.”
“That would be... Yes. Yes!”
“I like this idea.” Abby gave Cheryl a reassuring smile. “We’re going to have a blast.”
Cheryl grinned back. She was going to have fun and start learning a marketable skill. Life was looking up.
* * *
DOLLEY PLOPPED A loan packet on the library coffee table in front of each of her sisters. “Happy April Fool’s Day. Here’s where we stand. The bank’s not doing us any kind of favor. We can remodel the seven rooms—big whoop—but they won’t extend the balloon or lend us the money to remodel the carriage house. The new loan is paid back over ten years, which is doable.”
Abby closed her eyes. She’d known the terms. She’d even reviewed the first version of the documents, but Dolley’s words fell like lead weights on her shoulders.
“The attorney and accountant have reviewed the documents,” Dolley added. “Everything’s as tight as we can make it. Unfortunately, we’re negotiating from a weak position. We actually need the money.”
“Well, it’s a start.” Abby slapped her leg. “This gives us a fighting chance to meet the balloon payment next year. We can do this.”
“Our attorney is surprised the bank’s so tightfisted.” Dolley’s fingers tapped against the arm of her chair. “We need to look for another bank. We’d have to have the next bank pay off all the loans and pay another set of loan fees, but First Mercantile is holding us back. Gray agrees with me.”
