If you’re interested in talking about the job, please do give me a call. I think you’d enjoy the atmosphere and creative freedom, and I will make it worth your while.
Sincerely,
Sandra Elson
Below her email signature was a telephone number as well as a website for The Alexander. I immediately clicked on the link, eager to see what she’d described.
When the site came up, I gasped. Sandra’s words had hardly done it justice—I wasn’t surprised it had been featured in Hollywood films because it looked like a movie set. I could imagine Rhett Butler carrying Scarlett O’Hara up the wide stone staircase, or Grace Kelly gliding across the elegant living room floor with a martini in her gloved hand, or Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers twirling madly in the cavernous ballroom, an orchestra at one end.
The rose gardens were breathtaking, the decorating sumptuous and deliciously over the top. There were marble fireplaces and velvet loveseats and ceilings carved with murals and friezes. The entire place reverberated with the glamour and romance of a bygone era. Perusing the website, I was inundated with ideas for wedding ceremonies and grand receptions and cozy, intimate wine dinners. Designing events for a place like this would be a dream job for me.
Immediately I typed a reply, thanking her for thinking of me and letting her know that I’d love to chat more about the opportunity—but I couldn’t bring myself to hit send.
I stood there staring at the screen as the minutes ticked by, and my fingers wouldn’t tap that blue button.
It was an unbelievable offer, one I should jump at.
What was holding me back?
When my shift at the front desk was over, I poked my head into my dad’s office. “Hey.”
He looked up and smiled, his deep blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hey, sweetheart. Working late?”
“I’m done now.” I wandered in and dropped into a chair in front of his desk. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” He closed his laptop. “What’s up?”
I told him about the email I’d just gotten from Sandra Elson.
“That’s awesome, Win. You must have really knocked her out in that interview. Did you reply?”
“Yes. I told her I was interested.” I shook my head. “But I didn’t send it.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Why not?”
“I don’t know for sure. Maybe because it’s so far away?”
“You were going to move to New York City, weren’t you?”
“Right, but that was different. I was moving with someone I knew. I wouldn’t know anyone in Rhode Island.”
“I have no doubt you’d make friends instantly. You’ve always had that gift.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop.”
“I mean it, Win. Your teachers always used to remark on how friendly you were to everyone. They always put the new kids in the desk next to yours because they knew you’d be kind and welcoming. And remember the Buddy Bench at elementary school? You wouldn’t let someone sit on that thing for a minute without running over and asking them to play.”
“Yeah.” I smiled at the memory. “It used to break my heart when kids would go sit there alone.”
“Because you’re a people person. You like making people happy—and that draws people to you. It’s what makes you such a natural in this industry too.”
“So you think I should tell her I’m interested, huh?”
“I think you should make your own decision and not be afraid.” He held up his hands. “And even though I’d miss you and Mom will probably wring my neck for encouraging you to move away, I think you have to do the thing you were meant to do. If that takes you away from home, so be it.”
“Don’t tell her yet, okay? I just want to catch my breath and think.” My eyes scanned the shelves behind him, where familiar old photos were perched among books and vacation souvenirs and other little things my sisters and I had given him over the years. I spotted a framed picture of my older sisters and me with our dad that had been taken almost twenty years ago. I was sitting on his shoulders, and Millie and Felicity each hung off his biceps. It reminded me of something Hallie and Luna would do to Dex. I laughed a little. “God, that picture is so old.”
My dad glanced behind him to see what I was talking about. “I’m so old. I didn’t even have gray hair then. And I was in such good shape.”
“You’re still in good shape, Dad.” It was true—even in his mid-fifties, my dad still worked out almost every day. “I bet you could still put me up on your shoulders.”
“But I wouldn’t get very far.”
I laughed. “Was that at a Cloverleigh Farms staff picnic?”
“I think so. I’m pretty sure Mom took that before we were married.”
“When you were sneaking around and hiding in closets?”
“Probably.”
I shook my head. “You guys were so obvious. Millie and I were just talking about it earlier today.”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
“And then you tried to break it off, remember? And we had to call a family meeting to give you the hard words.”
“I remember.” He studied the picture a moment longer and looked at me again. “Good thing I had you three to tell me I was being an idiot.”
I laughed. “We didn’t say it like that.”
“Oh yes, you did. I distinctly remember Millie saying those exact words.”
“Well, it was true. And we didn’t want you to make a huge mistake. Just think, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten married and had Emmeline and Audrey if it wasn’t for those hard words.”
“I’m definitely the luckiest guy in the world,” he said. “Everything I needed to be happy was right there in front of me.”
“That is lucky,” I said softly.
“But I had to make choices leading up to that point that weren’t easy to make.” He looked at me intently. “Don’t be afraid to do things that seem scary. Even make mistakes. It’s how you grow and learn.”
I smiled. “Spoken like a true dad.”
“Hey. At heart, we are who we are.”
Rising from the chair, I came around and kissed his cheek. “I’d miss being able to come in here and bug you while you’re trying to work if I left.”
“I’d miss that too.”
Heading for the door, I gave him a wave. “Bye, Dad. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Win.”
After work, I went to Pilates class, then headed home. I kept wracking my brain for any valid reason I shouldn’t hit send on that reply to Sandra and coming up short. The pros were obvious, and any possible con was based solely in fear, and I didn’t want to be the sort of person who failed to chase a dream because she was scared.
But pretty soon, my thoughts strayed to Dex. As the water ran down my body, I thought about him in the shower. I wondered what he looked like naked. What his hands would feel like on my skin if he were here right now. What things he might do to me or say to me.
The water was hot, but I shivered.
I still couldn’t believe I’d had the nerve to get on his lap like that, to flirt with him and kiss him and provoke him. I’d felt so strong and brave and sexy. And no, he wasn’t gentle—but every time I thought about him sewing my dress, my heart melted. And I’d been smiling all day about the way he said goodnight, making sure to tell me he didn’t love me.
He was good at making me laugh. Being with him was so easy.
I got out of the shower, aimed the blow dryer at my head for five minutes, and threw on a cropped sweatshirt and shorts. Downstairs, I was hunting in the kitchen for a dinner idea when someone knocked on my door.
My pulse quickened.
Despite the fact that I was supposed to be playing it cool, I pretty much ran toward the door. With my hand on the knob, I forced myself to take a breath and assume a casual expression. Then I pulled it open.
“Hi,” he said, looking unbelievably sexy. His hair was damp and messy, like he’d just gotten out of the shower but hadn
’t bothered to comb it. His eyes immediately went to my bare midriff.
“Hey.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you a Frosty.”
I laughed and wagged my finger at him. “Good.”
“I was wondering if you had any smoked paprika.”
“Smoked paprika? I’m not sure, but come in and I’ll look.”
He followed me back to the kitchen, sending Piglet running for her life. “I decided to test out my new grill with some burgers. The paprika is for the seasoning.”
“That sounds good.” I opened a cupboard door and shuffled some dried herbs and spices around. Spotting some smoked paprika in the back, I grabbed it and set it on the counter. “There you go, neighbor.”
“Thanks. Have you eaten yet?”
“No, I was just about to make dinner.”
“Want to come over? I have plenty. I bought a pound of meat.”
“Come on, you can eat a pound of meat, no problem.” I poked him playfully in his stomach, which was rock hard.
He swatted my hand away and grabbed me by both arms, twisting them behind my back. “What I can do and what I should do are sometimes two different things.”
A hot little spark zipped up my spine. “Oh, are we playing this game again?”
“Does it feel like a game?” His hips anchored mine to the island.
“It feels like you came over here for something other than smoked paprika.”
“Maybe I did.”
“It also feels like I’m being arrested.”
“I’m not a cop.” Clamping one hand around my crossed wrists, he slid the other around to my belly and up the front of my sweatshirt. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and his palm covered one breast. “Right now, I’m not even sure I’m one of the good guys.”
My nipple tingled as he teased it with his fingers, pinching it hard enough to make me gasp. Heat began to pool at my center.
“I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day,” he growled, moving his hand down my shorts, inside my underwear. “About the way you taste. About the way you move. About the sounds you make when I put my tongue right here.” He brushed his fingertips lightly over my clit, and I moaned softly. “Yes,” he whispered. “Like that.”
“What else?” I asked breathlessly. “What else did you think about?”
He eased his fingers inside me. “I thought about how wet you were last night. About my cock inside you. About fucking you.”
My legs were trembling as he moved his fingers in and out of my body, rubbing slow, decadent circles over my clit. I pushed my ass back against him, and he laughed, low and gravelly.
“You want my cock again?” He put his fingers back inside me. “Right here?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“You have to say it.”
I chewed my lip a second. Could I?
“Say it,” he demanded, his hand going still. “Or I won’t give you what you want.”
“I want your cock again.”
“Say please.” He began to stroke me again.
“Please,” I panted.
“Good girl.” He rubbed me a little harder and faster in just the right spot. “But first you’re going to come—just like this.” He released my arms and I fell forward over the island, my palms flat on the counter. With his free hand, he gathered up my hair in his fist and tightened his fingers, holding my head still. I winced as pain prickled across my scalp, but it was a delicious contrast to the fluttering pleasure building between my legs. The muscles in my lower body began to hum and my core muscles pulled tighter and tighter, the tension thrilling and delicious. My knees buckled as the orgasm pulsed through me.
A moment later, he was yanking my shorts and underwear down. Straightening up, he spun me around and began to unbutton his jeans.
Then suddenly he closed his eyes and scowled. “Fuck!”
“What?” Still breathless, I blinked at him.
He inhaled. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t suppose you . . .”
I shook my head.
He took another deep breath and did up his pants. “Okay. Game over.”
“Well, wait a minute. It doesn’t have to be over.” I dropped to my knees in front of him and released the button on his jeans again.
“Hey.” He put his fingers under my chin.
I looked up at him, eyes wide with phony innocence as I unzipped his jeans. “What?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“You don’t want me to do this?” I pushed his hips back against the counter and tugged his jeans and boxer briefs to his knees. His cock sprang free, tall and thick and hard.
He braced the heels of his hands on the edge of the granite. “I didn’t say that.”
“I didn’t think so.” Taking his impressive erection in both hands, I licked my lips, then swept my tongue along the crown. He was warm and smooth, and I liked the way his breath came faster as I circled the head, slid my hands up and down the length of his shaft, allowed just an inch between my lips and sucked gently.
“Fuck, that feels so good.” His voice was raw with arousal, and I felt his cock swell and throb once against my palms. I moaned as I licked a salty droplet from the top. He continued to groan and growl and curse as I slowly licked him from root to tip, purposely not taking him deeper into my mouth. As I teased and played, I could sense the restraint in his body—how hard he was working to maintain control and not hold my head still so he could shove his dick to the back of my throat. Whenever he flexed his hips, I pulled back, laughing softly.
Finally, he put his hands on my head, threading his fingers into my hair and forcing me to meet his eyes. “Are you fucking messing with me?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, looking up at him with delight.
He clenched his jaw, torn between lust and fury. “Winnie.”
“What?”
“You know what I want.”
“I might,” I said coyly as his dick pulsed in my hands once more. “But you have to say it.”
His dark eyes gleamed with understanding. “You’re getting me back.”
“I’m just playing the game you started.” I grinned seductively. “So go on. Tell me what you want.”
For a second, I thought he wasn’t going to do it. I could see in his face the reluctance to get rough with me in this situation—I knew all he could think about was how much younger I was. But I also knew how badly he wanted this, and it gave me confidence to stand my ground.
Or kneel on it, anyway.
“I’m a big girl, Dex.” I licked him again. “I can take it.”
His hands tightened in my hair. “I want my cock in your mouth.”
I took him between my lips, the sensitive crown gliding over my tongue, and moved my hands to his muscular thighs.
“I want to watch you take it in deep. I want to see you suck it like you can’t get enough. I want to fuck your mouth until I come.” He went slow at first, pushing in and pulling back, forcing me to take him a little farther each time, until finally the tip reached the back of my throat. I panicked a little because I couldn’t breathe, and pushed back on his legs slightly.
He withdrew a couple inches, but not all the way. “What’s the matter, big girl? Can’t take it?”
Determined to prove I was worthy of his fantasy, capable of fulfilling his desires, I caught my breath and moved my hands to his hips, gripping them hard and sucking him with loud, greedy noises. He groaned and stayed still a minute, watching me working my mouth up and down his cock, which grew even harder and thicker. I could taste how close he was.
He took over then, thrusting deep and hard and fast, cursing and snarling, his hands holding my head in place while he fucked my mouth like he wanted to. I held on for dear life, trying not to choke or gag, desperately hoping I could last until he couldn’t.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he growled, giving me a warning.
But I wanted him to
finish just like this, so I stayed right where I was and moved one hand between his thighs, sliding my fingers along the crease and wrapping them around his balls. They tensed up as his body ceased moving, and within seconds I felt the quick throb and hot stream of his climax, heard the sudden inhalation of breath and then the low, prolonged moan of his pleasure.
When the pulsing subsided, I fell back onto my heels and gasped for air, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.
“Jesus Christ.” Dex looked dazed, maybe a little frightened. “That was insane.”
“But good?”
He stared at me. “Yeah. You won the game.”
I laughed triumphantly as I rose to my feet. “What do you say we call it a draw?”
“Works for me.” He zipped up his jeans and I went to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, but he caught my arm. “Hey.”
“Yes?”
“One of these days, I will actually get all your clothes off.”
I smiled. “We’ll see.”
Fourteen
Dex
I leaned back against the island in my kitchen, watching as Winnie formed three hamburger patties from the mixture in the bowl. “I promise I didn’t invite you over for dinner tonight just so you would make it.”
“Ha.”
“You think I have ulterior motives?”
She laughed. “I think we have already established what your motives were when you came knocking at my door.”
Coming up behind her, I locked an arm around her neck. “Hey. I just came over to borrow some paprika. It was your fault things turned sexy.”
“My fault!” She placed the last burger on a plate. “How’s that?”
“You answered the door in this little outfit.” I put my other hand on her belly. “How was I supposed to resist?”
She playfully elbowed me in the gut. “Let go of me, you brute. I’m hungry. And I’m really not in the mood to lecture you about why a woman’s clothes should not be blamed for a man’s behavior.”
Ignite: A Grumpy Single Dad Romance Page 14
