by Holly Hart
I follow at a more reasonable pace and go to stand beside Caitlin, who is bouncing on the balls of her feet while she waits for my driver, Findlay, to open the trunk.
“We should have waited until after this thing before talking about that damned contract,” she hisses, half under her breath, as she bends into the trunk and pulls out the first of the three boxes with flowers in it.
I can’t tell if she’s talking to me or to herself. Personally, I’m glad we got the contract out of the way. Seeing both of our signatures lifted an enormous weight off my chest, leaving me free to do other things, like appreciate the way Caitlin’s sweater dress hugs her sweet ass as she bends over the back of my town car.
She turns and shoves the box full of vases and flowers into my arms before picking up another box, which she hugs against her chest. She glances over her shoulder at Findlay. “Do you mind bringing the last box in, please? We’re running late.”
Findlay meets my eyes. Normally, he stays with the car whenever he drives me somewhere. It’s the best way to make sure the vehicle doesn’t get stolen, and to also ensure that as soon as I want it, the car is ready to go. Willing to make an exception this one time, I nod my permission and Findlay picks up the remaining box.
Side by side, we follow Caitlin into the school.
She leads us down a wide yellow hallway that contains lockers and numerous childish drawings to a large auditorium where several tables have been set up.
“Caitlin.” A tall woman approaches in a black sweater, flowing black skirt, and wearing her steel grey hair swept back in a tight bun.
“Evelyn.” Caitlin and the woman exchange a quick hug.
The woman draws back and flicks a worried glance in the direction we’ve just come from. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Sheila, have you?”
“Sheila Murdoch?” Caitlin raises a brow. “No. Why?”
“She was supposed to be here an hour ago to help make sure things are ready,” Evelyn says. “But so far, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her.”
“That doesn’t sound like Sheila,” Caitlin says. “She’s usually a paragon of punctuality.”
“That’s why I’m worried. Her boy’s been having some health problems which have been running her ragged. I’m hoping she just fell asleep and forgot to set her alarm, and that she didn’t have to take him to the hospital again. If I don’t see or hear from her before this shindig ends, I’ll go over to her place and check up on her. Meanwhile, do you mind taking her place and serving as a greeter when people get here? I know it’s not your duty, but I just don’t have enough people to go around, and –”
“I’m happy to help,” Caitlin says. She gestures at the box she’s placed on the table. “But I need to get the flowers set up.”
“Oh.” Evelyn removes one of the blue plastic vases full of flowers from the box and clucks over it. “Lovely, as usual, Caitlin. You truly have a knack for flower arrangements.”
Caitlin’s green eyes catch mine. Humor sparkles in them. Neither of us is going to tell the woman that this time, Caitlin had help from a complete flower-arrangement novice.
The woman places the arrangement in the center of the closest table and looks at the boxes in Findlay’s and my arms. She nods sagely. “It’s about time that Caitlin got around to hiring some helpers for these kinds of things. She practically runs herself ragged trying to do everything by herself.”
Findlay and I exchange amused looks. I’m the president of Caldwell Industries, and he’s a highly trained bodyguard and defensive driving expert. Not the kind of people who are commonly mistaken as “helpers.”
The woman points to the boxes. “Now hurry up. The students and their parents will be arriving any minute and we want this place to look perfect.”
Unable to think of a convincing excuse to get out of the errand, Findlay and I weave our way through the tables, carefully placing a vase of flowers in the center of each one. The entire time, I keep sneaking glances at Caitlin.
“Mr. Caldwell, are you feeling all right?” Findlay’s voice redirects my attention from Caitlin to my driver.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugs. “I don’t really know. You just seem distracted. And you can’t seem to stop smiling. Plus, you and I are putting out flowers, something I never thought you’d do. I just wondered if there was something wrong that I should know about.”
For a brief, shining second, I consider telling him the truth, that as soon as Caitlin and I get a license, we’re getting married and starting a family, but I hold back.
Findlay has been my driver two years and earned Ben’s security seal of approval, meaning I should be able to trust him, but ever since we entered this school, thoughts of Evan have been foremost on my mind, making me too nervous to trust anyone.
Somehow, in the few days I’ve known her, Caitlin has become important to me, and it’s not just because she has agreed to become the mother of my child and help me gain controlling interest in Caldwell Industries. The need goes deeper than that. And while I don’t understand it, I do know that she’s precious to me and that if Evan ever finds out, he’ll find some way to use her against me, and I can’t allow that, which means I can’t trust anyone.
The banquet/party is a Grade A success. The whole reason I came was because Caitlin was going to be here, and I’m compelled to spend as much time with her as I can manage, but I never expected to enjoy myself. Yet that’s exactly what happened.
The kids are fantastic. They’re cheerful and obviously very comfortable. Some of the more vocal and outgoing ones spend a lot of time entertaining me, especially one blue-eyed, sandy-haired young man who’s telling me more dirty jokes than a teen his age should even know. He also lets me pet his big golden retriever service dog, Helium, who keeps him safe whenever he has a seizure.
A few of the parents shoot me knowing looks, clearly recognizing me, but giving me a wide berth, allowing me the privacy and space needed to relax and enjoy myself. They probably assume I’m here to determine if the school is something Caldwell Industries should include on the list of non-profit organizations we give grants to. And they aren’t wrong. After seeing the good work this place is doing, I’m going to personally add their name to Caldwell’s list of beneficiaries and make sure they get all the help they need with their finances.
The same is true for the company that trained Helium and paired the dog with the sandy-haired human.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Evelyn’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “I’m afraid that’s all we have on the schedule for tonight, but I urge you to stay longer. Mingle, enjoy some of the refreshments we’ve put out. Have a good time.”
Beside Evelyn, Caitlin lifts her head, scanning the room until her huge green eyes collide with mine. She jerks her head to the left, indicating that she’ll meet me in the hallway.
I waste no time following her out.
She hasn’t gone far. I find her standing just a few feet away from the auditorium, studying a painting of the solar system.
“Hey,” I say softly. Smiling, I walk toward her. “Are you ready to get out of here, ‘cause Findlay is waiting in the car. I’m thinking of having him drive us to this little coffee shop I know of at the edge of town that makes the most amazing hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted, then we can swing back to your place and-”
Before I can finish my sentence, Caitlin’s hand snakes out and she grabs my tie, using it to haul me into a small room that smells of cleaners. I have just enough time to make out the dark images of a mop bucket and a vacuum cleaner before the door swings closed behind me, encasing us in total darkness.
Caitlin maintains her hold on my tie, using it as a guide that leads upwards to my mouth, which she covers with her own. Startled, I gasp, providing her with the perfect opportunity to slide her tongue into my mouth with a slow, demanding stroke that shoots from my mouth directly to my cock.
This isn’t the place for this. The thought flashes through my mi
nd even as my cock leaps to attention and presses painfully against my fly. She deserves something better, or at the very least, an actual bed.
I untangle my mouth from hers and gasp for breath. “We should …” Unable to speak anymore, I wave my hand weakly, indicating the bedroom.
Caitlin shakes her head, the movement causing her braided hair to sway. Her big eyes are solemn as they meet mine. “No,” she whispers, her voice confident despite the soft tone. Her hands settle on my hips, her fingertips pressing through my clothing until they curl into my flesh. She pulls me forward until it’s impossible to tell where she ends and I begin. Her hips shimmy, gyrating against my cock. “Right here. Right now.”
I groan. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but I like it.
I skim my fingers along her collarbone, loving the satiny smoothness of her skin and the way that even my lightest touch causes her pulse to jump. I cup my fingers around the gentle curve of her shoulder, delighting in the sexy moans that slide past her parted lips.
My head falls onto her shoulder as I fight for self-control.
If that’s what the woman wants, who am I to argue?
75
Caitlin
I gasp as Jeremy’s fingers close around my upper arm and he spins me around in a pivot that presses my back against the storage room door. I have just enough time to raise my hand so that it splays across his chest before our bodies collide and he pins me in place with his bigger powerful body. Before I can get my bearings, he drops his head, taking my mouth in a kiss that leaves no doubt about how he feels about me. This might have been my idea, but he’s just as turned on as I am.
I lose all track of time as his hands slide up and down my spine. I lift my own hands, twining my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair.
I shiver as his lips slide downward, gliding over the top of my shoulder until they encounter the scooped neckline of my sweater. My head falls backward, allowing him greater access as he places feather-light kisses along my collarbone. My fingers curl into his evening jacket as I squirm against him. Unmistakable proof that he’s as turned on as I am presses against my thigh, the feel sending my own raging desire into the stratosphere. His lips find the curve of my breast and I moan. I want him, right here, right now, propriety be damned.
Time stands still as our tongues clash and duel in an ancient dance that sets our hearts pounding. My hands wander over his shoulders and down his chest, leaving no hill or valley undiscovered until my hands encounter his belt buckle.
This wasn’t something I planned. Having sex in a maintenance closet while a crowd of people I like, people who respect me, are just a few feet away is the last thing I ever thought I would do, but … It’s Jeremy’s fault. I don’t know exactly how, but he’s managed to get under my skin, so now, when he’s not near me, I crave him the way an addict craves heroin.
His hands slide down, pushing my leggings down and my sweater up as he finds brand new ways to torment and tease my body, his touch driving me into a frenzy that’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
I draw a deep breath, ready to shout my pleasure, but Jeremy covers my mouth with his, swallowing the sounds of my desire.
“Quiet,” he whispers against his lips as his hands continue driving me insane. “If we get caught …”
He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. I’ve been so caught up in his touch, I completely forgot where we were.
Jeremy adjusts our positions, pushing me higher up against the door as he angles his body between my thighs. I feel his bulbous member pressing against me, the only warning I have before he enters me in one long, smooth stroke.
He gives me a second to adjust to his girth before rolling his hips, the action sending him deeper with each thrust. Bright white starbursts of pleasure erupt before my eyes, distracting me from the unrelenting darkness in the closet as I lean forward and sink my teeth into the top of Jeremy’s shoulder, using his body as a muffler as we both get caught up in a tidal wave of unbridled pleasure.
76
Caitlin
“Ready?” Jeremy says in a low undertone that still sounds loud as a shotgun blast in the closet.
I slide my hand down my sides and conduct a swift inventory. Sweater: pulled down. Leggings: pulled up. Panties: on. Hair: a mess.
I reach up and quickly undo what remains of my braid. Let people assume my hairband broke or that I got it caught on something.
“All set,” I whisper back. “You?”
“Good to go.”
I press my ear against the door and listen. I hear the sound of people in the auditorium, but the hallway sounds quiet.
“I’ll go first,” I tell Jeremy. He grunts a soft response.
I slide my hand down the maintenance closet door until I find the knob and wrap my fingers around it. Holding tightly, I start muttering a quick prayer that we’ll somehow manage to get out of this unscathed, only to change my mind. Jeremy just took me to places I never imagined my mind and body were capable of reaching, and if the price of that means a few people looking down their noses at me and whispering behind my back, then so what, let them whisper. Chances are they’d be more jealous than scandalized anyway.
I slip out of the maintenance room and smooth a hand over my dress, removing a few wrinkles. When I look up, I’m staring directly into the surprised eyes of Sheila Murdoch.
“Sheila,” I squeal as heat floods my face. “Evelyn’s been worried about you. She was talking about sending out a search party when you didn’t show up.’
Sheila’s glance flicks to the supply room door. “And you decided to see if I was being held hostage in the supply room?”
“Um, no. Funny story there.” I bite my lip, trying to think of how to proceed. Before I reach a conclusion, the door opens and Jeremy emerges. I decide to go for honesty.
I grab Jeremy’s hand and pull him close to my side. “Sheila, I’d like you to meet my fiancé.” The word feels both strange and delightful. “Jeremy Caldwell.”
Before I can think of an excuse for us to be in the supply closet that’s not X-rated, Sheila’s eyes go wide and her jaw drops. Her left hand slams over her chest and for a second I wonder if she’s having a heart attack.
“Sheila?” I drop Jeremy’s hand and move closer to her. “Are you okay?”
She nods, even though she looks like a fish that’s out of water and gasping for air. “I’m fine. I just…” Her wild eyes dart up and down the hallway before returning to Jeremy’s face. She shudders. “I need to go. I left something on at home.”
Before either Jeremy or I can say a word, she spins and runs for the exit.
Jeremy wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side as we stare in the direction Sheila bolted. “Is she always like that?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know her very well, and she always seems a little stressed. I think it’s because her kid has all sorts of medical problems and she’s a single mom. But for the most part she seems level headed and pleasant. I’ve always liked her.” I cock my head and shoot him a side eye. “What about you? Is she one of your ex-girlfriends?”
“I’ve never seen that woman in my life,” Jeremy says, giving my shoulder an extra squeeze. “But then again, she really didn’t stick around long enough for me to get a good look.”
“It’s weird though. She seemed okay right up until she saw you. Then it was like she had some sort of nervous breakdown.’
“Evan.” Jeremy says the name like a curse.
“What about him?”
“I’ve never dated her, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have a fling with her. She might have thought I was him. Other than our eyes, we’re identical.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t track. She moved here four years ago from, I think it was central Texas. She’s divorced now, but at the time she was married and her husband’s company transferred him here. Evan was already in prison at the time.”
“Maybe she knows him somehow. What
does she do?”
I rack my brain. “She’s a nurse. I think she provides in-house care to invalids.”
“Then maybe she’s just having a bad day and I was more than she could deal with.”
“Maybe,” I say as I let him guide me back to the auditorium, “but it was still really strange.”
77
Jeremy
Normally, the few hours I get to spend at the animal shelter represent the happiest time period of my week. I don’t care if they need me to clean kennels, treat ear mites, or walk dogs. I’m always ready and willing, loving the sensation of using my hands almost as much as I enjoy working with the dogs and cats that find their way into the shelter.
Today is the exception.
Today I’m sequestered in one of the small quarantine rooms with a large mixed-breed dog. I sit cross-legged on the floor, the emaciated dog curled up in a tight, scared ball in front of me. I probe at its body, the gentleness of my hands masking the anger simmering under my skin as I carefully cleanse one open wound after another. The dog lies perfectly still as I work on him. The only sign he gives that he’s in any discomfort at all is when I have to dig into his abraded skin for another piece of gravel and he lets out a low, mournful whine that drives arrows through my heart.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur over and over again, apologizing for all of humankind even as I wish there was a way to track down the assholes that thought that after trying and failing to starve the creature to death, they threw it out of a moving car onto a busy highway, assuming that either another motorist or the fall would be the final blow.
They hadn’t counted on a good Samaritan seeing the act and stopping to pull the dog out of danger. The good-hearted motorist wasn’t a pet person and didn’t know where any of the local verts were located, but they drove past this shelter every day, so they brought him here.
