With no way of knowing if Petra did mean what she said, or if the day would arrive when she had a change of heart, I returned to the SUV and started the engine.
The only problem I had now was deciding what to tell Tim. The whole truth and leave him to waste his life on false hope if Kevin was right? Or go for a slightly edited version, and let Tim be surprised if Kevin was wrong and Petra called?
Reminding myself I was being paid to seek out and deliver the truth, not adjust it, I released the brake and headed for home.
* * * *
I found Tim asleep on the sofa. Albert was curled up on his chest. George was tucked into his side.
George opened one eye and gave me a self-satisfied, who-in-hell-needs-you cat smile. Hmm! So much for his loyalty to he who provides him with all the comforts of life.
Still, they all looked so comfortable and cozy, I crept out of the room and headed for the kitchen.
I don't know if Tim heard me come in, or if George read my thoughts and decided to pay attention as to which side his and Albert's cookies were buttered. Whatever! I'd barely opened the refrigerator door and reached for a beer when all three appeared in the doorway, Tim rubbing his eyes and the two cats licking their well-fed chops.
"How did things go? Any progress?" Tim asked.
"Here, catch." I tossed him the beer and reached for another. "Let's go out on the deck and I'll tell you."
When I was through, he didn't say anything for a while. Then he said, "Have you told Vance?"
"No. I'm not sure who the client is here, you or Vance, so I figured you should do that."
"How do you think he'll take it?"
A month was a long time in the candy floss world of stardom. Knowing my brother, I had a feeling he'd already moved on. "Hard to say. If he makes a fuss, just say it's her life to do with however she decides."
"Which is true. I just wish we were closer. That I'd spent more time with her and gotten to know her better while I had the chance."
"That could still happen."
"I doubt it. I'm her brother and I love her. I hope she calls, and if she needs anything, I'll be there. But..."
I knew what Tim was thinking, but couldn't actually say. The only bond between them was blood. No shared childhood memories or experiences, and without being able to sit down and play the old "Do you remember when" game, they were virtual strangers.
While Tim went inside to call Vance, I sipped my beer and relaxed. It was early evening now. The sun was still hot, but a soft ocean breeze caressed my overheated body and filled my head with thoughts of a refreshing shower and cool, crisp sheets.
It also reminded me of the IOU I'd given Tim, and I wondered if he remembered, too.
I closed my eyes, ran a hand down my belly and touched my rapidly hardening shaft. It felt so incredibly fucking good I just rode the wave. But the wave was bigger than I expected. It demanded so much more than a scratch. With Tim in the house, and likely to be there for a while, and my deck totally private, I opened my pants and gave in to temptation.
Every muscle in my body tensed as I slid my fingers slowly down the entire length from root to tip and back. I hesitated for a few seconds, holding onto the thrill of anticipation by pitting my control against the desire to give in and shoot my load.
I stroked myself again, but before I reached the tip, another hand wrapped around my fingers and put a stop to my fun.
I opened my eyes and looked straight up into Tim's baby blues. He was straddling the lounger and giving me the same hungry look I get from Albert and George when they're desperate to eat.
"That was quick," I said. "Was Vance out?"
"No, he was busy."
I caught my breath as Tim's fingers picked up where mine left off, his movements a little slower, but firmer and more insistent. It took every scrap of self-control I possessed to hang tough.
"You didn't speak to him?"
"We spoke. For about three minutes. Barely long enough for me to give him a condensed version of what you've discovered."
I focused on a stray strand of blond hair on Tim's forehead. "And he said?"
"Petra's an adult. If she wants to ruin her life, it's her business. Since I'm her next of kin, I asked if he could arrange to have her stuff sent to me for safekeeping. He said, sure no problem, he'd have someone see to it, but I'd have to excuse him because he was in the middle of an important meeting."
So I was right. Vance had moved on. "And that was it?"
"That was it. Now..." Tim smiled, reached in his back pocket for his wallet, and sat down on the edge of the lounger. After taking out a condom and removing it from the foil package, he rolled it down over my cock.
His actions confused me. "I thought I was the one who owed you."
"You do." He reached for my hand. "But not out here. It'll be better if we take it inside."
Holding onto my pants with my free hand, I let him lead me through the kitchen and down the hallway to what real estate salespeople refer to as the family bathroom. The shower in here is much bigger than those in the ensuites, so I knew exactly what he had in mind.
Tim shucked off his clothes and turned on the shower. "You going to strip and make good on your promise or just stand there?"
I shot him a cheeky grin and hitched up my pants before they fell down completely. "I haven't quite decided. I'm still thinking."
"Really?" I felt my control start to slip a little as he did that sexy thing with his tongue and his upper lip. "You need a little help with that?"
"I guess it wouldn't do any harm."
He narrowed his gaze and began stroking his own very impressive hard-on. Then he turned the shower down to a trickle and reached for me. Grasping my shoulders lightly, he used his tongue to open my very willing mouth and plunder what he found inside. He tasted of beer, the coffee we'd had earlier, and something that was essentially Tim.
I ran a finger down his crack and pressed it hard against his hole.
"This what you want, babe?" I asked as his lips moved down my neck, licking and nibbling their way to only he knew where.
"You have lube in here?"
I sucked in a breath as he bit my shoulder. Hard enough, I suspected, to leave a mark. "I think there's some in the shower caddy. That's if it hasn't dried up or gone bad."
He chuckled. "You trying to tell me something here?"
"Yeah, I'm desperate."
He opened the container of lube and sniffed the contents. "It smells okay. Think we should risk it?"
"Here give me that." I stepped inside the shower cubicle and grabbed the lube, which I'd actually bought quite recently, and slathered some on my aching penis. "Now, if you'll assume the position..."
But he already had. His legs were spread slightly apart, his body bent forward with the palms of his hands pressed flat against the shower walls, and his delectable butt ready and waiting for my attention. I squirted a shot of lube in his hole and followed it with my finger. The muscle loosened almost immediately, so I added a second finger and then a third.
He groaned, pleading for me to hurry it up. I obliged by parting his butt cheeks and inserting the head of my cock. As I pushed in, I wrapped my arms around his body. I pulled out, then pushed in again and did a little biting of my own as I took possession of his stiffie. He bucked against me, but I held the position, stroking and squeezing, while I listened to his soft moans and groans of pleasure.
When I knew he was almost there, I let him finish it himself, while I concentrated on my own enjoyment. I was a gnat's breath from coming myself. I began upping my strokes. I withdrew and pushed back in, waiting for the incredible rush I was always a little afraid wouldn't happen. But then it did. It started slowly, the feeling gradually increasing until I was hanging on the very edge of the world, waiting for the explosion. Then it happened. I wanted to hold onto the moment, make the feeling last, but that never happened. Before I could stop it, it melted away, leaving me feeling drained, but this time unexpectedly content and sat
isfied, too.
While I continued to hold Tim, I wondered what it would be like if I had someone permanent in my life. A special someone to come home to after a hard day at the office, or a really bad day, or even a spectacularly good day.
The moment passed. I released Tim and brushed the thought away. Relationships took time, commitment, and a ton of TLC. For now, Albert, George and Bunny were all the family I needed. They never asked to borrow money or the car, and I didn't have to worry about them finding someone they liked better. Did that make me scared of commitment? Maybe, but I preferred to think of myself as cautious
I turned the spray on full.I scrubbed Tim's back, and he scrubbed mine. The temptation to linger was there, all it needed was a tiny nudge, but I decided to save it for later.
"You hungry?" I asked Tim as I reached for a towel.
He raised one eyebrow. "For more of what we just enjoyed? You said you have a thing about getting it on with clients."
"I meant, regular food, as in dinner somewhere. As for me mixing business with pleasure..." I sighed and ran a finger down his damp chest. "I don't. Petra is your sister, but she was also Vance's significant other, or so he thought when he brought you here and asked me to find her. So I guess, technically speaking, since he did the asking, that makes him the client rather than you."
Tim grinned and grabbed my finger. "I see. In other words you're going to salve your conscience by sticking Vance with the bill?"
"You don't think I should?"
* * * *
There's this wonderful little French restaurant a short walk along the beach from where I live, so I took Tim there. It's owned and operated by Anton and his wife, Marthe, who wanted something to do when they gave up working for one of the big hotel chains and decided to retire to the Cove.
When I say "little,"Le Pastis is more accurately described as miniscule. Six tables for four that can be separated into twelve tables for two. Never more than two entrees on the menu, and tonight I see there's one of my favorites--cassoulet, a concoction of lamb, preserved duck, sausage, white beans and tomatoes, along with a dozen other ingredients, depending on availability.
The ocean-side of the restaurant is all sliding glass doors that can be left open or closed, depending on the weather. Tonight the doors were open, and the white candles in their glass holders flickered in the light sea breeze.
After introducing Tim and going through the kissy-huggy routine with which the owners always greet their regular guests, Anton seated us at a table for two and gave us a handwritten copy of the menu.
I ordered the cassoulet, and Tim the filet mignon. I also ordered a bottle of my favorite Rhone red, Gigondas. The wine looks innocent enough, a deep, dark red that goes down smooth as cream, but with an alcohol content of twelve and one-half percent, it packs one helluva punch.
We finished the bottle and we made it back to my place. I remember locking the door. I also remember the two of us kissing, and me falling down on my bed with Tim on top of me.
After that, it's mostly a blur. We cuddled for a bit and there was some pretty urgent touching and stroking. Then I roused sometime later to find my dick halfway down Tim's throat and me on the edge of the sweetest orgasm I'd had since our time in the shower.
I guess I went back to sleep after that because the next time I opened my eyes, the room was full of sunlight and I was alone in the bed.
I made my way to the kitchen, but Tim wasn't there. I checked the deck and the driveway, but Tim and his vehicle were both gone.
On the counter, I found a note from Tim that said to call him if I was ever in San Francisco and a business card for Timothy R. Fensham, Chief Research Chemist,followed by the name of one of the big oil companies. There was also a check made out to me with the amount left blank.
I noticed he'd made coffee and fed the two cats and the rabbit before leaving, and I decided it was too bad he didn't live closer.
On the other hand...
I picked up the check, tore it into tiny pieces and dropped it in the trash.
Perhaps it was just as well he didn't.
Christiane France
Christiane truly believes that love makes the world go round, so she likes stories with both happy and bittersweet endings. Christiane has been writing romance for the past twenty years and lives near Niagara Falls with her husband and The Boys--two black and white Persian cats.
* * * *
Don't miss Blues In The Night, by Christiane France,
available at AmberAllure.com!
To celebrate their reunion after a six-month work-related separation, Alain and his partner James have planned to meet up for the perfect dream vacation. When James calls with what Alain expects to be details of his arrival time at the first stop on their itinerary, James says he won't be joining him. He's met someone new, the temporary assignment has turned into a permanent job, and sorry, but their relationship is over.
Alain leaves the hotel, hoping the sights and sounds of the city will help distract him from the shock of James' desertion, maybe stop him from trying to figure out ways of changing the unchangeable. As evening turns to night, he continues walking, up one street and down the next until music drifting up from a basement nightclub catches his attention. The singer's voice is distinctive, different, and it sounds like Kenny Dumaine, a man Alain met in his hometown a couple of years ago.
Kenny doesn't remember him at first. But Alain is drinking heavily, and when he mentions what sounds like a romance gone wrong, Kenny recalls the circumstances of their first meeting. Alain had helped him out of a bad spot, and now it looks like he needs the favor returned. Kenny was attracted to Alain first time around, and although things never turned physical, that hasn't changed. As an entertainer, always on the move, he's learned to keep things casual. His last performance is the following night, and the next day he'll be gone. Where's the harm in offering an old acquaintance a little badly needed TLC?
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Missing, Presumed Dead Page 7
