The Fantasy Factor

by Kimberly Raye

  That would stir gossip and speculation the likes of which Cadillac hadn’t seen since Bernice Marshall had come home from the Christian Women’s Convention in Austin with a boy toy she’d met and married after partaking of one too many glasses of communion wine.

  The very last thing she needed was to tarnish her image. Unfortunately, what she needed and wanted were two very different things, and at the moment, the only thing she really wanted was Houston Jericho.

  In her bed and her life.

  Temporarily, of course.

  9

  WHAT HAD STARTED AS A personal visit to Miss Esther’s house for a flower consultation had turned into a full-blown landscaping project. Sarah had tried to tell the woman what to plant and where to plant it, but Miss Esther was too old to make such drastic changes to her own yard.

  And so Sarah was here now doing it herself. She rolled her palms around the base of the potted hibiscus before turning it on its side and easing the flower and soil from the plastic container. She placed it in the large hole and filled in the area with rich, dark potting soil, packing and smoothing until the plant sat securely in the main flower bed that now spanned the front of Esther Clooney’s house.

  She repeated the process five more times until she’d filled the area with four-foot-high hibiscus blooms in various colors. The front of the house was perfect for the tropical flower because there were no trees to shade the area. The hot, blazing Texas sun spilled over the lawn, drenching it in light and heat.

  She pulled off her gloves and wiped at the sweat that beaded her forehead, then reached for her bottled water and took a long drink. A drop spilled past her lips and trickled over her chin, down her throat and over her frantic pulse beat.

  Her mind went back to Saturday and the storeroom and the way he’d licked her fingers.

  It was just a memory, yet her body responded as if he were standing next to her, murmuring into her ear. Her nipples pebbled and her thighs ached and her heart pounded.

  That’s the way it had been for the past three days since their sixth encounter. It was as if he’d unlocked something inside of her and she couldn’t seem to shut it again.

  She’d managed after the shower and the movie encounters. She’d slammed and latched the door on her desire and walked away from him.

  But he’d walked away from her in the storage room before she’d managed to gather her control and push her guard back into place. She’d had no reason to bolster her defenses, no need to gather her courage and push him away, because he’d pushed away first.

  Strictly sex.

  She’d obviously gotten her point across to him. He was clear on their objective.

  She should have been happy. Relieved. Instead, she felt even more restless than she had before he’d stepped into her shower last week.

  More frustrated. More needy.

  Because she wanted more from him than the Sexiest Seven.

  She shook away the thought. She’d obviously been out in the sun much too long.

  Adjusting her hat, she climbed to her feet and spent the next twenty minutes picking up empty soil bags and plastic flowerpots until she’d cleared the area. She tossed everything into the back of her skunk trunk—she’d yet to kill the smell completely—and climbed behind the wheel. Gunning the engine, she shifted the truck into Reverse and backed up to the end of the drive. She needed to get back to the nursery and relieve Arnie. Not to mention, she had a stack of deliveries scheduled for that afternoon and…

  The thought faded as her gaze shifted to Miss Esther’s yard. She hit the brakes and just sat there.

  The newly landscaped yard breathed life into the old gray house. The flower beds added not only color, but a rich, potent vibrancy that complemented the straight, clean lines of the house’s frame. The creeping ivy mixed with the white juniper she’d planted in the window boxes flowed over the sides, drawing color and light that reflected off the diamond-shaped glass panes that had been virtually invisible before thanks to the thick window frames and shutters.

  She’d always appreciated the clean lines and thick construction of the old farmhouse, but she’d never actually admired the architecture until now. The house was truly beautiful. Even more, it reflected the sweet nature of the old woman who lived inside.

  A woman who was now standing on her front porch, a tear sliding down her cheek as she eyed Sarah’s handiwork.

  Excitement rushed through her, followed by a feeling of pride the likes of which she hadn’t felt since she’d opened that letter from the University of Texas architectural college and found out she’d been accepted.

  Crazy. These were just flowers and plants and dirt. They weren’t a real accomplishment. Anybody could plant flowers and make an old woman smile. And anybody with halfway decent grades could get into architectural school.

  But making it all the way through to become a big-time architect…that was something altogether different. It took talent and drive and courage. Even then, there was no guarantee. But that’s what had made the notion so appealing in the first place. She’d always liked taking risks and putting herself out there. Sometimes it hadn’t paid off, but most of the time it had. She’d been a nerdy schoolkid with no social skills, but she’d wanted to be popular and so she’d put herself out there. She’d been bold and it had paid off. She’d actually managed what most Chem Gems had only dreamed of—she’d crossed over to the land of the popular. She’d ignored the five scholarships that had been offered to her based on her chemistry test scores and had applied to University of Texas. There’d been no scholarship waiting to help her achieve her dream. She’d been ready to work her way through, to make it happen no matter what. She’d been ready to say those three words to the wildest bad boy at Cadillac High School, even though she’d known deep down inside that the odds were against her. She wasn’t pretty enough or big-breasted enough or special enough to win Houston’s love, if he was even capable of the emotion. But she’d been willing to take the chance.

  She’d liked taking chances.

  Until Sharon’s death.

  Until she’d seen her strong, resilient grandmother turn a pale ash and suffer a heart attack right in front of her eyes.

  Sarah hadn’t realized her own mortality at that moment. She’d realized her Grandma Willie’s. The woman was old and frail and Sarah had been pushing her right over the edge with her wild ways.

  “Don’t ever leave me, Sarah. I need you. I couldn’t bear it if something ever took you away from me. Not after losing your mother. I’ve lost too much already.”

  Her grandmother’s words as the paramedics had loaded her into the ambulance echoed in Sarah’s head. She stiffened and shifted into Reverse.

  But even as she left the yard and her silly, long-ago dreams behind, she couldn’t shake the feeling of pride. It stayed with her as she headed back to the nursery to finish her day.

  For the first time, she didn’t feel so restless when she sat down in her tiny office at the nursery to check on her new inventory. She didn’t feel resentful as she stood out in the hot sun and watered the tropical plants. And when she glanced over at the courthouse across the street, she didn’t feel the same sense of oppression she’d always felt. Instead, she felt pride because she’d planted the rows of azalea bushes that lined the winding drive and tapered around toward the sidewalk. Just as she’d planted the lilies that clustered around the base of the sprawling oak trees. And the Texas sage. And the chrysanthemums and the circles of bluebonnets that dotted the sprawling green lawn.

  Sarah realized then that while the dream that she nurtured had once been someone else’s, it was now her own.

  She loved making things beautiful.

  Almost as much as she loved Houston Jericho.

  Love?

  The minute the notion struck, she pushed it aside. She’d never been the type to fall in love. Back in her wild days, she’d lived for excitement, not the goal of finding her own Prince Charming. While she’d toned down, she hadn’t changed her o
pinion of the emotion—namely, that love wasn’t for her. She didn’t want to fall in love with someone, to need him, to have yet another reason to sacrifice when she’d already sacrificed so much for the emotion.

  For the love of her grandma Willie.

  No, she couldn’t help but love her grandma. But she could help loving someone else. She could keep herself from falling in love, even with a man like Houston Jericho.

  Especially a man like him.

  Because he didn’t believe in the emotion any more than she did.

  “COME ON.” HOUSTON GRIPPED her elbow, ushered her outside and steered her toward his truck.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Time for number seven.” His gaze hooked on her for the space of a heartbeat as he loaded her into the passenger’s side and her heart kicked up a beat.

  “Where are we going?” she asked again when they turned off the main strip through town onto Farm Road 582.

  “I told you. Number seven.”

  “Shouldn’t we be at the courthouse or the library? They’re the only two buildings in town with elevators.”

  “One’s a two-story and the other is three stories. That means five minutes max if we stop between floors. This is going to take longer than five minutes, Belle.”

  His words made her heart beat all the faster. They spent the next hour in silence, the tension building around them, between them, the awareness at fever pitch by the time they reached the San Antonio city limits. Lights twinkled and buildings filled the horizon.

  After ten minutes darting in and out of traffic in the heart of downtown, Houston pulled into the huge circular drive in front of the River House.

  While the hotel might, indeed, be located on the river, it was far from a house. Twenty stories reached toward the sky, the lobby plush with cream-colored carpet and gold fixtures. Houston left her sitting on a sofa near a huge marble fountain while he checked them in. Five minutes later, he led her toward the rear of the hotel that faced the San Antonio River Walk and a row of elevators.

  They looked like ordinary elevators with steel doors, but when the doors of one of them slid open, she got the surprise of her life.

  The elevators were really glass cubicles located on the outside of the building. They slid up and down the side, giving a full view of the winding river and sparkling lights as they climbed to their destination.

  “You can see everything,” she murmured as they stepped inside and Houston punched the eighteenth floor. Of course, it also meant that anyone who happened to look up could see everything.

  The realization sent a zing of arousal through her and her nipples pebbled.

  The reaction wasn’t lost on him. He fixed his gaze on the soft points that pressed against her T-shirt. He reached out, flicking and rubbing one of the tips through the soft material.

  There were no more words as they were whisked to their floor. The doors slid open and he steered her down a hallway to room 1820. He slid the card into the slot, waited for the red light and flipped the handle. Sarah found her small suitcase waiting on the king-size bed, but Houston’s bag was nowhere to be found.

  “Where’s your stuff?”

  “In my room.”

  “Your room?” She shook her head as realization hit. “You booked two rooms?”

  “This is about the elevator, not the room. You’ve been so dead set on sticking to the list, I didn’t think number seven would extend past the elevator. Once we’re done there, we’re done.”

  “And we each return to our respective rooms.”

  “Exactly.” His gaze caught and held hers, and she had the feeling that he was giving her a dose of her own medicine, treating her the way she’d treated him during encounters four and five. She’d shut him out under the pretense that she wanted merely sex from him. Specifically the Sexiest Seven.

  You asked for it, you got it.

  But she wasn’t so sure that she wanted it. Things had changed between them. She’d changed. She’d realized that her hunger for him extended beyond a few fantasies, and she wanted more.

  “Relax and get comfortable,” he told her. “I’m going to check into my room and then I’ve got a few things to take care of. We’ll get together later.”

  “Later” happened in exactly fourteen minutes—she had little to do but watch the clock. It was that or dwell on the fact that she truly felt something for him, yet wasn’t ready to sort through her emotions right now.

  If ever.

  Better to anticipate the coming encounter, a feeling that heightened when she heard his deep “Meet me on the top floor” when she answered her ringing phone.

  She freshened up, left her hotel room and headed down the hall. After punching the Up button, she waited, her heart pounding as the elevator made a slow descent.

  “Going up?” she asked when the doors whisked open and she found him standing inside.

  “I’m already up.” And then he tugged her inside and into his arms as the doors slid shut and the elevator started humming. They climbed four stories before he punched the Stop button and stalled them between floors.

  She stared down at the River Walk below. People filled the outside patios of several nearby restaurants. A boat overflowing with sightseers wound its way down the river. People strolled up and down the sidewalks.

  “All anyone has to do is look up and they’ll see us,” he said, coming up behind her and pinning her to the glass. His hands came around to push up her T-shirt. He flicked her bra open and bared both breasts. “They’ll see your pink nipples.” He fingered the stiff peaks and she caught her bottom lip. “They’ll see me touch them and stroke them.” He turned her around and dipped his head. “They’ll see me taste them,” he murmured before he drew the aching tip deep into his mouth and sucked her so hard that she felt the pull between her legs.

  She shuddered as he released her to drag his hot, wet mouth to her other nipple and catch it with his teeth. He flicked her with his tongue, over and over, making her squirm until he opened his lips and suckled her again.

  Heat spiraled through her body and pleasure gripped her for several heart-stopping moments. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Frantic fingers grappled at his shirt, pulling and tugging until she found her way underneath. Warm, hair-dusted skin met her fingertips and she trembled. Muscles rippled beneath her palms as she trailed them over his chest and down to the waistband of his jeans.

  She unbuttoned his jeans with several fierce, frantic tugs. He sprang hot and huge into her hands and she stroked him. Her fingers slid back and forth, tracing the bulging head, the hard, smooth length. She cupped his testicles and massaged them, and his arousal pulsed against her.

  He reached for her skirt then, tugging it up to find that she wore no panties.

  “All this time?” he asked, his voice raw and pained, as if he wanted her so much it hurt, just as it hurt her.

  “All this time.”

  He turned her and she placed her hands on the glass. His arms came around her and he cupped her sex, dragging a finger over her wet folds in a smooth, sweet rhythm that made her moan.

  They stood in full view of anyone who happened to glance up, yet she wasn’t the least bit aware. Her senses were focused solely on the man who surrounded her, his hands on her hips, his gaze fixed on her reflection in the glass. Behind her, his arousal throbbed, pressing against her buttocks, hot and desperate for entry.

  His palm met the glass next to hers and his other arm slid around her, anchoring her for a full upward thrust until he was buried to the hilt.

  He didn’t move for a long moment. He just stood there as her body throbbed around his, though they were both standing perfectly still.

  She barely heard the ring of the emergency phone through the haze of pleasure that surrounded her. He withdrew then, only to plunge back in. She strained against him, moving her hips and meeting his thrust with a sense of urgency that had little to do with the constant ringing and everything to do with the need building inside
her.

  He moved in and out in a fierce rhythm. Pleasure splintered her brain with each thrust until she couldn’t take any more. She closed her eyes as her orgasm crashed over and consumed her entire body. Tremors racked her and her knees buckled. She went limp, but Houston was there, his strong arms around her, holding her as he plunged deep one more time.

  He followed her over the edge, his body rigid as he held himself deep.

  She slumped against him and tried to quiet the thunder of her heart. A few seconds ticked by and the ringing suddenly seemed louder, pulling them back to reality much too quickly.

  Then again, they’d had more time than if they’d been at the library in town, that was for sure. Dinah Crabtree, the head librarian, would have already called the volunteer fire department for a rescue by now.

  “Yeah?” Houston growled as he snatched up the phone. “Yep, my wife was getting sick from the motion of the elevator, so I had to stop it and give her some time to catch her breath.” He listened for a moment. “We tried to get off, but the doors stuck on the previous floor and I didn’t want her getting full-blown sick. Sorry if it caused any inconvenience.”

  He stepped away from her and let her skirt fall back into place. He pulled his underwear and jeans back on and hauled the zipper into place. He didn’t bother with the button. Instead, he yanked his T-shirt down and punched the On button. With a groan, the elevator started moving again.

  Sarah righted her shirt, leaned back against the glass and braced herself as the elevator dropped the three floors to theirs. She stared at Houston’s back, wondering how in the world he managed to look so calm and in control after what had just happened between them.

  Sex. Uncomplicated, frivolous, meaningless sex.

  Yeah, right.

  They’d passed uncomplicated, frivolous and meaningless way back when they’d shared their hopes and dreams and those homemade wine coolers.

  She’d told him things she’d never told anyone and he’d done the same, and it had forged a deeper level of intimacy than any physical contact. She’d not only fallen for him that night, she’d fallen helplessly in love for the first time in her life.