by Ashley Ladd
Cole sighed. “I’m thirty-two, Pop, and I didn’t ask you to sponsor us.” He’d sooner cut out his tongue than wind up as a walking billboard for the family business.
Dwight glanced up at the tall man and held out a card with one hand and pumped the man’s meaty paw with his other. “I’m Cole’s old man, the Toilet King.” He beamed at the portable toilets with pride. “Have you tried out our deluxe thrones? They’re the best in town. Satisfaction guaranteed.”
Cole groaned, curbing the urge to hide his face in his hands. Why couldn’t his family be in the racecar business? Or even perfume?
“You’ll feel like royalty when you sit on our thrones.” Dwight gave his spiel and passed out his business cards to everyone that strolled by. He waylaid a curvy brunette, winking at her. “Would you like to test the merchandise, madame?”
That did it. “Pop! I can’t take it anymore.” One more minute of this torture and Cole would go postal. Grabbing Haley by the wrist, he dragged her behind him, anger in his stride. “Powwow. Now. In private.”
“Where are you taking me?” Haley’s voice climbed an octave, but at least she didn’t struggle.
One of his father’s deluxe thrones slammed open, almost hitting him in the face and a softball player from Pembroke Pines exited. “Haley-Smaley!” The carrot-topped slender man gave her a big smooch on the lips. “It’s been an eternity since I’ve seen you. I figured you must’ve gone back to Ohio after the accident.”
Steaming, Cole pulled her from the other man’s arms, scowling. “Is there anyone you don’t know here?” Before she could answer, he dragged her into the only private sanctuary in sight—his father’s precious portable potties—and closed the door behind them, locking it. Stuffy, stagnant air threatened to overwhelm him, but it was superior to all the interruptions outside. Facing off against the angry woman stuck with him, the space so cramped her breath tickled his neck, he hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Go ahead. Explain.”
Haley’s glance slithered over the plain gray walls, and then pinpointed his face. She lifted her chin regally and shrugged. “I listen to the police band all the time—have ever since I was a little girl. After the Halloween ball, I heard there was an officer down and in danger, and I was in the vicinity. So I decided to help.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and wiped perspiration from her brow. “It’s that simple. I didn’t plan to rescue you. It just happened.”
“So, why didn’t you identify yourself? Why keep up the disguise?” Someone banged on the door and rattled the handle. “We’re busy in here! Go away!”
“For one, I didn’t want to get arrested.” She fanned her face, the apples in her cheeks fire engine red.
If there was a “for one”, there must be a “for two”.
“And?” His voice trailed off, prompting the real, deeper reason that hung in the air between them, the reason he longed to hear and was about ready to drag from her lips.
She finger-combed her hair, veiling her eyes with her lacy lashes. “Well, I, uh, had been in love with you for the past three years, and this was the first time you had ever really seen me, and I liked it.” She looked up, humor nudging out the reluctant adoration in her eyes. “Plus, you get yourself in trouble a lot—you needed a guardian angel, so I elected myself.”
Befuddled, he stared at her, trying to figure her out. “But you’re jealous of your other self.”
She cleared her throat, wrinkling her nose. “Sort of. I feel like Sybil, with two personalities—the beautiful, exciting, dangerous me that fascinated you—and the boring, plain, real me, whose name you couldn’t even remember.”
Shock waves rocked him. How could she think that? He cupped her cheek in his hand, gazing deeply into her magnificent eyes. “Stop that! You, Haley, are gorgeous and exciting.”
She rubbed her face against his hand, looking up at him coquettishly. “Honestly? You’d really pick the real me who bakes cookies and watches a movie before bed every night, over a wild child who races around town on a motorcycle, rescuing you?”
A slow smile twitched his lips as he slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her inexorably closer. “That’s the beauty of it. I don’t have to choose between you. I get both all wrapped up into one exquisite package. I’m the luckiest son of a gun in the universe.” He could still taste the wonderful cookie dough, and to his chagrin, his groin started to swell. Anywhere but here!
The sun radiated from her face, and her eyes blazed bright blue as she looped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. “My prince.”
His eyes narrowed as he wondered if she meant to tease and torment, or flatter him. “Let’s not use that word.” Any mention of royalty reminded him of places like the one in which they hid.
“Okay, handsome.” Her grin spread across her entire face, telling him that she had read his mind.
Was he that transparent? “You know you’re beautiful? That the sun shines in your hair and the ocean rolls in your eyes?” He buried his face in her jasmine-scented curls. “You make a luscious brunette, too, but I like you best this way.”
She lifted her puckered lips to his, hovering a hairsbreadth away. Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending him into a trance. “I could borrow Sher’s red pageboy hair if you get tired of blondes and brunettes…” she murmured against his lips.
“Don’t you dare!” He brushed her tempting lips with his, his hands kneading her tiny waist.
Merciless hammering rocked their domain. “You in there, son?” Dwight’s worried voice infiltrated the plastic door. “Did you get locked in? Stand back, and I’ll bust down the door.”
“Don’t do that! We’re coming out.” Cole had the almost irrepressible urge to exit with his hands high over his head. Now he knew how criminals felt.
“Thank God!” Haley reached for the handle. “I’m about to melt.”
Cole suppressed a groan. He dearly loved his father, but he had the worst timing in the world. He’d just been about to propose to his lady. “Do you think she’d let us borrow her motorcycle again?” He wanted to get out of here and take her far away where no one else could find them, somewhere a million times more romantic than here. Perhaps his father had done him a favor this time after all.
“Maybe we should get one of our own.” She purred against him, fluttering her lashes. “I’ll wear my Catwoman suit if you wear your Zorro outfit.”
“If you make the cookie dough…” If they didn’t hurry up and exit, he was going to explode.
“Meow.” She trailed a fingernail down his chest, stopping at the rim of his shorts. Her smoldering gaze raked over him knowingly, appreciatively, making him swell even more. “What flavor, love?”
Cole didn’t know if he was on fire because of her seductive teasing or because it must be a hundred degrees in the tiny house.
Dwight yelled again, “You sure you’re not stuck in there?” Cheering erupted outside, reminding them that the tournament waited. “I got a crowbar! I’ll save you.”
Cole sighed and opened the door, squinting when the subtropical sunlight struck him square in the face. He spanned his hands around Haley’s waist and lifted her down beside him.
Dwight chuckled, stroking his goatee, a knowing gleam in his eyes.
“Excuse us, Pops.” Cole linked his fingers through Haley’s and tugged her behind him. “I have something important to ask her privately.”
Dwight pouted, tagging after them. “Shucks. You mean you didn’t propose to her in my throne?”
Haley sputtered, and hid her mouth behind her hand.
“Private means alone.” Did he have to spell it out?
“Yo, Fischer! Get your ugly mug over here and bat!” Brad jumped up and down on the bench, practically doing cartwheels to get their attention. He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, a loud, piercing shrill.
Haley stopped, refusing to take another step. “You can’t let your team down. Slug a homer.”
Cole dropped
a chaste kiss on Haley’s upturned lips. “We have to talk.”
“We’ll talk,” she promised, laughter bubbling in her voice. When he still hesitated, she pushed him toward the field. “Go, already, before Brad falls and breaks a leg.”
Cole trotted to home plate and struck a batting stance. Looking over his shoulder, he was pleased to Haley and his father sitting, arm in arm, their attention rapt on him.
Haley beamed and pointed her thumb up. “Knock the ball to Cuba!”
Cole tipped his cap and blew her a kiss. Is that all she wanted? He’d hit the sucker to the moon for one more batch of her cookie dough and an eternity in her arms.
He tried anyway, but merely managed to slam the ball over the centerfielder’s head. Bases were loaded, two outs hanging over their heads.
Cole turned on the steam as he ran, his heart pumping hard, his feet pounding the ground as the opposing team scrambled for the ball. He plowed around first, then second base.
“Run, Cole!” Haley shook the fence, cheering him on.
“Go home!” Brad waved him on, running beside him. “Run ‘im in the dirt if he won’t move!”
The catcher snarled at Cole, glove out to snap up the ball and tag him out, hogging the plate as the shortstop hurled the ball home. The umpire crouched low behind his protective gear. The crowd went ballistic. Dust boiled behind him. It was going to be a close finish.
Cole dove, chin tucked, teeth clamped tightly, and knees braced for a rough landing. He collided with the burly sergeant from Pembroke Pines, dodging the ball, and wiping his feet out from under him.
The heavyset man flopped onto Cole’s back, knocking the wind out of him, and bruising his ribs.
“Safe!” The home plate umpire yelled, crossing his arms with a flourishing sweep in front of him. He straightened and clicked his silver hand counter. His sunburned skin peeled on his arms and legs, and white, gooey sunscreen protected his nose and cheeks.
Cole scrambled to his feet, grinning, unperturbed that red dust caked him head to foot.
Haley flung herself into his arms and kissed him full on the mouth. She felt warm and pliant in his arms.
After a long soul-shattering kiss, he swung her around ‘til the world spun. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Marry me? Make cookie dough every night?”
A hush fell over the field, and he remembered too late they had an audience. He hoped the cookie dough reference was lost on them. The women giggled and shouted, “Say yes!” Unrepentant smiles on their faces, the men shook their heads.
Tiptoeing, Haley whispered in his ear, her hands cupped around her mouth, “Cookie dough’s ready and waiting. Five flavors.”
His mind boggled and his body afire, he gazed deeply into her eyes. “That had better be a yes.” His mouth watered. No way could he wait three excruciatingly long days until they could procure a marriage license to sample each flavor.
“Well?” Dwight shouted. “Is she gonna be my new daughter-in-law or not? I gotta super-duper deluxe, king and queen throne for your wedding gift. I’ll even put it in for fifty percent off the normal installation fee.”
“Answer the man,” Cole roared.
Haley tapped her chin thoughtfully. “If I say yes, does that mean I’ll be the Toilet Princess?”
Fear almost paralyzed him, but he couldn’t lie. There would be no more deceit or disguises between them. From this day on, they would share everything if she agreed to be his wife. That included his legacy. “Yes.” He wound his fingers through her hair and leaned his forehead against hers. “And when Pop retires, you’ll be my Toilet Queen.”
“Sounds like heaven, my king.” She smiled seductively, teasing his lips with feather light but sizzling kisses. Fireworks burst inside him, making him forget everything but the incredible woman he drew into his embrace. He lowered his lips to hers, parting them seductively.
“So when’s this prime little filly gonna become my daughter?” Dwight clapped him hard on the shoulder, pushing him into Haley, almost making him fall on her.
He growled from deep within his chest and grabbed Haley’s hand, dragging her behind him. “We’ll let you know soon as we decide.”
“Hey, Fisching Pole! Yates! Get your buns over here on the outfield!” Brad yelled, half-laughing, half-scowling. “You’re supposed to wait to celebrate until after we win.”
Cole pulled Haley into the portable toilet again and locked the door behind them. He crushed her to him, lowering his lips to hers. “Finally! The things I have to do to get you alone.”
Love and adoration blazed in her brilliant blue eyes as she gazed up at him, her mouth upturned and begging to be kissed. She stood on tiptoe so that her lips hovered just a fraction of an inch from his, slightly parted, tempting him to ravish her. “So long as we’re alone.”
“Alone with cookie dough would be even better…” Unable to resist the temptation a second longer, he plundered her lips, unable to drink his fill of her. His cock strained to get out and he couldn’t think of a reason to keep it tied up another second. Game be damned!
She snuggled deeper against him, purring, driving him insane with wanting her. “Umm, you have a voracious appetite, my prince.”
“Only for you.”
~ The End ~
About the Author
Whether it’s strolling through the worst slums of the Third World to serve the poor in her day job, marching in the Mardis Gras parade representing the US Air Force, falling off horses in the middle of riding competitions (while she’s trying to impress a really handsome real-life hero), or spending unforgettable romantic afternoons on the sun-kissed Biloxi beaches, Ashley Ladd lives for romance and adventure.
Wanting it all, Ashley is not content to sit back and watch life pass her by. Her lifelong quest is to find the perfect hero, run faster than a speeding locomotive, stop speeding bullets, fly through the heavens—oops, that’s her really top top secret identity. Like herself, her heroines often do crazy things like fall off horses at the worst possible moment leaving no choice but to laugh at themselves as they blunder their way through this, or far-distant, crazy mixed-up worlds. In the end, dreams come true, the handsome hero falls madly in love with the heroine, and all is right with the universe, crazy as it may be.
Ashley invites you to come sit a spell at her cyber home, read her oh-so-scintillating blog, and find out the latest news about her books, awards, and contests at: www.ashleyladd.com. She also loves to receive email from her fans at: [email protected]
Ashley Ladd welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.
Also by Ashley Ladd
American Beauty
And Lady Makes Three anthology
Blessed Be
Carbon Copy
Civil Affairs
Price of Fame
Sex Kittens anthology
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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