Naughty Flings: Twelve Naughty Little Romps

by Alexa Silver

  He walked into her store, nodding to one of the guys at the counter. “Where’s Mel?”

  “She just took a late lunch,” the guy said, looking at him curiously. “She loves that café down the hall.”

  “Thanks!” If he thought too hard about things, he’d chicken out, so he strode down to the café, sticking his head inside. There she was, curve of her cheek elegant, a little smile on her face. She was engrossed in a book—his, he hoped—and didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence. He went to the counter, bought a bottle of water, and stood over her.

  “You like to eat alone, or would you care for some company?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as pathetic as he appeared.

  Mel’s head snapped up, that hazy, unfocused look of a woman deeply involved in her reading all over her face. She shook her head twice and then motioned to the chair across the tiny table. “Sure…sorry. I was…”

  “Reading,” he finished for her.

  “Yeah.” She had the cutest blush. It even colored the tips of her ears. “It’s been such a busy day that I didn’t even get a chance to crack this open, and I want to get a huge chunk done before I get home. My roommates are…difficult.”

  “Difficult?”

  “Yeah.” She blushed even deeper if that was possible. “Jeez, we haven’t even formally introduced ourselves, my mom would kick my butt for being so rude.” She wiped her hand on a napkin, extending it “Melody Branch.”

  He took her hand, fingertips caressing her palm. By rights, her hands should have been work-roughened rather than delicate, weathered rather than soft. His fingertip traced her lifeline and she giggled. He hadn’t heard such an endearing sound in years.

  “Tod Swanson. But…I think you know me as…someone else.”

  “Oh? My first customer a day?” He hadn’t released her hand yet, but then again, she hadn’t pulled it back, either. He firmed his grip on it, tugging her close.

  “Jean Deaux, Melody.”

  She could have laughed. She could have shaken her head, dismissed him, walked away. Instead, she slapped her free hand on the table and half stood, bringing her face right to his. “No way. Really?”

  “Really,” he whispered the words, breathing in the fruity scent of her lip gloss. “I can prove it.”

  “How?” Her sarcastic face was endearing, the brow quirked, the little smirk. It all screamed a challenge to him, and he wasn’t a guy who liked to back down.

  “I have the first chapter of the next book in my briefcase. If I show you the first page, will that be enough?”

  “Guess it’ll have to be, Jean.” She settled back in her seat, closing the book and cradling it to her chest, her eyes expectant, her expression cautious.

  Tod reached into his briefcase with shaking hands and pulled out the binder-clipped manila envelope. He opened it with slow and deliberate movements, watching her expression all the while. He peeled off a single page and handed it to her, trying to slow his rapidly racing heartbeat with deep, even breaths.

  “Tell me how you like it,” he said quietly. Outside of his agent and editor, nobody had seen this and he was a nervous wreck. He tried not to shred her napkin or clutch his unopened water bottle.

  “My god,” she said, handing the page back. “That is incredible! You’re…him,” she said, gesturing to the book. “But why the pen name?”

  “I work for the school system and I didn’t want there to be problems.”

  She nodded, staring at her sandwich and soup thoughtfully. “There’s nothing salacious in what you write.”

  “I know. Try defending that to an overzealous school board, though.” He leaned in, regarding her. “I’m close to retirement.”

  She swatted his arm. “You are not. You’re young!”

  Okay, he’d take that. He’d rather that she said he was sexy, but he’d live with young. “I have over twenty years with the school system. It is advantageous for them to hire someone right out of school, and I can buy my extra years for a solid pension.” He paused one long beat. “I have some savings. I think I’m going to try writing full time for a little bit.”

  Her eyes lit up with some emotion he didn’t know her well enough to read. Yet. That would change. “That would be a dream.”

  The amber flecks in her brown eyes gave her an extra luminosity, making them sparkle. “Your dream?” he asked, taking a chance. If he wasn’t wrong, that looked like more than admiration, a tinge of envy.

  “Yes!” she breathed out in a whisper. She motioned him closer. “I want to write so much, but I don’t have a chance to take advantage. When I’m home, my roommates are watching TV in the living room and it is so hard writing with headphones on.”

  “Write with me,” he said without working out what he was saying.

  “Where do you write?” So that was her skeptical look. It was kinda cute.

  “At home. Stamford. You live in the city?”

  “God no, suburban boy,” She wrinkled her nose. “Do I look as if I can afford to live in the city? I’m in Brooklyn. My whole family is, actually.” She bit her lip again, falling silent. “Stamford is a ways away. What is it, an hour?”

  “By train,” he allowed. “I have a car, too, but the train is an easier commute during the week.” He paused, weighing his next words before taking a chance and speaking them. The fear of rejection lodged in his throat and his hands shook.

  “Melody, come back with me. I can wait until you’re done with work. I have a desktop and a laptop. Do you store your writing in the cloud?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” she whispered. She chewed thoughtfully on her sandwich. “I don’t want to take the train from Stamford to Brooklyn at night.”

  She was considering it; that was more than he hoped. “I can drive you home. It should only be about an hour. When do you have to be home?” This was starting to sound suspiciously like a date.

  “Eleven? Yeah…eleven would be good.” She sighed, finishing her sandwich and sat deep in thought. He wanted to fidget, but instead he cracked the seal on his bottle of water.

  “You know me. I’m not creepy.”

  “I don’t actually,” she replied quietly. “Tell me something to put me at ease.”

  He thought fast. “We can either stop at my office and you can meet my coworkers, or we can visit my mom. She has a wicked sweet tooth and I was planning on bringing her a gourmet chocolate bar.”

  “So that’s where my candy goes,” she replied. “I can probably get off in fifteen or twenty. In fact, a couple of my guys need some extra hours as badly as I need to get off. One thing, though.” She paused, gathering her trash. “You need to stop over at the Bagelry and meet my mom. She has a knack about people.”

  “Uh oh,” he said with a little grin, hoping he didn’t look goofy. “Your mom works there?”

  “Yeah. We’re long term leases for both units. My grandfather had a hot dog stand there in the sixties and seventies, and when Mom took it over, she transformed it to a bagelry. We don’t have an easy time always, with the way things keep going upscale, but Mom enjoys it a lot and mixes things up and both units have consistently turned a profit, which is pretty rare.”

  “Admirable qualities. I think I’m going to like your mom.”

  “If you’re a regular there, I think you probably already do.” She tossed her trash, and he noticed how orderly she was, wiping the table down. It was endearing that she was trying to make the work for the café staff easier.

  “You’re not eating there?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  “I couldn’t!” Mel gave him a look that he supposed he should understand. Instead, he just shrugged, unable to parse it. When she waved her hands in front of her body, he could tell his confusion was written all over his face.

  “I’m chunky. I do not need a million-calorie bagel feast to make me gain even more weight.”

  Chunky? He didn’t see it. Sure, she had curves—there was a beautiful flare to her hips and she had an ass that made him want to dig his finge
rs in and hold on while he was…

  Out of the gutter, buddy!

  Too late, he was there, taking in her generous chest—she had to be at least double Ds. “You have curves any guy worth his salt would salivate over.”

  “Mmm. That’s why I haven’t had a date in a couple of years.” She opened her mouth and he had the sense she was going to say something important, but then she closed down, her body language becoming more compact, his ARC clutched to her chest. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but he had the sense that he’d stepped in a huge landmine.

  “Maybe you’re not dating the right people, beautiful.” He, too, wanted to say more, but he didn’t dare. Her eyes flickered to his and she held his gaze for only the beat of a second before she looked off somewhere over his shoulder.

  “Come meet Mom, Tod. Or meet her as my friend, since she never forgets a face and I’m sure she knows exactly who you are.”

  He gathered his briefcase and water, following after her, wishing he knew her well enough to reach her.

  Had he really called her beautiful? No guy did that. The last one, an optometrist named Melvin who Mom knew from the old neighborhood, had criticized every bite she’d eaten, and then had accepted it as his right to paw her afterward. He’d bought her lunch, that had to give him free rein over her body, didn’t it?

  Great guys didn’t tend to go for girls like Melody. She was on the chunky side of curvy, and no matter how much she dieted, she hadn’t been able to drop that twenty pounds that kept her self-conscious and shopping in the “voluptuous” and “curvy” sections of stores.

  No, if this was a sitcom or movie, she’d be the cute but forgettable sidekick to the gorgeous leading actress, cheerily supportive as her friend found true love and she went home with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s to her cat and plants.

  Well, she had the cats—even if they were outdoors—and her plants, but she tried to stay away from her nemeses Ben & Jerry. They went right to her hips and made a home.

  Melody turned, half wondering if he’d stayed back at the café, if she’d messed up something new and intriguing by her self-deprecation. But no, he was there, a half step behind her, his eyes cast downward.

  The Bagelry was quiet now, and Mom had her staff sampling a few different options that, if they passed, would make their way to the menu soon. One of the offerings looked to be a fruit one, studded with bits of shredded coconut, while the other wasn’t easily identified.

  “Hi, Mom,” she greeted, motioning for Tod to come close. “This is Tod Swanson. He’s a regular and a writer just like me. He’s done with work today, so I’m going to head up to Stamford for the evening.”

  “Hi, Tod,” Mom greeted, separating out two pieces of each of the bagels. She consulted with the others for a moment, poured herself a Coke, and came out from behind the counter. “Try these, Melody, Tod, tell me what you think of them.”

  “Good to see you again, Gloria,” he said with a warm expression and a nod. “I loved that triple berry vanilla bagel I had yesterday. I hope you add that one to the menu permanently, rather than making it a spring thing.”

  “The Spring Fling. I’ll think about it, hon.”

  It shouldn’t have made her feel jealous, but the fact that Mom and Tod had a rapport bothered Melody a bit, and it wasn’t only the fact that he was closer to Mom’s age than hers. Mel followed her mother to a table and sat down, reaching for the orange-studded bagel.

  “That’s my tropical, for the summer. Mangoes and coconut, with pineapple rum cream cheese. This one is a Blue Moon bagel with tangerine cream cheese. The other is a chocolate stout brown bread bagel with hazelnut cream cheese. This one may be good for the fall, or if we end up doing that beer pairings thing with the beer café down the hall.”

  Mel took a taste of the tropical bagel and moaned. Mom had a constantly rotating menu, and she had a great winners-to-not ratio, but this one took the cake—or bagel, as it were. It even surpassed the spring fling with the rich French vanilla cream cheese and berries exploding in her mouth. She wished she dared eat more bagels, especially Mom’s, but they were so rich and caloric.

  Beside her, Tod groaned, a purely sexual sound that sent a shaft of longing through Mel. He was so damn sexy and he didn’t seem to have any idea.

  “You like?” her mom sounded breathy and young all of a sudden and that irritated the hell out of Mel.

  “Love it, Gloria. It makes me think of piña coladas.”

  “Oh my gosh, I could add a little coconut into the cream cheese and make it a piña colada schmear. Thank you, Tod. Mel, what do you think?”

  “Love it,” Mel said with a nod, wishing she hadn’t tossed her soda.

  “Cleanse your palates before you try the next one.”

  Mel twisted around. “I don’t have anything,” she said, starting to get up.

  “You can share my water.” Tod’s voice, low and sexy, permeated every barrier she thought she’d erected. So much for going the solo route after her bad relationship string. So much for not letting any guy in. She thought she was ready now.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, taking it out of his hand and swallowing generously. She’d get him another one when she left the store to replace this one.

  “Try the two beer ones. The Blue Moon first. That one is still a work in progress. I’m not sure if I want tangerine, orange, or a basic citrus cream cheese.”

  Tod chewed thoughtfully. “I like the idea of an even stronger orange flavor in the cream cheese, maybe oranges and tangerines or oranges and clementines.”

  Mom nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced. “What do you think, Melody?”

  Mel chewed, absorbing the flavors. “Let’s give this one some thought, Mom. It isn’t bad, it just isn’t quite there yet.”

  “Any ideas for a third summer bagel? I have the berry vanilla spring, the hibiscus tea with sweet cream cheese, and the lemon thyme with lemon cream cheese. We’ll keep those through the rest of June.”

  “Key lime bagel with graham crackers folded into the cream cheese,” Tod suggested.

  “Genius,” Mom said, tapping his arm. She turned to Mel with an encouraging nod. “What are you two doing tonight?”

  Mel appreciated the way Tod looked over at her, clearly awaiting her response. “Writing, I think. Tod is a writer, just like me, Mom.”

  “Oh. Do you write those spicy romances too, Tod?”

  “MOM!” Mel didn’t think her face could get much redder.

  “No, Gloria. I write thrillers.” He met Mel’s eyes and she nodded, handing him the copy of his book. “This is my upcoming book.”

  Mel’s mom took the book, reading the blurb and cover quotes. “Can I read this?”

  “When I’m done, Mom. I promise.”

  Mom looked serious and deep in thought. “Do you drive, Tod? Have a car?”

  “I do. Reliable SUV.”

  “Good. You drive Mel home when you’re done. I don’t want her taking the subway at night. And Melody, don’t worry. I’ll stop by your place and take care of things at home.”

  “I have an elderly cat,” she told Tod. Bert needed wet food and her roommates didn’t always remember to feed him on schedule.

  Mel rolled her shoulders, cracking away the tension. “Let me tell the guys I’m leaving early. Tod, are we on target for a train to suburbia. Mom, he lives in Stamford.”

  “Woe is you, honey. Woe is you.”

  Chapter 3

  Tod really enjoyed the rapport between Gloria, whom he should have pegged as Mel’s Mom all along, and her daughter. The units were next door to each other and there was a family resemblance, subtle but clear once you were aware.

  As Mel disappeared into the bustling bookstore, Gloria turned to him. “Tod, may I ask you a personal question or two.”

  “Of course,” he said a little warily. He placed his briefcase on his lap and looked at her, awaiting whatever questions she had. It was encouraging that she was engaged in her daughter’s life. It didn’t se
em overprotective as much as engaged.

  “You’re mid-forties, yes? And unmarried?”

  “Forty-five,” he admitted. “Yes, unmarried. Widowed. My wife died some years ago.” It had gotten easier to say through the passage of time.

  “My husband, too. Seven years ago.”

  “2001.” It was strange how easy it was to bond over things like this. By rights it should have been harder than it was.

  “Oh, hon,” Gloria jumped up and hugged him impulsively. “In the Towers?”

  Even though so many years had passed, everyone seemed to use that as their frame of reference. “No, my dad in the Towers. Amelia a few months earlier.”

  Gloria combed her fingers through his hair and it felt so natural to take comfort like this from someone who was no more than a friendly acquaintance in a public environment. He wasn’t the most demonstrative guy, but this didn’t bother him at all. In fact, he leaned in to her touch.

  She was silent for a few moments and then sat down across from him, sipping her drink. “You’re ready for this, Tod? I won’t have my daughter hurt.”

  He met her eyes with a head-on stare that he hoped conveyed the complexity of his growing bond with her daughter. “Yes,” he said softly. “This isn’t a passing fancy. I’ve been interested in Mel for a while.”

  She leaned in close, tapping the table. “If you hurt her unnecessarily, I will hurt you, Tod.”

  “Noted.”

  He stood, extending his hand. “Thank you for the samples, Gloria. I’ll have Mel call you when she’s home. If she decides to stay the night, I’ll have her phone you as well.”

  Mel’s mother stood too, giving him a long look. She shook his hand, gripping it firmly, before saying a quiet “thank you.” She nodded once and turned, and he had a feeling he’d just passed a test.

  Mel looked lighter and younger as she left the bookstore and approached him. She’d taken her hair down and it rippled down her back, sable waves begging for his hands in it. He wanted to have handfuls of her hair in his hands as he…