Cupid In Heels

by Suzanne Halliday

  He couldn’t wait to be Chelsea’s dad. They were going to have an amazing relationship. He was so certain of this because they’d bonded instantly.

  “Do we have to drink the coffee? I know you made it special and all, but something else has come up.”

  She shimmied on his front and discovered exactly what he meant.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gyrated on his bulging erection and whispered into his ear, “I like when something else comes up. Day or night, darling, just let me know. Maybe we’ll have a secret signal.” She chuckled. “And when you call, I’ll be there.”

  John squeezed the crap out of her with his enthusiastic hug.

  “Um, one thing. Language. I get a bit crude at times. It’s a guy thing that being shy didn’t affect.”

  “That sounds like a disclaimer preceding whatever filthy thought you’re trying to censor. I’m a firm believer in the old adage, ‘a lady in public and a slut in private,’ so have at it.” She sniggered.

  “Good, good,” he drawled. “Then be advised that I shall be taking you up on your day or night assurance.”

  “Oh, it’s more than an assurance, Mr. Lloyd. It’s a guarantee.”

  “Then you can think about this. Sooner or later, I’m going to fuck you in my office. On the desk. In broad daylight. The goal will be to end with a puddle beneath you.”

  She reared back, stared at him, and then roared with laughter.

  “My boss is very strict about taking breaks. You’ll only have fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to ravish me. Think you can handle that?”

  “Sam,” he growled. “You don’t work anymore. Not for me. Not for anyone. You’re a stay-at-home mom from now on. And you’ll have a car to run around town in. It’s not up for negotiation,” he forcefully asserted when she started to disagree.

  “Excuse me?”

  The expression on her face was damn hard to read. Was she about to rip him a new one?

  “Was that a step too far with the macho thing? Shit. Sorry but not really. I’m serious, honey. It’s admirable that you want to resist but tough shit. And this isn’t a case of me wanting to say my wife doesn’t work. I know you, Sam. I saw how you were that day we spent at the museum. Being with Chelsea, enjoying her childhood, being the best goddamn parent you can be ... it’s part of you.”

  “So what? You’re putting your foot down and making a bunch of alpha proclamations because you know what’s best for me?”

  “Yep.”

  He remained stoic but was frantically in silent prayer he wasn’t making a mistake.

  “Well, alrighty then,” she chirped. “Let me just turn off the coffee so you can take me back to bed and introduce me more intimately to this lurking alpha.”

  When she turned around and leaned to switch off the coffeemaker, he swatted her butt and belted out, “Hurry up, woman.”

  She jumped and yelped then fell into his arms as her laughter bounced off the walls.

  “Shh.” He growled the way she liked and added a tsk-tsk for emphasis. “Our daughter is asleep. Control yourself or I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

  Sam slapped a hand over her mouth and continued laughing. Then she sobered up, took his hand, and led him from the kitchen. Halfway down the hallway, she whispered, “Will this lesson include a spanking? Asking for a friend,” she teased.

  In the bedroom, he quickly stripped off his shirt and tore her robe off.

  “I’ve never done that before ... spanked a grown woman. Any woman, any age,” he added.

  “I’m a spanking virgin, but with you? I think I’d like to find out what all the hoopla is about.”

  “Sounds to me like a bit of research is in order.”

  “I agree,” she said with a bright smile. “As long as we do the research together.”

  “Mmm, sounds like fun. Agreed,” he drawled as they shook hands.

  “Now, about the day and night pledge.” He looked around her bedroom. “Fiancée’s choice. Where do you want to do it?”

  Her hands were on his pants and working the zipper so fast, he barely had time to take a breath.

  “I want you in that chair, the one without arms. Let’s see if we can ruin the upholstery.”

  He watched her take control of removing his slacks and grinned when his cock sprang into view.

  “Unless it’s waterproof, that poor chair is going to get drenched.”

  “Flooded,” she primly snapped.

  “I stand corrected.” John smirked.

  She neglected to mention the part about getting on her knees to suck the life out of his cock or how perfectly her big breasts bounced when she rode him like a filthy rodeo gal as she drove them to a mind-blowing finish that completely soaked the damn chair.

  Ryan spooned ice cream from the pint of Häagen-Dazs in his hand as he leaned against the wall and watched Jen roll around with Goober. It was impossible not to witness this side of the lady without being utterly astonished at how carefully she’d hidden her true self.

  He understood more than she realized. Adventuring the planet wasn’t the only thing he did. He was like her in some ways because he also had a public and a private face.

  The Ryan Lloyd who globetrotted and made exploring new worlds and places and cultures an in thing was who the public saw.

  But he was more than just an outdoor cover model. His extensive travels opened his eyes, and when he wasn’t doing Lloyd Global work, he volunteered in any capacity he could with dozens of charity projects and third world missions.

  He’d constructed schools, dug through mudslides, helped build a dam, and done conservation work in some pretty unforgiving environments.

  Kids, especially girls, and the way they were used, bartered, bought, and sold like pieces of firewood gutted him. A universe of difference existed between a girl in Africa fighting for a chance to just go to school and Jen’s privileges, but he still got it.

  She wanted to be seen as a person first. Not through the lens of her gender.

  At the present moment, however, she was making his dog fall in love with her. Goober was never this silly with him. He was all over her and acting like a tail wagging, face licking, overly enthusiastic puppy. Since his wolf dog wasn’t a purse pup, it was all kinds of comical when the big bushy goofball tried to squeeze onto her lap as she sat cross-legged against a wall.

  Jen took it all in stride. Nothing the dog did fazed her in the least. Not even the slobbering tongue swipes. She cradled the ridiculous beast like a baby and told him how handsome a pooch he was.

  Ryan finished the ice cream about the same time he admitted he was jealous of the damn dog.

  “I think he likes me,” she exclaimed. “Does he have any toys? Where are they?”

  Okay. That was enough with his pet. He hadn’t brought her here to break out the dog toys.

  “Are you going to be one of those wives who gets chummy with all my guy friends?”

  His accompanying wince was because he heard the petulant whine in his voice and felt a stab of embarrassment.

  She wrestled the large dog off her lap and stood. He glared at Goober who completely ignored him.

  “I think it’s sweet that you consider him a guy friend.”

  Ryan grumped. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Ignoring him, rather like his dog, she started walking around the house to check things out.

  “Wow,” she murmured when a cook’s dream kitchen came into view. “This is incredible. They must make a lot of money on a rental like this. Smart business model.”

  “There are only so many tents, hammocks, and hotel rooms I can take. If I’m someplace for long, I like to live like a normal person.”

  “And what about now? This is temporary, right?” she asked with a wave of her hand at the surroundings. “If you’re the face of the new store, don’t you have to have a base of operations in the city that is more permanent?”

  He sighed. “Still haven’t had many chances to think through all the details. I
hope you’re okay with Denver being our official home. I’m still committed to my responsibilities with the outdoor division. The blog that started all of it is about me. I figured once the store is established, I’d work remotely. I’m putting together a team to manage the day to day and run the cash register.”

  “Maybe you should take on a protégé? Someone you could mentor to step into the globetrotting thing?”

  “That’s a really good idea.”

  They shared a smile. She had compelling eyes that hid nothing from him. He found it incredibly easy to become lost in her chocolate gaze.

  “I’ve never been to Denver, but from what I know of Colorado, it sounds wonderful. And as far as having a base of operations here, we can live at my place. Us and Goober. It’s perfect. He can be outside. There’s plenty of room once I clear away my clutter. No sense in wasting money or real estate.”

  “Who owns your place?”

  “I don’t think I even know whose name is on the deed. It’s been in the family for generations. If I didn’t need it, I’m afraid the beautiful old place might sit empty.”

  The sweep of her long lashes distracted him when she lowered her eyes and gave a self-conscious shrug that contradicted the self-assured ballbuster he’d known her to be.

  “It’s just a suggestion. I know it’s old and probably a shithole by Lloyd standards.”

  “Are you kidding?” he asked with a laugh. “Wait till you see Mom’s place. My folks bought this sprawling nightmare of hodge-podge styles because it seemed lonely. I’m not shitting. That’s the way she tells the story!” he emphatically told her. “And guess what? There’s an equally sprawling mess of greenhouses in the backyard.”

  Jen gasped, and her eyes grew large. “Your dad? How wonderful.”

  “So, um, speaking of Mom and the house.”

  She came to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “Relax. I’m letting you off the hook because I like you so much.”

  “Seriously?” he asked. “So does that mean I don’t have to come up with a raft of bullshit about this dinner with Mom event?”

  “This one time, Imma give you a pass. But you have to promise that from here on out, you let me deal with Constance Nelson Lloyd.”

  “And her evil, shit stirring twin?” he joked.

  “Her too.”

  Ryan considered the very deliberate way she delivered her statement. “Is that a thing? When the son’s wife runs the interference now? I could get used to that.”

  “Enjoy it and then keep this in mind. You’ll have a mother-in-law to schmooze for the rest of your life. It works out, don’t you think?”

  “Are we really going to do this, Jen? You’re not just playing, are you, babe, because I’m serious as a heart attack.”

  “You haven’t shown me the upstairs yet.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he searched her face, but she was the picture of innocence.

  “You want a house tour? When I asked a serious question.”

  He wasn’t sure what to do when she pushed away and started walking. “Upstairs, I assume?” she asked while pointing at the stairs.

  She was halfway to the top when she turned around and made a face. “Are you seriously just going to stand there when I’m trying to find a bedroom?”

  “The bedrooms are upstairs,” he mumbled.

  She skipped back down the stairs and took his face in her hands.

  “Oh, my god. You and John share more than a last name. Are all the Lloyd men this thick? Ryan. A bedroom. Why? A bed. Caught up with me yet?”

  “Oh,” he mumbled when it finally dawned on him what she was doing.

  She took his hand and started back up the steps. “It’s okay. I’ll find a bed. You just follow along.”

  The whole thing was so funny he started howling with laughter.

  15

  John kept looking for help from Samantha as he navigated the weirdness of Chelsea confronting them over the breakfast table about why he was suddenly so chummy with her mom.

  He wished it was earlier—when he’d risen an hour before her and had watched while she slept. After the chair rodeo, they’d gone to bed only to make love again deep in the night. Samantha was a generous lover who held nothing back. He found her joyful spirit intoxicating. Her desire to share his pleasure made his soul soar.

  But now in the harsher light of day, they were facing a new reality. One where the rest of the world gained access to their private happiness. Starting with Chelsea.

  His nerves were so tight, he worried something would snap.

  At first, Samantha tried to make it seem as though him appearing for breakfast was an everyday thing. Chelsea regarded them with the curiosity he expected of a kid her age.

  She was making him sweat bullets.

  At the kitchen table, they went through a strange pantomime that began with Chelsea inspecting him like an on-the-case FBI agent. By reflex, he touched the knot of his tie as though it was a magic shield.

  John sought Samantha’s eyes when it became apparent that seven-year-olds were immune to that sort of stuff.

  “Um, sweetie. Did you remember to put the book you were reading last night in your backpack?”

  Chelsea dropped the piece of bacon she’d been munching onto her plate and brushed her fingers with a napkin.

  “Mom, relax. I’ve got this.”

  He reached for his coffee in time to hide the smile that was dying for a home on his face. It sure did seem to him as though making her mom sweat a few bullets was also on Chelsea’s agenda. Thank god, the kid’s friendly fire wasn’t just directed at him.

  That didn’t mean he was prepared when her head turned, and she met his gaze with wide-eyed skepticism.

  “Oh, wait,” she mumbled. Then she brightened. “Are you picking Mom up for work? Is that why you’re here?”

  Samantha almost knocked over a juice glass, and John was certain his eye was twitching.

  “Um.” Yeah. That was all he had. Real eloquent, you dumb shit.

  Reacting like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Samantha cleared her throat and gave her daughter a smile.

  “Actually, Chels. Mr. Lloyd, um, John ... is here as my friend.”

  She was ramping up for a speech when the kid cut her off.

  “Is this a sleepover? Jody’s mom has sleepovers all the time. Mrs. Porter has a lot of boyfriends.” Chelsea shrugged, but her obvious disapproval shook him up.

  “What?” Samantha barked. “No. Most certainly not. Sleepovers? No.” She shook her head emphatically, but all her daughter did was put off an unconvinced vibe.

  He weighed in rather glumly. “Your mother does not do sleepovers.”

  Undeterred, the way-too-observant kid offered scenario number two.

  “So … you’re hooking up? Is that it?”

  Samantha reacted with both outrage and shock.

  “Hook up? Sleepover? What are you talking about? And where the hell did you learn these things?”

  Chelsea smirked and delivered a zinger before shutting them both down with her final words.

  “No swearing at the breakfast table, remember?” Her head swiveled back and forth once between him and her mother, and then she said, “Jeez, Mom. I’m seven, not five.”

  Then she shrugged like none of it was a big deal and attacked a piece of toast smeared with strawberry jam.

  “It’s cool if you wanna hook up. You’re okay,” she said directly to him.

  He chuckled. This was a new wrinkle! “Do you know what the word clarify means?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Chelsea said with a giggle. “It means an adult thinks a kid is stupid.”

  Samantha dropped her face into her hands and groaned. He wanted to high five the kid—but hesitated because he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate—and then figured, fuck it, and held up his palm.

  Her little hand smacking his was the coolest thing ever.

  He relaxed and sat back. The kid had every right to rake him an
d her mom over the coals. Draining his coffee, he looked at Sam and shrugged.

  “Chels,” she stammered to begin. “I want to explain something about me and John.”

  “Mom,” she grunted through a mouthful of crumbs and jam. “I’m not dumb. You talk about him all the time. Mr. Lloyd did this. Mr. Lloyd said that. And then you started calling him John.” She rolled one shoulder and giggled. “That’s how this stuff works, right?”

  “Well,” Sam murmured. He watched as she touched her blazing red cheeks. “Yes, it is. I guess. I don’t know, really. But sweetie, I wanted you to know right away that I’m in love with him and …”

  He jolted upright in his seat. “Hold up! What did you say?”

  She smiled at him and winked. His heart filled with happiness. She’d waited until Chelsea was present to say the words out loud. He felt nothing but admiration and respect for the mother and was overcome with love for the woman.

  Chelsea perked up. She must have sensed the change in tone.

  “So anyway, we, um, well, we thought we would get married and … “

  “Married?” Chelsea squealed. “For real?”

  John saw his opening, and he took it.

  “Now, slow down,” he said to Sam. Reaching for the hand wearing his ring, he kissed her fingers and gave a little squeeze.

  “I asked your mom to marry me last night, and I gave her a ring, but it’s not official. Not yet.”

  “Why not?” Chelsea asked.

  He sat back, slid a hand into his pocket, and took out his wallet. From a slot in the billfold, he pulled out a gold necklace with a tiny diamond-encrusted heart. Samantha looked like she might cry when he scooted the chair back so he could get on one knee.

  “Chelsea, I love your mom very much. I think she’s the bravest and coolest chick ever!”

  The awestruck seven-year-old giggled and nodded her agreement.

  “And I told her that I wanted to be a part of your life so we can be a family. The three of us. Your mom and me and you.”

  He held up the necklace. “With this little heart, I’m making a promise, Chelsea. To you as well as your mom. If you’ll have me, I want to take care of you both and”—he swallowed and took a deep breath—“be your dad.”