PARADISE COVE - 3 BOOK SET: PARADISE COVE SERIES

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PARADISE COVE - 3 BOOK SET: PARADISE COVE SERIES Page 55

by Patrice Wilton


  “I’d have to be asleep to be dreaming, but no. I’m wide awake.”

  “What are you thinking about? Why don’t you count sheep until you fall asleep?”

  “If only it were that easy.” He kissed her forehead and told her to shut her eyes. “You’re safe with me,” he mumbled, pulling her a tiny bit closer. “You’ll always be safe with me.”

  “Hmm. That sounds nice,” she purred like a contented cat, and snuggled into his body. Her breasts rubbed against his arm, and his chest.

  He gritted his teeth. Damn. He had to be a God-damn saint.

  Her hand slipped down his chest, and he caught it at his waist. “Where are you going with that?” he asked quietly.

  “I just wanted to know what that lump was. I tried to put my leg over yours and ran into something.” She giggled. “Something hard.”

  “Enough!” He turned and buried his head under the pillow.

  “Goodnight, Chase. You’re fun to sleep with.” She gave his bum a pat, then moved to her side.

  At least she’d stopped talking. He waited several minutes before coming up for air. Carefully, he lifted the pillow and gazed at her back. She seemed to be breathing deeply, and hopefully wasn’t pretending.

  But not trusting himself, or her, he slept on his stomach for the first time since infancy. The uncomfortable position was better than losing his principals, and taking her every which way he could.

  He had no idea what time it was when he felt the mattress dip at his side. His head shot up. “What are you doing?”

  “I have to go to the bathroom, and the only way out is over you.”

  She had a point. He’d pushed the queen-sized bed up against the wall to give himself more space for his workout in the morning. He had a portable gym for cardio strength and circuit training, which included videos and weights he kept under the bed. Figured if he’d be writing all day, he’d need his physical training now more than ever. Pumping iron and cardio increased the blood flow to his head.

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.” She had one leg across him and her naked bottom close to making contact with that troublesome little head he knew so well. “If you just wait a sec, I’ll get up.”

  “You don’t need to do that.” She shimmied over him, and he nearly cried with pleasure. It was all he could do not to stop her from making that trek to the bathroom. He might have to spend the rest of the night in there himself.

  When she returned, she’d brushed her hair and had a saucy grin on her face. “We did it! It’s five in the morning, and we slept together the whole night without fooling around.” She stood next to the bed. “High five!”

  After they high-fived, she jumped on him, her legs on either side of his hips as she stared down at him. Luckily this time he was prepared and had the blanket all the way up to his chin. “Good job, buddy. You kept me safe, and didn’t, not once, try to take advantage of the situation. Were you an Eagle Scout? I think you should be. Or a Navy Seal.”

  He couldn’t stop a smile in response to her teasing. She was the nuttiest, sweetest thing he’d ever met. “Why a Scout? Or a Seal?”

  “Well, it’s all about honor. I mean they have a code to live by, a much higher code than the rest of us. Like a modern day knight. And you with your hard-on and all, well, I just think you deserve a gold star.”

  He flipped her and pinned her down. He had her arms raised above her head, and intertwin ed his fingers with hers. He looked at her beguiling face and something inside of him surged, like his heart had stopped but was now beating again. He lowered his head and captured her mouth.

  Her breath was minty, the taste of his toothpaste, and he hungered to taste her deeper. His tongue plunged into her open mouth, and she caught her breath in surprise. It swept inside, seeking what he had no idea. His mind had gone numb, but his instincts kicked in. He kissed her long and hard.

  They were both panting, out of breath, but afraid to break their connection. Sucking in air, he came up for a moment, then ravished her neck as she twisted and turned under him, hands still captured.

  “I want to touch you,” she whispered.

  “No, you don’t.” He took her mouth once again, and sucked every breath out of her, leaving her clinging and wanting more.

  With a groan, he pushed himself off of her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “For not being the noble knight after all.”

  “Really?” She scooted forward and took his head in her hands, looking deep into his eyes. “You might not get that gold star anymore. But you still deserve silver.” She kissed his eyes, his cheeks and his lips, light petal-drop kisses. “I’m going to leave now, but I want you to know that I had the best night ever.”

  He watched her leave and didn’t try to stop her. Her words had opened up a window of possibilities, and he felt good about himself. For the first time in years, he felt powerful in mind and spirit. Brittany was like a bubbly bottle of tonic, exactly what he needed. He wanted to laugh aloud, and to make love to her over and over.

  But something else was calling to him. His muse had returned and he couldn’t wait to open up his computer and see what the day would bring.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Brittany raced home, letting herself in before her mother wakened. The cottages were still dark, the moon shining in the pre-morning sky. She closed the front door behind her and tiptoed toward the hall.

  “About time you got home.”

  She froze. She’d expected it to be her mother, but it was a male voice. Filled with malice. She turned slowly and made out a tall shadowy form sitting on the couch. “Jose. What are you doing here?”

  “My wife kicked me out. Came to see how you and my baby are doing. Door was open so I let myself in. Found your mother sleeping, and your bed empty.” His tone hardened. “Made myself at home.”

  “I was with a friend,” she stammered, hating how weak she sounded. He wouldn’t dare hurt her. Not with her mother in the other room. “I have nothing to say to you, so please leave.”

  “Didn’t take you too long to find your way into another man’s bed, now did it?” He stealthily walked toward her, his face an angry mask. “You little whore. Fucking a stranger with my baby inside of you.”

  “There is no baby.” She covered her stomach with a splayed palm. “I lost it.”

  “What did you do?” He sneered. “Got rid of it, like I said?”

  “No. I miscarried.” She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “We have nothing between us any longer. Now go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He took two steps toward her.

  “You heard my daughter. Get out of my house, and don’t come back.” Her mother stood in the doorway of her bedroom. She held a gun in one hand and a phone in the other.

  Jose turned swiftly. “This is between Brittany and me. Go back to bed before you get hurt.”

  “Only one about to get hurt around here is you. So start moving!” Anna stepped forward. “I’m giving you ten seconds and then I’m calling the cops.”

  “Mom?” Brittany moved around Jose and stood next to her mother. Anna did look a little crazy, with her hair wild around her shoulders, toting a pink pistol in her blue silk pajamas. “What are you doing with a gun? A pink gun?” She whispered, “Is it real?”

  “You bet your ass it’s real, and I’m going to use it to shoot this bastard, if he dares to make one move against either of us.” Anna placed the phone on the counter and held the gun steady.

  Jose took a tentative step forward. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “You would, would you? Well, make my day.” Her little five-feet-two mom was facing down Jose like Dirty Harry in drag.

  “I’ll call the police,” Brittany said, grabbing the phone.

  Anna gripped the pistol with both hands, her feet spread apart as she tracked Jose’s every move. Brittany had no doubt that her mom planned to use that gun if he made her.

  “You better be on your way,” Anna told Jose.
“I bought this gun after my first husband died, and I know how to use it.”

  Jose smiled. His eyes were black and furious. “You really think I’m scared of you? A hundred pounds in silk pajamas. I could break you like a twig.” He flexed his muscled arms.

  “Try it. If you’re man enough.”

  He laughed, but it was a cruel sound. “I like your spirit. I do. Too bad your daughter didn’t inherit it from you.”

  “Are you leaving, or am I calling the cops?” Brittany asked, her fingers on the dial.

  “Don’t bother. You’re not worth it.” He backed up, his eyes flashing dangerously. His upper lip curled as he stared down her mother. “You’re probably just crazy enough to try and then I’d have to kill the both of you.” He opened the front door. “I’ll see you around.”

  With his departure, Brittany ran to the door and locked it. She turned to her mom. “Wow! Holy crap! Aren’t you something!” Then she began to shake. “Damn, but he had me scared.”

  “I know, honey. You’re well rid of him, I can say that.” Anna moved to the window to make sure Jose got in the car and drove away. “Can’t believe you hooked up with that asshole. A smart girl like you.”

  “And I can’t believe you’re a pistol packin’, smoking hot, super cool mama!” She laughed with relief, and moved forward to hug her little mom tight. “Would you have used it?”

  “You bet your sweet ass I would. To save you or anyone I hold dear, I’d have emptied the round and never thought twice.”

  “You got more than one bullet in there?” She eyed the gun warily.

  “Fully loaded—in case I missed.”

  “Well, I’m just glad your skills weren’t put to the test.” Brittany shivered, imagining what could have happened. “I hope he’s gone for good, but I’m not sure. He doesn’t like to be made a fool of.” She touched her cheek, remembering his slap and the cut from his ring. “He’s dangerous, and might come back.”

  “Trust me, he won’t. A guy like that will lick his wounds, bolster his ego and move on to someone else he can intimidate.” Anna flicked the safety on before putting the gun on the counter. “Now that he’s been dealt with, let’s have a cup of coffee and you can tell me about your night,” she said.

  “Oh, Mom.” Anna focused on one thing—her daughters finding suitable men. “I’ll make the coffee, but as far as tonight went?” Brit shook her head. “The answer is good. And that’s all you need to know.”

  “Not so fast, lady. I saved your life, and now I want all the juicy details.”

  Brittany shrugged, wanting to keep the special feelings between her and Chase close to her heart for a while. “Nothing juicy. Sorry. You’d be very disappointed in me.”

  “Not true.” Her mother gave her a serious look. “You are the light of my life, and I could never be more proud of you. I don’t know how, but I raised some mighty fine daughters.”

  “Sometimes I think we raised you,” Brit agreed with a smile, “but whatever happened, we are a fearsome foursome.”

  Her mom laughed with delight and drew her pale blue robe around her, knotting it at the waist. “Yes, we are. I think both your dads would be very proud of us.”

  “You bet, and especially how you reined us in and kept us close. It’s pretty damn awesome.” She gave her mother a little push. “Lock the gun away. Shower, and I’ll make us some scrambled eggs too. All that excitement got my appetite going.”

  “Or was it Mister Ashley Chase?” Her mother sighed dramatically. “Such a romantic name.”

  * * *

  After Brittany left, Chase got out of bed, made some coffee, and fired up his computer, thinking he could get an early start.

  Once the coffee brewed, he poured a cup, and stood next to the screened door looking out at the ocean. The night with Brittany had stirred him up in ways that hadn’t been stirred for awhile.

  Thing was, he knew a good thing when he saw it, but his ability to hold on to it had never panned out. Not in his home life anyway. Like Brittany, he’d lost loved ones. His youngest sister had been born with Sickle Cell disease and died from an infection when she was only three. His father had died a few years later. His mother passed, and then his wife had left him.

  Chase cautiously sipped his hot coffee. He understood Brittany’s avoidance of emotional connections that might lead to loss.

  After his mother’s death he had inherited the old, but still beautiful, plantation home that had been in the family for hundreds of years. On the outskirts of Charleston, it had an acre lot with sweeping willows and mossy oak trees. There were eight bedrooms on two upper floors, a four-pillar entrance, and a long curved driveway.

  Having no children, Chase let his sister and her husband raise their kids in the main house while he kept a suite of rooms in the left wing for his private residence when he returned to visit. Going home after his mom’s death still hurt too much and he never stayed long.

  Max whined and nudged his leg. Chase put his cup on the counter, grabbed the dog’s leash and took the rascal outside. The dog ran around, spraying and sniffing, and Chase was content to watch him for awhile. The salty air, the shine of the morning sun on the water, the memory of Brittany warm in his arms prodded ideas.

  “Okay, boy.” He gave the leash a tug, and Max came loping back, pink tongue to the side. “We’ve got work to do.” For once, he was excited to get started.

  Inside and settled, Chase pulled up his play. Stared at the screen.

  He believed himself to be a gentleman, one of the “good guys”, and didn’t see himself finishing last. So what to do about Brittany? Chase tapped the table top with his short fingernails. She was a feisty, self-confident woman on the outside, sheltering a frightened little girl underneath.

  Chase’s protective instincts were strong, and even stronger after last night. He felt obliged to make sure she was happy and well taken care of. And to be completely honest, he wouldn’t mind that chore. Not one bit. My God, she was magnificent, like a thoroughbred that needed to be tamed.

  “What am I doing?” he asked Max, who was nibbling on Chase’s bare feet. “I’m thinking about taming a race horse now, and I can’t even deal with you.” He laughed. “Okay, I know what I’m doing. It’s called procrastinating. That’s a big word, don’t you think?”

  The dog quirked his head and barked.

  “You got that right.” He reread the last few pages he’d written, and added some fresh ideas. Got lost in it for awhile, and when he looked up again it was half past ten.

  “Haven’t eaten and haven’t showered. What do you think, boy? You hungry?”

  He got up, filled the doggie bowl and went in to shower. Once he’d cleaned up and dressed, he made himself a BLT sandwich, and took it outside to sit on his porch and ponder his predicament.

  He’d made one mistake in letting his wife get away from him, and certainly did not intend to make another. What if he made a play for Brittany? Would a woman like her be satisfied with a man like him? She had a taste for the wild side. He might be many things but wild was not big on his list.

  Dependable, honest, trust-worthy and hard-working. Commendable traits, but he had a hunch they wouldn’t be selling points with Brittany. Chase chewed the tomato and bacon, and mopped a drizzle of mayonnaise from his chin.

  She had a fire inside of her, and he wasn’t sure if he had the energy or the know-how to match that flame. She seemed genuinely interested in him and his plays, and it had been a long drought since anyone showed an interest in either. Sure, the New York babes had enjoyed the good times as he’d paraded them around town, but had they cared an iota about him and his dreams? He finished the sandwich and answered his own question honestly. No. And he’d felt the same regarding them.

  He’d like to have that and more with Brittany. She didn’t have a current boyfriend, and a girl with that much spirit wouldn’t be satisfied with work all day and no time to play. Therefore, what was preventing him from asking her out? He could show her a good time,
get to know her slowly. In return they might find the kind of forever love he needed to complete his life. And if that didn’t happen, well, he’d have a close and caring friend—someone to listen to his ideas and give him some feedback. And he could amuse her with dinners and dancing, perhaps some hot sex too.

  Win-win. At least that’s the way he saw it. Not sure what she was thinking. Not even sure if she knew what she was thinking.

  With that in mind, he pushed himself off the chair, deciding to take a break from his writing. He took the dirt path to Taylor’s Cafe and entered the front door, feeling ridiculously nervous about asking Brittany on a date. Ridiculous, since they’d been sleeping together only a few hours ago.

  She turned around and saw him. Her face flushed pink, and she hurried over to greet him. Had she gotten prettier, or was it the night in his arms that made her more beautiful than twenty-four hours ago?

  “Hi,” she said, her voice sounding soft and breathless. “Are you here for lunch?”

  “I’m here to ask you out.” He rushed on, like a boy asking a girl to Prom.

  At her surprised look, he quickly got a hold of himself. He jutted out his jaw, put his shoulders back. Spoke with assurance. “What I meant to say was I wondered if you’d care to have dinner with me? Someplace where they have dancing.” He gazed into her eyes, wondering why his internal temperature was rising. He was a thirty-five-year-old man. Experienced. Sophisticated. Not a randy kid.

  He deepened his voice and whispered next to her ear. “I want to hold you in my arms again.”

  She glanced around at the other tables, catching the eyes of a few customers who quickly looked away. She took his hand and led him toward the doorway. “I’d like that too.” She grinned and stepped back. “And I know just the place. Pick me up at seven.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  At five minutes to seven, Chase tossed a treat to Max and left his cottage. “Wish me luck, boy.” He drove the Lexus down the dirt path to Brittany’s Birds of Paradise. Dressed in designer beige slacks and a collared blue linen shirt, he’d opted for Gucci shoes without socks, and had combed his longish hair back off his tanned face. Perhaps overdressed for the Keys, he was betting that Brittany liked a man with style.

 

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