A Fairbanks Affair (An Odds-Are-Good Standalone Romance, #3)

by Katy Regnery

  I tear some extra toilet paper from the roll, wipe myself, and stand up on one foot. After I pull up my underwear, I hop to the sink and use the bar of soap in the saucer to wash my face and hands. My hair is a wild tangle, so I quickly French-braid it, hoping it will hold because I don’t have an elastic. Then I hop to the door and open it.

  Trevor is sitting on the floor, leaning against the doorway, and looks up at me.

  “There you are,” he says.

  “Here I am.”

  His eyes skim up my leg, and I realize I’m standing over him in nothing but an orthopedic boot, panties, and a T-shirt. I’ve never been this naked in front of a man who wasn’t my doctor, and it makes me blush.

  “Looking good,” he says, his lips turning up as his eyes find mine.

  “You’re a flirt.”

  He pushes off from the floor and stands up slowly, holding my eyes the whole time. When he’s standing at his full height, I have to tilt my neck back a little because he’s six or seven inches taller than me.

  “I’m just being honest. You look good in my T-shirt...and not much else.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  His hand, which had been dangling by his hip, rises to rest on my left jaw and cheek, gently cupping my face. “You’re welcome.”

  With infinite tenderness, he lowers his head, brushing his lips across mine. My eyes close, my upturned face straining to meet his, my arms reaching up to loop around his neck. There are short, bristly hairs back there that tickle my fingertips as he kisses me. His tongue sweeps slowly across my lips but doesn’t slide into my mouth.

  Without any warning, he lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing, still nipping at my lips, first the top, then the bottom. He grazes and pecks, brushes and teases, his breath warm and soft as it slips between my lips to mingle with mine.

  When he lowers me back to the bed, our lips part, and when my eyes open, I find him hovering over me, his beautiful face scanning mine with wonder.

  “I’m falling for you hard, Faye,” he says, his voice a soft rumble, his eyes worried and tender at once.

  In a flash of awareness, I remember what Marlena did to him, and I realize he needs me to reassure him, to comfort him, to let him know that—

  “You’re not alone,” I say, reaching up to caress his bristly cheek the same way he did to me. “I’m falling for you too.”

  He rotates his neck just enough to kiss my palm, then sighs, offering me a small, relieved smile. “Okay, sweetheart. You peed. You had a painkiller and water. How about something to eat?”

  On cue, my stomach rumbles, and I drop my hand, placing it over my belly. “Yes, please.”

  “Toast and eggs?”

  “Heaven,” I tell him.

  He leans down and kisses my forehead, pausing for a moment before straightening up again. “You’re not alone either. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

  I smile up at him, holding back my tears until he leaves the room and I can hear his footfalls on the stairs leading downstairs.

  And then I lean back on pillows that smell like Trevor, and I weep a little more...not because I feel sorry for myself, but because my heart brims with a tenderness I’ve never known before now.

  ***

  Two days later, I don’t know how much my foot has improved, but I’ve got the pain under control with a combination of Advil and Tylenol every six hours, and my prescription painkillers every twelve. Hopping, using the crutches, or wheeling myself around on Trevor’s old office chair, I can get to the bathroom or across the hallway to my makeshift office.

  I talked to Harry yesterday, explaining what happened and telling her that I’d no longer be in Boston next week.

  Her reaction surprised me:

  “Then I’ll come and see you in Fairbanks instead.”

  “No, Harry,” I said. “It’s too far, and—”

  “It’s not too far, and I don’t have to be back at school for two more weeks. I want to come and see you for a few days. If you say no, I’ll use my credit card and buy a ticket anyway, so you may as well agree, Faye.”

  Touched by her insistence, I had Carlene book her a ticket to Fairbanks, with a stopover in Seattle on the way home so that she can meet Karl and be the face of Findley Imports at the UNNW meeting on January seventh.

  At first, Harry said that she wasn’t ready for so much responsibility, but I assured her that Karl would take care of the negotiations. I just felt it was important for there to be a Findley present at the meeting, since, if it goes the way I hope, it will be a historic merger. Once I’d promised her that she was more of an observer than anything else, she seemed to get excited about the opportunity to see how our business works; plus, I’ll take some time while she’s visiting Fairbanks to coach her through what to expect.

  What I am learning, more than anything, is that dependence and delegation will be unavoidable over the next six weeks, and the sooner I embrace both and work within their frameworks and limitations, the better it will be for me and for my company.

  To that end, I have already promoted Karl Franklin to interim-CEO of Findley Imports, though I maintain my position as president. Knowing that my company rests in Karl’s loyal and capable hands is allowing me to breathe easier and cope more gracefully with my convalescence.

  Sitting at the desk in Trevor’s guest room, I write an emailed letter to the board, letting them know that Karl will be my voice over the next six to eight weeks and that they should regard his decisions as my own.

  Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

  At six o’clock, the alarm on my watch dings to tell me to get ready for Trevor’s and my New Year’s Eve celebration. This morning, he told me he’d be carrying me downstairs at seven o’clock for a champagne dinner and that neither my laptop nor my phone were invited.

  I close my laptop and use my hands to push away from the desk, wheeling myself into the guest room bathroom, which I have taken over. Holding on to the robe hook next to the shower, I undress on one foot, then sit on the side of the tub to unbuckle my boot. As carefully as I can, I remove it, maneuver my body into the shower, and stand on one foot as I shower for the first time since Friday.

  Lord, it feels...good.

  As I soap my body and delight in the hot water sluicing down my aching muscles, I think about everything Trevor has done for me over the past two days.

  By welcoming me into his home, helping me acclimate to the limitations of my injured body, making our meals and sitting beside me in his bed at night as we work side by side on our laptops, he’s given me a glimpse into the life I could have with him. And I find—more and more—that it’s the only life I can see for myself. The only life I want for myself. Day by day, my longing is deeper and stronger, my feelings growing at a breakneck speed as he continues to prove to me that he could be—no...is—everything I want for the rest of my life.

  Although there is one area of our relationship that is yet untested.

  Though our comfort with one another and sense of intimacy increases daily, our physical relationship has not advanced with the same swiftness as our emotional connection.

  It’s not lost on me that in the original iteration of my New Year’s plans, I would’ve lost my virginity to a stranger by now. Instead, because of circumstances beyond my control, I’m on the verge of falling in love with Trevor Starling, though we have barely progressed beyond kissing.

  The strangest thing of all, however, is the fact that I no longer think of my virginity as something to “get rid of” but as something I will willingly give to a man I respect and trust—a man for whom I have vibrantly alive, constantly deepening feelings that are rooted in a foundation I didn’t know we were building until I felt the beautiful bright-green tendrils of affection, of tenderness, of longing, bursting through the dark ground and reaching heavenward to the bright sun of his love.

  Chapter 11

  Trevor

  On January third, I arrange for Inez to stay the day at my house so I can g
o to the offices of North Star Spirits without worrying about Faye.

  Good intentions aside, however, I’m getting absolutely nothing done.

  My mind is full of her: her touch, her scent, the sounds she makes when I’m kissing her, when I’m touching her, when she orgasms—

  I blink at my computer screen, filling my lungs with a deep breath and forcing myself to calm down, but the memories linger and my dick strains against the zipper of my jeans.

  We almost had sex on New Year’s Eve.

  Wait. Let me back up.

  When I went upstairs at seven o’clock, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me. I knew she’d taken a shower because her hair, tumbling freely around her shoulders, was still damp. And instead of my T-shirt and panties, she was wearing these flimsy little shorts with flowers on them, a white V-neck T-shirt and a loose-fitting, fuzzy blue sweat shirt.

  My eyes shot to the shorts, then skimmed up to her face.

  “The boot makes pants tough.” She shrugged, giving me a little smile. “I didn’t bring any shorts to Alaska, except these. They’re pajama bottoms.”

  I nodded, wishing she was wearing the top too, which I assumed was just as flimsy.

  “Ready for New Year’s Eve?” I asked her.

  She raised her arms, and I scooped her into mine, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and shower gel, and reveling in the comfortable weight of her body as I carried her down the stairs, brimming with anticipation. I’d spent hours this afternoon preparing for tonight.

  As we got to the bottom of the stairs, where the living room was in full view, I heard her gasp softly, and in that moment, all my hard work was worth it.

  “Trevor!” She sighed. “It’s so beautiful!”

  I’d roped white lights on the rafters, and there was a fire roaring in the fireplace. But on every surface, including the table set for two, were votive candles, flicking with soft white light, and making the whole room magical.

  “Happy New Year’s Eve, sweetheart,” I said, waiting for her eyes as they scanned the room before returning to me. “Mr. Fairbanks promised a night to remember, so...”

  “You’re amazing, Trevor.”

  With her arms still looped around my neck, she pulled my face closer to hers and pressed her lips to mine, sweeping her tongue inside of my mouth with a low moan. Kissing her back, I crossed the room and lowered myself to the couch with Faye still in my arms, cradled on my lap.

  Go slow, I told myself. Let her be in charge.

  Her fingers wound through my hair, and she turned slightly in my arms, pressing her chest to mine, wiggling to get closer to me, her breathing shallow and erratic. One of my hands slipped beneath her shirt and sweat shirt, flattening on the smooth, warm plane of her stomach. She gasped softly, then arched her back, inviting me to touch her further.

  As we kissed, my hand skimmed upward, trailing over the curves of her ribs to the soft flesh beneath her breasts. And that’s when I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts, perfect handfuls of warm, silky flesh, were unbound, waiting to be touched, maybe for the first time.

  I gently caressed them with the back of my hand, feeling the tight pucker of her nipples and encouraged by her sharp intake of breath. Carefully, reminding myself that this precious woman may not have ever been in a position this intimate, this vulnerable, before now, I covered one breast with the palm of my hand. Squeezing and kneading gently, my mouth watered, hungry to take those stiff points of flesh between my mouth and love them the same way I was kissing her lips, with nips and tugs, gentle bites and licks.

  Breaking our kiss and dragging my hand away from her breast, I picked her up, then laid her back down on the couch, careful to elevate her boot on the arm.

  “Trust me?” I asked.

  Her eyes, dark and drunk with desire, looked up at me. “Implicitly.”

  I knelt beside her, pushing up her shirt and sweat shirt until her beautiful breasts were bared to me, the light-pink areolas circling darker-pink nipples.

  “Fuck,” I sighed. “You’re gorgeous.”

  Her smile was small and trusting. “If you say so.”

  “I do,” I said, leaning my head down to take one puckered nub between my lips.

  Licking and sucking the tight bud gently, I felt myself getting hard as she strained under my touch, tiny whimpers and moans slipping from her lips as I skimmed my own over her skin to take the other nipple into my mouth.

  “Teeeeee,” she sighed, plunging her hands into my hair. She pulled and twisted the strands, which hurt but also turned me on. My other hand slid down her chest, over her belly, and under the waistband of her shorts.

  I leaned up from her breasts as my fingers touched down on a small, neat patch of hair.

  “Is this...okay?” I asked, my voice rough and raspy.

  “Mm-hm,” she murmured, digging the back of her head into the couch cushion as my fingers glided into her slickened folds to find her clit.

  She whimpered with pleasure, her pelvis pushing upward slightly to meet my touch. With one hand, I caressed her breast, and with the other, I rubbed tiny circles around the erect button of her sex, listening for the sounds of her moans and whimpers, which became faster and louder until her body seized under my fingers, and she cried out my name, “T-Trevor!”

  As she rode out the waves of her orgasm with eyes closed, I leaned up to kiss her. She panted into my mouth, moaning softly with aftershocks, and when her eyes finally opened, looking up at me, I felt like a fucking god.

  “Wow,” she murmured.

  “Good?” I asked, pulling her shirt back down over her breasts.

  “So good,” she hummed, reaching for my face and looking into my eyes. “But I want more.”

  Fuck. Were sweeter words ever uttered?

  “More...how?”

  “More...everything.” She bit her bottom lip, still staring up at me. “I want to have sex with you. I want you to...make love to me.”

  My heart.

  I didn’t think my heart would ever fall in love again.

  I thought—after Marlena and Cez betrayed me—that true love simply wasn’t in the cards for me. What I didn’t know, was that I just hadn’t met the right woman yet. But then I knew, in the depths of my soul, that the plan was never for me to be with Marlena. All along, I was meant for Faye.

  “I...” I swallowed. My feelings for you are so strong, I thought. I want your first time to be perfect. I want you to be sure. “We don’t have to rush.”

  She leaned up on one elbow, her brows creased. “You don’t want to?”

  “Sweetheart,” I said. “I’m dying to.”

  I sat down on the couch beside her and took her hand, pressing it over the zipper of my jeans so she could feel my hard, straining cock.

  Her cheeks colored, but she didn’t move her hand away.

  “Then...”

  Raising her hand to my lips and kissing it, I looked deeply into her eyes. “There’s no rush. We have time.”

  “I know that. But I want—”

  “I need you to be sure,” I said, and suddenly I realized that my hesitation was just as much for her sake as it was for mine. “I lost a lot this year, Faye. It would hurt me to lose you too. I don’t know how I’d come back from it.”

  “Trevor,” she whispered, “you’re not going to lose me. In fact, you’re stuck with me...until February.”

  “Thank God.” I chuckled softly, nodding at her. “I want you, sweetheart. I’ve never wanted any woman on earth as much as I want you.” I leaned forward to kiss her. “But my feelings for you are growing really fast, and they’re really strong. I’m guessing you feel the same?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “Then give yourself a little more time. A few more days. I want you to be sure.”

  Tilting her head to the side, she stared at me for a long moment, then took a deep breath and let it go. “Okay.”

  I kissed her again, then headed into the kitchen to pour us each a s
pecial New Year’s Eve cocktai—

  “Trevor? Trev! I’ve called your name five times, man!”

  At some point during my daydream, I had turned my chair around to look out the window in my office, at the traffic in the tasting room. Now I turn back around to find Baz sitting in a guest chair in front of me. Jesus. I didn’t even hear him enter my office.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he says, his blue eyes merry. “What were you thinking about?”

  I grin at him. “I met someone.”

  “I heard,” he tells me.

  “You heard? I only met her last week!”

  “Uh-huh. First from Mom and Dad...then from Cez, via Marlena.”

  “Well, aren’t you just the family’s busybody?”

  “You’ve had a shitty few months. We’re all...” He shrugs. “Happy for you.”

  “Yeah, well...we’ll see what happens.”

  “Tell me about her,” says Baz, who’s always been more of a romantic than me.

  I lean forward, folding my hands on my desk. “She’s from Boston. She owns one the biggest liquor distribution companies in the country.”

  “Huh. That’s a lucky connection.”

  It occurs to me that Faye hasn’t mentioned buying my company over the last few days, and I wonder if she’s given up. I’ll miss the banter, but the reality is that I really don’t want to sell right now. I like it that my brothers and I are in business together, and I don’t want someone else to oversee my company. I still enjoy being a business owner too much to turn over the reins to someone else. Even her.

  “She actually came up here to check us out.”

  “North Star? Really? We’re famous as far away as Boston?”

  “I don’t know about famous,” I say, “but her acquisitions guy called me back in November, poking around about a possible sale. So I guess we’ve been on their radar, yeah.”

  “What did you say at the time?”

  “No.”

  “Without talking to me and Cez?”

  “I’d buy out your forty-nine percent before I’d let you sell to someone else.”