by Beth Michele
“We met at a fundraiser when I was admiring one of Lily’s paintings,” Jace says.
“I don’t know if admiring is the right word,” I mumble, and Jace nudges me in the side.
Mona joins her hands in a prayer pose. “She’s so talented, my Lily, isn’t she?” she says, unaware of how her pride in me has elevated my spirits in a lasting way, filling a void that was empty for far too long. One I never understood or realized needed attention until she came along. She points to the wall above her unicorn shelf where several of my paintings are proudly displayed. “Ignore the two pieces of crap on the right. I did those in painting—”
“Mona,” I interrupt. “They’re beautiful. Art is a form of individual expression. There is no crap.”
Mona ignores me and looks straight at Jace. “Nonsense. I know crap when I see it.” She and Jace share a laugh before her gaze returns to the wall. “Every morning when I get up, her art is the first thing I see. It makes me smile, makes me feel like she’s right here with me.” She reaches a shaky hand out to pat my knee. “If I had my way, I’d kidnap her and stuff her under the bed just so I could keep her with me all the time. Everythin’ is so much brighter when she’s around.” She glances at Jace. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Harlow?”
“Mona—” I reprimand, but she steamrolls right past me.
“Don’t Mona me. The truth must be spoken.”
“You know, I couldn’t agree with you more, Mona, and please, do call me Jace.” He crosses a leg over one knee and leans forward. “I knew we’d get along swimmingly, especially after everything Lily told me about you.”
“Oh God.” I make a big show of rolling my eyes. “I should’ve known.”
“By the way, I like your unicorn collection,” Jace interjects. “I’ve never seen one quite so extensive.”
Mona’s smile illuminates her face, making her look twenty years younger. “My late husband bought me most of those. Every year for our anniversary, he added to my collection. He never understood my fascination, but he never failed to buy me another one, that bastard. He was a good man, always surprisin’ me out of the blue. He kept me on my toes, that one.”
“That’s a lot of years together,” Jace comments, the awe in his tone surprising me.
“Fifty-eight years,” she says, staring at the tarnished wedding band around her finger. “And then he left me here. I wanted Vincent to take me with him to the other side, but I guess someone decided the world still needed me.” A small, wobbly laugh. “For what, I don’t know.”
“The world needs your light,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine.
“Hmmm, perhaps,” she says, thoughtful. “Whatever the reason”—she looks up to the ceiling—“I’m still here.”
“You just reminded me—I have something for you.” I search through my purse, retrieving the gift pouch and placing it on her lap. “I saw this and thought you might like it.”
“Lily,” she scolds, though her sparkling hazel eyes tell a different story. “It’s not my birthday, and you shouldn’t have.”
“Of course I should have. Now stop protesting and open it.”
She addresses Jace with that crooked grin. “She’s a pushy little thing, ain’t she?”
“Oh yes,” he agrees, and I glare at him through a ridiculous smile.
Mona lifts the pouch, attempting to untie the thin velvet knot, but subtle hand tremors make it difficult. Jace reaches out to take it from her. “Here, let me help you.”
My heart doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to make of this kind, beautiful man. It’s filling, and leaping, and squeezing. Warmth settles into my bones, thawing pieces of me that haven’t seen the light of day in a long time. One word—one feeling—rises up within me. I’m afraid to say it, terrified to feel it, but I can no longer deny that it’s there.
“Thank you, Jace. Sometimes an old woman’s hands don’t work so well.” I hear Mona talking, but can’t seem to tear my gaze away from Jace. He catches me staring and sends me a soft smile. “Oh, Lily, this is lovely.” Mona lets out an appreciative gasp, her watery voice getting my attention. “I don’t have a unicorn pin. It’s so perfect.” She holds it to her chest. “Will you put it on for me, dear?”
“Of course.” I stand from the bed and bend, inserting the sharp pin through the fabric of her blouse. Once I have it clipped, she draws me into her embrace. She smells like the Chanel No. 5 I buy her every Christmas, and she feels like what I always pictured home to be: warm and loving. “Thank you, dear, so much. Thank you for thinking about this old woman.”
I squeeze her tight. “I’m always thinking of you, Mona.”
She pushes me away just as easily as she drew me in. “Okay, that’s enough. You’re goin’ to make me cry.” She sits up a little straighter in the chair. “How do I look?”
“Beautiful,” Jace and I say at the same time.
“Jinx,” I call out quickly, because I’m still twelve in my head. “You owe me a cookie.”
He leans close, breath warm against my ear. “Isn’t there something else you’d rather have instead?” My body responds instantly, goosebumps dancing across my skin. The answer is a resounding yes, of course, but I manage to restrain from shouting it out.
Not by much, though.
“Is it gettin’ a little warm up in here, or is it just me?” Mona drawls, amusement settling into the lines of her face. “Ah, to be young again.”
“What’s on the agenda for Saturday?” I ask, hoping to distract from my desire to jump Jace’s bones right here and now.
“Rummy.” Her eyes fly in Jace’s direction. “Do you play?”
“No, never have.”
She brings her cane around for support. “Well, then, today you’re going to learn.”
“Mona, Jace doesn’t really—”
“I’d love to play,” he says, bypassing my words and shocking me in the best way.
“In that case, I better warn you,” I tell her as I place an arm around her waist to help her stand, flinging a grin at Jace. “He’s a shark.”
Two hours later, the recreation hall is buzzing, bingo on one side of the room, cards on the other. We’re huddled at a corner table, Jace surrounded by several gray-haired, feisty old ladies. I’m sitting beside him as he studies his cards and all the women study him. It’s like they’ve never seen a man before, the way they straighten in their seats and pat their hair to ensure there isn’t one out of place.
Of course, he is a god among men, that blowjob box just waiting to be checked.
A laugh tumbles from my lips, and five pairs of eyes stare in my direction.
“What’s funny?” one of the women asks. “I didn’t hear the joke.”
“Turn your hearing aid up,” another one calls out.
Meanwhile, Jace looks over with raised eyebrows. “Yes, Lily, what is funny?”
“I…well, I…”
“Can’t you old bags see?” Mona glances around the table. “She’s flustered by the handsome man beside her.” She cough-laughs. “I believe we’re all sufferin’ from that affliction.”
“Jesus, Mona,” her friend Martha says from across the table.
Mona purses her thin lips. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re not all hot and bothered over there like the rest of us.”
My mouth opens in the biggest O and I cover my face with my hands, hoping the floor will swallow me up. A second later, I peek through my fingers to find Jace’s cheeks a deep red. I’ve never seen him this embarrassed before, but it’s kind of a good look for him. “I’m sorry about that,” I whisper. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he whispers back. “They’re adorable.”
“You’re adorable.” I don’t mean to say it, but it slips out anyway.
“Adorable enough for a kiss?” he asks, gaze teasing and irresistible.
He gets his answer—a chaste press of lips—while applause sounds from the rest of the table.
“Should we take a bow?” I joke, and
he laughs before tossing down the winning card.
“I believe that’s three games, ladies.”
“Jace Harlow,” Mona shouts over the noise in the room. “You sure you haven’t played this game before?”
“I’m sure, ma’am.”
She drops her cards onto the table. “My cards are suckin’ wind. Besides, I’m a little tired and ready to throw in the towel. Lily, dear, would you and Jace help me back up to my room please?”
“Of course,” I reply, pushing back my chair as we say our goodbyes.
We escort Mona upstairs, and once she’s situated in her favorite armchair, I tidy up the room before we head out.
“Lily, you don’t have to do that. It’s fine.”
“I don’t mind,” I say lightly, organizing the magazines on her bedside table.
Mona clears her throat. “Jace, would you mind pouring me some water? I’m a little thirsty.”
“Certainly.” He brings over the pitcher and fills her cup. She summons him closer, and I strain to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“She’s very special. I hope you know what you’ve got there.”
From across the room, Jace aims a smile that blankets me in warmth. “Believe me, I do.”
Her world-weary eyes narrow. “Good, because I don’t wanna have to open a can of whoop-ass on you.”
“Whoop-ass?” he questions, and I try to hide my face and control my hysterics.
“In other words,” she explains, “hell hath no fury like Mona Norman.”
Jace places a hand on her shoulder, wearing his amusement like a badge. “Understood and noted.”
“Now you two go on and get out of here. You’re missing out on this beautiful day. And thank you so much for the lovely pin, Lily.”
“You’re welcome, and don’t forget—I’ll be back on Wednesday for another lesson.”
“And I’ll be ready to paint more crap,” she banters as Jace bends to give her a hug.
“It’s been a real pleasure, Mona.”
“Yes, it has.” Her eyes meet mine over his shoulder. “Hope to see you again.”
“Okay, my turn.” Once Jace steps away, I shuffle over and throw my arms around her. “I’ll see you soon. You behave yourself.”
“That’s no fun,” she says before lowering her voice so only I can hear. “He’s a good one. Hold on to him.”
Yeah, I think I will.
I’m important to her.
I’m very important to her.
In my line of work, details are crucial, semantics even more so.
Very.
That implies a lot.
“I hope that wasn’t too overwhelming,” Lily says as we amble down the hallway, a secret grin fastened to my lips.
“Overwhelming? Not at all. I enjoyed myself immensely.”
She stops in the middle of the hall, eyeing me with a strange sort of curiosity, or perhaps disbelief. I’m not sure which. “Really?”
I give her ponytail a playful tug. “Yes, really.”
A pleased smile. “Hmph.”
“What’s that—”
“Lil!” A guy appears out of nowhere and nearly tackles her with a hug. “I thought that was you.”
She returns his fervor with equal amounts of affection and I don’t like it, nor do I enjoy the way it claws at my chest. The words Mine and Keep your fucking hands off her are climbing up my throat but luckily don’t make it out into the air.
Her happiness is too damn apparent when he releases her. “It’s so good to see you. Jace, this is Shawn. Shawn, Jace.” She doesn’t tell me his last name, perhaps sensing my desire to hunt him down and make him disappear.
I reach out to shake his proffered hand. “Good to meet you.” Not exactly the truth, but I can be polite. Then I proceed to stand there while they have a conversation. Mentions of a trip to San Francisco with a mutual friend, a few other topics in which I have no interest, and then he’s gone. My stare follows him until he’s out of sight. I look back at Lily. “Who was that?”
“Shawn is another volunteer here, and a friend.”
I struggle to keep my voice even. “He certainly wasn’t looking at you like a friend, and I didn’t like his hands on you.”
Her brows dip. “Wait, what? You didn’t like his hands on me?”
When she says it back, I realize how possessive it sounded.
She parks one hand on her hip, jutting out her chin. “What does that mean exactly?”
That’s what I’m trying to determine.
“I think we need to get something straight,” she starts, that fire I’m so attracted to out in full force. “I am not one of those women who likes to be possessed or owned, unless it’s pertaining to sex. I don’t need to be saved. I’m pretty good at life, and I can stand on my own two feet. So, in order for whatever this is to work, you’ll have to throw those notions out the window.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. It sounded, for lack of anything else…caveman-like.” Her displeasure seems to evaporate a little at my word choice, and that’s when something occurs to me. “Wait a minute. Back up.” With one finger, I gesture between us. “You said, ‘whatever this is’, and that implies this is something.” I take a step toward her. “Is this something, Lily?”
“Maybe,” she says, keeping her cards close to the vest. She’s trying to hold on to that last bit of exasperation, perhaps as a shield against whatever is happening here, but I refuse to let her get away with it. Not this time.
Another step closer. “Maybe isn’t good enough.”
She exhales with the force of a gale wind. “Okay, fine. Yes.”
More than satisfied with her answer, I try not to bang on my chest like Tarzan. I have a feeling it wouldn’t go over well. “I’m glad we got that cleared up, but there is one more thing.” My grin is wry. “What did you mean by ‘pertaining to sex’? I’d like clarification, please.”
“Of course you zeroed in on that,” she says, the heaviness from earlier falling away. Her cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink and it makes me hard. Who am I kidding? This whole interaction is making me hard. “Meaning…I’m okay with relinquishing control in all things sexual. However,” she adds with a curl of her lips, “occasionally, I like to take control there, too.”
I brush my knuckles across her cheek. “Say that again.”
Her dark brows furrow. “What?”
“All things sexual.”
She swats my arm with an airy laugh. “No.”
My shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Eh, I took a shot. By the way,” I continue, because I’m a glutton for punishment, “you’re hot when you assert yourself, Miss Conrad. I was seriously turned on.” Her mouth agape, my hand slides down her arm until our fingers lace together. “Feel free to get annoyed more often.”
Lily bursts out laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”
“It’s one of my better qualities,” I brag as we find our way to the exit.
“You have many,” she readily volunteers, and my chest expands. Pretty soon I’ll be swinging from the trees.
“What do you say we go get a hot dog and a lemonade?” I suggest as we embrace the late afternoon sunshine.
“That’s rather random.”
“I’m feeling rather random.” On top of the world is what I’m really feeling, what she makes me feel. “Actually, do you mind if we head back to the city first? I’d like to get to the penthouse to check in on Chaz.”
“Not at all. I’d love to meet him and also finally see how the other half lives.”
Living—now there’s a novel concept.
“Mr. Harlow, good afternoon.” Albert Pinow, a middle-aged staple at our luxury Manhattan building greets us as we enter. He tips his hat toward Lily. “Afternoon, miss.”
“Good afternoon.” Lily’s gaze wanders from the marble floors to the hand-blown glass chandelier. “Holy crap.” She glances at Albert. “This lobby is beautiful, and I like your hat. It’s pretty nifty.”
I stifle a laug
h, pausing in front of the ornate, hand-carved desk. “Albert, this is Lily Conrad. She’s on the approved list.”
“Yes, sir, along with your brother, Chaz,” he confirms in his steadfast tone, staring at the computer screen.
“Correct, and thank you, Albert.”
“My pleasure,” he says, tapping his hat. “And thank you for the compliment, miss.” He darts a glance between us, mouth poised and ready to initiate a dialogue, something like Why do you look so happy, Mr. Harlow? Also, she’s lovely. I find it fascinating how the air shifts in her presence. Even Albert, who hardly smiles or makes time for pleasant conversation, seems to be biting his tongue.
It’s the Lily Conrad effect.
I know, because I suffer from it too.
“Nice to meet you,” Lily says, edging closer as I lead her toward the elevator. “The approved list,” she whispers. “Sounds important. What exactly am I approved for?”
I insert the keycard into the private elevator, lifting my glance. In it are all my lascivious thoughts. “Anything you want.”
“What I want”—she peeks over my shoulder, quieting her voice—“is for you to fuck my mouth. I’m dying to taste you on my tongue.”
“Christ.”
She licks her full, pouty lips, knowing the power she wields over me, and my cock thickens behind my zipper. “I can do it in the elevator,” she says as the doors open. “Isn’t that every man’s fantasy?”
“Not mine.” I wait until we’re alone to drag her body close, murmuring dirty words in her ear. “Mine involves your pussy and my tongue and hours upon hours of licking you until you’re the only thing I taste for days.”
I squeeze her supple ass with both hands and she moans. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” I ask, delirious from her scent as I kiss down her neck, tongue lashing out to sample her flesh.
“Make me wet with just a few words.” She lets her head loll to the side, offering me more. “And whatever you’re doing with your tongue—keep doing that.”
