Fools in Love (Foolish at Heart Book 3)

by R. C. Martin

  It was getting late in the afternoon, but the sun still shined bright. I uncapped my lens and made my way to the opposite side of the pool, wishing to see what I could capture of the spectacular view. I could hardly wait for sunset—but the world I saw through my view finder even then was wonderful. I hoped some of our weekend plans would include a trek through the hills I photographed in the distance.

  So lost in what I was doing, I didn’t hear it when Judah joined me. It wasn’t until he grazed the back of his fingers down my naked side that I realized he was there. I lowered my camera away from my face and smiled up at him as I spoke.

  “Hi.”

  “I thought you wanted to get in the pool,” he teased through a smirk.

  Lifting a single shoulder in a shrug, I admitted, “I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Mmhmm,” he hummed before he leaned down to kiss me. I thought he’d only linger for a moment. When he licked his way across the seam of my mouth, I happily opened up for him. Then I felt his hand slide across the small of my back and down over one of my butt cheeks before he gave me a squeeze. I giggled. With his mouth still against mine, he muttered, “I couldn’t help myself.”

  Coyly, I replied, “I’m yours when you want me.”

  He grunted and tapped my ass. “Don’t I know it. Come ‘ere. I opened a bottle.”

  He left my side before I could protest, and I glanced over my shoulder to find a bottle of chardonnay and two wine glasses set up on the edge of the pool. I wasted not another moment before I went to set aside my camera on one of the lounge chairs by the fire pit. Judah was filling the second glass when I stepped into the warm water of the pool. Just then, it hit me like a tidal wave—the reminder that he was mine, this was our life, and I was the luckiest woman in the world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Him

  After a quick and easy breakfast Saturday morning, I took Teddy and her camera to the Santa Monica Pier. We walked the beach, explored Pacific Park, and wandered along the boardwalk before we stopped for lunch. When we were ready to set out again, I escorted her back to the car, and our driver took us to Topanga State Park. We hiked a couple of trails for the rest of the afternoon, until we were both tired and ready to head back to the villa. We stayed in that night, cooking dinner together before we dined outside. We took our time and lounged until the sun began to set, heading inside only for the privacy the rest of our evening required.

  We moved slower Sunday morning. After we were dressed for the day, we went to Beverly Hills for brunch. When I suggested we wander down Rodeo Drive, she agreed without hesitation—then immediately made me promise not to buy her anything. I told her I’d be a fool to make such promises. A couple hours later, when a pair of heels in a window display caught her eye, she didn’t fight me as I ensured they became hers. After a drive through Hollywood—where we stopped upon spotting an art gallery—we returned to the house to get ready for dinner.

  It was eight o’clock when we were seated at a table for two at Craft—the upscale, farm-to-table restaurant I was sure Teddy would like. I’d made the reservation the same night I booked the rest of our travel plans, sure I wanted us to dine out on the evening of our anniversary. Staying consistent with the rest of my plans, it was located on the west side of Los Angeles, which kept us out of the downtown area.

  She’d called our trip a bribe when I first mentioned it. Of course that hadn’t been my intent—but that didn’t mean there was no strategy to my plan. I wanted her to experience a taste of what life might look like. Sure, we’d been tourists for the majority of the weekend, but I wanted her to see Santa Monica not just as my woman, in the midst of considering a change for me. I wanted her to see it through the lens of her camera—through the eyes of my woman, who was an artist.

  As we took our seats and perused the menu, I snuck a peek at her bare shoulders—sprinkled with a few more freckles than had been there a few days before. I noted the ease with which she sat, and the unhurried way she absorbed her choices. I knew then I’d done what I set out to do. All that was left was to wait and enjoy my wife in the process.

  I still didn’t have a plan B, and it would have been a lie to say I never spared a thought to work for the duration of the weekend. However, uninterrupted time with Teddy—away from deadlines, contracts, color swatches, and employees—it was like hitting a reset button. I knew, no matter what her decision was, my choice in her was one I was incapable of regretting. My choice in her superseded any other choice I could possibly make. Whether we moved to California or not, I would find something else to chase; another goal to fulfill; but I’d never find another her. And every tomorrow, she would still be mine.

  We had champagne, in honor of the occasion, and shared dessert after our meal. There was no question in either of our minds what we’d pick—and the three different flavors of house-made ice cream were the perfect way to end our date. Then, with every intention of spending the rest of the night inside of Teddy, I saw to it that we returned to the villa.

  Upon our arrival, we headed to the bedroom without discussion. It wasn’t until we stepped over the threshold that Teddy stopped me.

  “Wait,” she murmured as I pulled her into my arms. She pressed her hands against my chest. “Will you give me just a few minutes? I won’t be long, I promise.”

  “If you insist.”

  Teddy lifted up onto her tiptoes and touched her lips to mine. “I do,” she whispered, turning out of my hold.

  I let her go without protest and watched as she disappeared into the bathroom. When I was alone, I shrugged out of my sports jacket and tossed it onto the edge of the bed. I then made my way toward the double doors, which led to the terrace. As I stepped outside, I tugged the hem of my shirt from the confines of my belt and began to unfasten the buttons. The breeze that evening was cool against my chest. I propped myself up against the ledge, overlooking the backyard and the expansive view beyond. The darkness of night made the city in the distance light up beneath the star-studded sky. For a moment, I lost track of how long Teddy was making me wait.

  I heard the click of her heels as she approached, but I didn’t turn to look back at her. When she was in reaching distance, she slid her arms around my waist. I straightened as she felt her way up over my abs and across my chest. I was prepared for everything I knew would come next—until what came next was the opposite of what I expected.

  She pressed a kiss against my shoulder and then whispered, “I want a view. Something amazing to wake up to every morning. And I want a pool. And our house—it has to have a guest room. No, two. Maybe three, so our friends and family can stay with us when they come visit.”

  I froze, my eyes still staring straight ahead while my attention was focused solely on the sound of her voice. With a slight frown, I managed to mutter, “Theodora, are you—”

  “If you have to work on the weekend,” she interrupted, “we agree on a time limit. Our marriage is important, and I won’t let you disappear. Also, when I go home for a visit, four out of five times, you come with me.”

  I tried to turn, but she held me tighter—until her front was completely flush with my back.

  “I’m sure I’ll have more conditions—conditions I haven’t thought of yet—so if you agree, remember you’re agreeing with the stipulation that I can add more if I need to. Deal?”

  “Baby…” This time, when I grabbed one of her hands and pulled, she didn’t resist.

  I hardly noticed the floral print, short silk robe she had on, too intent on searching for answers in her hazel-brown eyes. The light from the bedroom spilled out onto the terrace just enough for me to see the sincerity of her unwavering gaze.

  “You’re saying yes?”

  “I’m saying—I want everything with you. Let’s go on an adventure.”

  She’d left me speechless. Taking her face in my hands, I crushed my lips against hers in a hard kiss. I felt it when she leaned into me, as if asking for more. We opened our mouths together, tangling our tongue
s as we allowed our kiss to say all the things which couldn’t be said with words. I let go of her face only after she slid her hands up my chest and beneath the shirt at my shoulders. Still, we remained lip-locked as I helped rid my body of the garment. As soon as it was on the ground, her hands were at my waist, pushing me backwards.

  Finally severing my mouth from hers, I searched her face even as I followed her silent insistence. When my backside was against the glass of the terrace ledge, she captured her bottom lip between her teeth and began to unfasten my belt. It was when she eased down the zipper of my pants that I realized she was wearing the strappy, high-heeled stilettos we’d purchased that afternoon.

  “Sweetheart…” I mumbled. She slid her hand beneath the waistband of my boxer briefs in search of my semi-hard shaft. While we weren’t exactly out in the open, we were still outside. Her boldness was as sexy as it was unexpected.

  As if dissatisfied with the state of my penis, she let me go and took a step away from me. She wet her lips, reaching for the belt of her short robe, and hesitated only a second before she untied herself and shrugged her way out of the silk.

  I muttered a curse as a rush of blood raced toward my crotch. I was fully erect at the sight of her. The bra she had on was burgundy, with straps which wrapped around her slender figure down to her waist. However, what made it so exceptional was that the cups meant to hold her perky breasts were nonexistent. Additionally, the matching panties she wore had an opening at her entrance. The full effect of her look was breathtaking.

  This time, when she closed the distance between us, I could feel her hardened nipples as they grazed my chest. She reached for my length and smiled at what she found. “Happy anniversary, baby,” she hummed before she descended to her knees.

  The moment she took me into her mouth, I knew I wouldn’t be able to let her stay down there long. I was so aroused, the only way I’d find complete satisfaction was if I fucked her as badly as I wanted. When she hummed and hollowed her cheeks, I wondered if she’d ever made me so hard. It begged the question—how wet is my wife?

  I buried my fingers in her thick locks and yanked her away from me. The heat I found in her hungry gaze matched my own, and I didn’t waste a second before scooping her off her feet and carrying her inside. With her legs wrapped around my hips, and the exposure brought about by the cut of her panties, I could feel her desire as it smeared against my abdomen.

  “I love you so much,” she breathed, raking her fingers through my hair.

  “Fuck, I love you,” I grunted before I tossed her onto the bed.

  I was naked as fast as I could manage. Though, as much as I wanted to bury myself inside of Teddy, her bare nipples called to me. Propped over her, I captured one between my lips and sucked—hard. The sound of her whimper coupled with the way she arched her back in search of more made me impatient. Flicking her hardened bud with my tongue, I reached down and smoothed my fingers across her slick entrance.

  “Judah,” she panted, fisting her fingers in my hair.

  I freed one nipple with a pop only to go in search of the other. As I sucked, I pushed two fingers into her sex, and she bucked her hips in excitement. This was all the foreplay I could handle. I replaced my fingers with my painfully hard length immediately. The feel of her warm, soft, drenched core was perfection. When I began to pump in and out of her, she wrapped her legs around me, and the heels of her shoes scraped the back of my legs. I thought I might lose my mind in the height of our passion.

  The faster I bucked my hips, the louder her moans became, until her orgasm rushed through her and robbed her of her voice entirely. I didn’t hold back but surrendered to the beckoning effect of her tightened, fluttering sex. I was still hard after we’d both come, each of us fighting for breath. Lazily, I continued to rock in and out of her—the evidence of our shared climax keeping me aroused.

  I traced my nose down the length of Teddy’s and announced, “You’re going to come a lot more tonight.”

  She giggled airily, then breathed, “Okay.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hers

  I stood in front of the mirror with my hands pressed against my stomach. As I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, I wasn’t thinking about the gorgeous white jumpsuit I had picked out for the occasion; how the way it was draped from the single sleeve and across my body made me look elegant; or how the cut of the pants made it look like I had legs for days. I gave hardly any thought to how shiny and straight my hair was after my visit to the salon that morning, or how it was still streaked beautifully from all the time Judah and I spent out in the sun the weekend of our anniversary. Mostly, as I stared at my reflection, I was hoping I wouldn’t throw up.

  “There you are,” said Judah as he strolled into the closet. He pressed a kiss against my temple in passing, and I knew he’d come to don the jacket of his tuxedo. “You about ready?”

  “What if no one buys anything?” I murmured anxiously. “What if this whole thing is a total bust and the gallery doesn’t recoup the costs of this event?”

  “Sweetheart, that’s not going to happen.”

  I turned to face him and queried, “But what if it does?”

  His beautiful gray eyes found mine, and we stared at each other in silence as he adjusted his shirt cuffs. When he was satisfied, he confidently replied, “This isn’t a charity event. Geoffrey and Andrew didn’t organize an exhibition in your honor because you’re their friend—they did it because your photographs have sold before, and it’s time for you to put your name out there. Not to mention,” he continued as he made his way toward me, “depending on what I see, I might not be able to resist a purchase of my own.”

  “Judah, promise me you won’t,” I begged. “If my work is not worth the price tag it bears, I don’t want you to be my pity buyer.”

  “Theodora,” he grunted, reaching up to slide a hand around the side of my neck. “Don’t insult me. I don’t purchase in poor taste. Ever.” Before I could say another word, he touched his mouth to mine in a tender kiss. He lingered only a second, and then he was headed out the door. “Let’s go, sweetheart. You can’t be late for your own party.”

  I had no choice but to concede to his point, which is how I found myself sitting beside him in his SUV only two minutes later. When we arrived at the gallery, the front entrance was still locked. I used my key to let us in and tried to ignore the way my stomach twisted in knots as I took in the setup for the evening. It was nothing I hadn’t seen or even organized before—and yet, it was breathtaking.

  The white curtains that lined the space allotted for the evening, covering the art which was part of the gallery’s current collection, made the room feel bright and crisp. Geoffrey had rented a number of hollow, black metal, five-foot, square frames to display my art. They were stacked two at a time and connected in such a way that it created a maze effect. Some of the frames were empty; and, of course, twenty-five of them contained a photograph. I helped choose which print should be hung where, and we agreed to mix my colored work with my black and white images to keep people intrigued as they wandered.

  I could smell the catered hor d’oeuvres, and I knew they were being prepared for distribution behind one of the curtains. Knowing the doors would be opened and people would start arriving any minute made me nauseous all over again.

  “The woman of the hour has arrived,” said Andrew, yanking me from my thoughts. He wore a huge smile on his face as he crossed the room and greeted me with an embrace. “How are you feeling?”

  “Honestly?” I murmured as he pulled away. “Sick to my stomach.”

  “Have you seen this room? Teddy, I can’t believe it took us this long to get you here. Tonight is going to be incredible. I’m sure of it.”

  I wanted to believe him. I really did. I remembered the first time I saw one of my prints hung at a gallery in Denver. I thought I’d explode from excitement. It was so special and thrilling. When I heard it sold in less than a week, it was unbelievably humbling. But an exhib
ition was so much more than that. The gala was minutes away, and I still hadn’t wrapped my mind around the reality of a room full of people staring at nothing but my work. It was intimidating as hell.

  “Where’s Geoff?” I inquired, hoping to change the subject.

  “Final check-in with the wait staff.”

  Grazing the sleeve of Judah’s jacket, I announced, “I’m going to go find him. I’ll be back.”

  Neither Andrew nor my husband spoke a word of protest as I strode away from them. I passed the bar along the way but was disappointed to see it wasn’t manned at the moment. When I slipped behind the curtain and found the caterer’s station, everyone was busy with one task or another. It didn’t take me long to notice Geoffrey wasn’t with the wait staff anymore, but I decided a few more minutes in hiding wouldn’t hurt.

  I wandered behind the scenes until I got to the staircase that ascended to the second level. I didn’t think twice before I climbed it. As soon as I reached the landing at the top, I realized I could breathe a little deeper. From my vantage point, it felt like I was looking at my exhibition through the lens of a dream instead of reality. I was there, and yet I wasn’t. Suddenly, the pressure of being the face behind the work lifted a bit.

  I don’t know how long I stood up there staring, only that as time passed, the room grew louder and conversation began to overpower the soft music which played in the background. Five people, then ten, then more than I cared to count filled the room. Some were people I recognized—local artists and gallery personnel I’d become acquainted with over the years—and some were strangers.

  I ignored my phone as it alerted me to text messages from inside my pocket. I knew it was likely Judah or Geoffrey wondering where I was, but I wasn’t ready to be found. I wasn’t ready to hear the critiques being tossed around in regard to my collection as people sipped at their cocktails. Cowardly as it was, I couldn’t help myself. I was afraid. The fact of the matter was, the success of the event was about more than profit. It was a test—a trial that would determine whether or not I had a voice and a point of view that mattered; a talent that could take me places; a gift that was potent enough that I could bring it with me to California and make a name for myself.