Best of Virgins Bundle

by Cathy Williams

  “You don’t have to get hostile,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. Within a second she was flat on her back.

  “Like I said,” he repeated, completely removing the sheet. He took his time, his eyes seemingly drinking in every detail of her naked form. “I think the suit you have on looks just fine.”

  He kissed her and let go of her arms, allowing her to wrap them around his neck and hold him close.

  She said, “I just can’t believe that…”

  “That what?”

  “That I’m with you. You’re so different from my expectation.”

  “Different good?” he asked, kissing her. “Or different bad?”

  They were interrupted by his cell phone. He pushed himself up and glanced at the number. “It’s my office.”

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  He sighed and swung open his phone. “Yes?”

  He glanced at her. “No,” he said finally. He turned away. “She spoke out of turn. Don’t start yet.” He closed the phone and turned back toward her. But something in his demeanor had changed.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine,” he said simply.

  But she had the feeling she was not being told the whole truth. “There’s not a problem, is there? A problem with Demion Mills?”

  “You tell me,” he said. He held a hand to her cheek. “Are you sure about this?”

  She nodded.

  He said, “This buy-out is going to tie you to New York…to the mill for a long, long time.”

  She felt her blood run cold. She knew instinctively something was wrong. Why was he trying to talk her out of her decision? “What are you getting at, Hunter?” she asked, wrapping the sheet back around her.

  “I can help you, Cassie. I can help you live the life you dreamed. You could go back to school. You could pursue a career in photography.”

  “But I don’t want a career in photography.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “You’re saying that you’re happy to spend the rest of your life just working in a factory—”

  “Just?” She sat up straight. She felt as if she had been slapped.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I’m proud of what I do. And I’m happy. Is it what I dreamed about as a child? No. But dreams change. So do people.” She shook her head. “This may be difficult for someone like you to understand, but I’m content to be who I am. Cassie Edwards, weaver. I don’t need money to make me happy.”

  He glanced away. “I understand that. Unfortunately, in business, money and profitability are the bottom line. It’s going to take a lot more than positive thinking to turn this mill around. This would be a difficult project for the most experienced of marketing people.”

  “We had a deal,” she said softly.

  “We still do.” He crossed his arms and said, “I just want you to be aware of what’s in store for you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I’m not going to get hurt.”

  He walked back toward the bed and took a seat beside her. “Look. I feel like we have a future here. I’m not sure what’s happening to us but I think it might be something. I’d like for us to give it a chance.”

  “So would I.”

  “Well, that’s going to be difficult when I’m the one who’s going to have to go in there and foreclose on your home if need be. I’m afraid this stay of execution I’ve given you is only temporary.”

  “Don’t ask me to choose between you and the mill.”

  “I would never do that,” he said. He shook his head. “Why do you think I’m willing to do this, Cassie? I care about you more than…well, more than I’ve cared for anyone in a long, long time. I want to help you.” He stood up and walked toward the balcony. At the French doors he stared silently at the Atlantic.

  The anger that was building inside Cassie suddenly dissipated. He was talking to her like a…like a friend. She walked up to him and slipped her arm around his waist.

  When he turned toward her, she could see the pain in his eyes.

  “I have to do this, Hunter. I will never be happy if I let my friends down.”

  “But you may still,” he said. “The Demions couldn’t make this mill work with or without the patent.”

  “We’re not going to make the same mistakes.”

  “You have no experience running a company. Neither does anyone else.”

  “I’ll learn. We’ll all learn.” So he thought she would fail. It was one thing to question her decision, but to insult her intelligence was another.

  After all, he was wrong. Wasn’t he?

  Or was he?

  Perhaps she was just being foolish. Perhaps the Demions had been right to sell the mill. Perhaps, even with the patent, the mill was doomed. Machines could do it faster and more accurately. So why would people be willing to pay the higher price for hand-woven garments?

  But how could she stand by and do nothing?

  She couldn’t. For one thing was certain: the mill was worth saving.

  She turned away. “I guess I’ll go get ready.”

  He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. He looked sad, almost tortured. “I want you to be happy.”

  She had no doubt he meant it. And that single statement touched her more than all the sweet nothings she had ever heard.

  She reached up and kissed him. He pulled her toward him, crushing her lips with his. Suddenly he stopped. He cradled her head in his hands, staring into her eyes. Then, as if overtaken by passion, he kissed her once again.

  They came together with the desperation of a drowning man in search of air. They made love as if the connection between them was vital to their very being. It had moved beyond desire. It was now a need.

  Afterward he murmured, “What have you done to me?”

  She laughed and pulled herself up. “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve gone from virgin to…I don’t know.”

  He kissed her.

  She glanced at the clock. “What time are we supposed to leave?”

  He shrugged. “An hour or so.”

  An hour or so? “But my clothes!”

  He glanced at the heap on the floor. He opened up the bottom of his nightstand and pulled out a phonebook. He opened it up and seconds later said, “There’s a one-hour dry cleaner near here.” He shut the phonebook and said, “I’ll take them.”

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved. He threw on jeans and a T-shirt. He looked years younger than his age, more like a muscular surfer than a businessman.

  “I’ll be back,” he said, holding up her clothes.

  He was gone less than an hour. When he returned, she had showered and was finishing drying her hair. “Thanks again,” she said, turning off the dryer and giving him a kiss. “How much time?”

  He looked at his watch. “Well, considering the limousine is already here…five minutes?”

  She let out a yelp, grabbed her clothes and slammed the door.

  A few minutes later he was showered and changed and she was wearing the identical outfit she had worn the day before. “You look beautiful,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek. “But you saw this outfit yesterday.”

  “That doesn’t change anything,” he said, keeping his hands around her waist. He kissed her neck and smiled.

  Then he grabbed her hand and led her out of the house.

  She said, “I’ve never been to the horse races before.”

  He opened the limousine door and stopped. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

  She knew for a fact she would not be. How could she be disappointed as long as she was with him?

  He slid in beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled against him. She was overcome by emotion. For the first time in her life she felt as if she belonged to someone. She felt loved.

  He did not tell the limou
sine driver where he was going. Apparently the driver already knew. She turned toward Hunter and smiled. “Do you ever drive yourself?”

  He laughed. “Anyplace but here.”

  “Why not here?”

  Suddenly the limousine driver spoke. “Because I need a job.” The man turned around and flashed Cassie a smile from ear to ear.

  Hunter shrugged. “There you have it,” he said mischievously.

  Cassie laughed.

  He glanced at her purse. “Got your camera?”

  She smiled and patted her purse. “Naturally.”

  The limousine pulled into the airport. “What are we doing here?” she asked.

  “We’re flying to the track.”

  He obviously liked surprising her with transportation. A boat to a board meeting, a motorbike to lunch, a plane to the racetrack…What was next?

  But if Hunter thought she was impressed by such extravagance he was wrong. She would’ve been just as happy traveling by foot.

  He led her into a private hangar. They were greeted by an employee and led out to the tarmac where a helicopter was waiting. Hunter opened the door and assisted her inside.

  “When are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asked.

  “I already told you. The—”

  “Racetrack. Right. I guess I should’ve been more specific. Where is the racetrack located?”

  “It’s in Florida,” he said. “Outside of Miami.”

  The helicopter lifted off the ground, and as the vehicle surged past the Nassau skyline, she held his hand. Twenty minutes later she was looking at the coastline of Miami.

  She let go of Hunter’s hand and pulled out her camera. She snapped her photos as the helicopter flew past towering glass buildings. At times they were so close she could see the occupants inside.

  “That’s where we’re going,” Hunter said, pointing out the window.

  She held her breath as the helicopter landed on top of a narrow building. The door suddenly opened and she was being helped out.

  Hunter grabbed her hand and together they walked down the flight of stairs leading into the hotel.

  “Welcome, Mr. Axon,” said a man in a uniform.

  They followed the man out of the hotel and into another waiting limousine. The driver nodded as they entered, but once again he did not ask them where they were going. He already knew.

  They drove for another half hour to the outskirts of Miami. He pulled into a large parking lot and drove up to the entrance of the building.

  Hunter took her hand. “Show time.”

  She followed him through the gate and over to the betting booths. She could hear the din of the crowd cheering outside in the grandstand.

  Hunter picked up a betting card and glanced over it. He headed toward a booth and placed his bets. All were for one hundred dollars.

  When she looked at the card, one name stood out. “Hunter,” she said. She pulled out her checkbook. “I want one hundred on Hunter.”

  “What?” he said, fumbling for the card. He grabbed the card and shook his head. “There’s a horse named Hunter?”

  “Yes,” said Cassie, smiling. “What are the chances of that? I think it’s a sign from the heavens. That’s our winning horse.”

  “He’s a long shot,” said Hunter.

  “Really?” she asked.

  An impeccably dressed older gentleman standing nearby joined them. “That’s what they say.” He shook his head. “But I’m not so sure. The more distance for this horse, the better. He’s definitely a horse that gets rolling late.”

  “So you think he can win?” Cassie asked the man.

  He shrugged his linen-encased shoulders. “As much as any other horse. You just need luck and an animal that can handle the distance.”

  She turned to Hunter, who looked unconvinced. “What’s wrong, Hunter?” she teased. “Don’t think your namesake can handle the distance?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see.” He reached for his wallet and told the woman in the booth, “The lady would like one hundred on Hunter.”

  “No way,” Cassie said. “This is my bet. Don’t think you’re going to crash it.” She nudged him out of the way. “To whom do I make the check out?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Hunter said, putting his hand over her checkbook. “I’m paying for this.”

  “I have a hunch,” she said.

  She made out the check. But before she could hand it to the woman, he stopped her. “If you put your check away,” he said, “I’ll wager one thousand dollars.”

  She smiled. “Now that’s a risky bet.”

  “I have a hunch,” he said with a grin. “Besides, didn’t you just remind me this was for a good cause?”

  She reluctantly put her check back in her purse, and he put down his credit card. The woman in the booth handed him a ticket, which he gave to Cassie.

  They walked out to the track to see a group of horses finishing a race. “Are you hungry?” he asked Cassie. “There’s a clubhouse above us.” He nodded toward the glass windows overlooking the track.

  She shook her head. “No,” she said. He smiled and led her toward the seats near the track.

  Hunter scanned the crowd and said, “I think we’re sitting down there.”

  All of a sudden they were interrupted by a busty brunette. “Hunter? Oh, my God!”

  Hunter turned. Cassie could feel him stiffen.

  “I heard you were going to be here today.” The woman looked at Cassie and said, “Hi.”

  Hunter introduced her. “Cassie Edwards, this is a friend of mine.”

  “Val Forbes,” the woman said, giving Cassie a quick, mechanical nod. Before Cassie had a chance to respond, Val said to Hunter, “I tried to call you but your office said you were out of town.”

  “Yes,” Hunter said. “I’ve been traveling.”

  “You look good,” the woman said, her breasts heaving. “Really good.” Cassie raised an eyebrow as she let go of Hunter’s hand. This was no ordinary old friend. It was obvious that they had just run into one of Hunter’s warm-blooded women—one whose name he hadn’t recalled. Cassie could feel the warmth seep up her back. She looked the woman over carefully. Had Hunter shared his bed with her? Would he share his bed with her again?

  The thought was enough to make her ill. Or at least in need of some sweets.

  “Why don’t you two catch up?” Cassie said. “I’ll meet you at the seats.”

  If he wanted to talk to this beautiful woman, then let him. After all, Cassie had no claims on him. She had made a promise to herself: no commitments. Despite their intimacy, she had to force herself to keep their relationship in perspective.

  She marched up to the snack booth and said, “I’d like a chocolate ice cream cone, please.” She hesitated. Drastic times called for drastic measures. “Make that a double.”

  The man gave her the ice cream cone and Cassie began to devour it like a woman deprived.

  The voice from behind her almost made her jump. “I thought you said you weren’t hungry.”

  Cassie wiped off her chin and said, “I thought you said she was a friend.”

  “She is.”

  “Hmm. We should all have friends like that,” she said, taking another lick of her ice cream.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her head began to pound. Cassie touched her forehead, willing the pain away.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Brain freeze,” she said.

  “Brain freeze?”

  “Too much, too fast. Ice cream, that is.” She held it out to him. “I’m done.”

  “Thanks,” he said sarcastically as he accepted the half-melted cone and dumped it in the trash. “Bend over,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I used to get brain freezes all the time when I was a kid. Bend over. I don’t know how, but it works.”

  He massaged the back of her neck. She didn’t know if it was the massage or the bend, but he was righ
t. Her headache disappeared.

  She flipped her head back up. “Much better.”

  He smiled. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s go sit down.”

  She followed him toward their seats. She wanted to ask him more questions about Val but she knew she couldn’t. After all, it was none of her business. “So how do you know that woman?” she heard herself ask.

  He glanced at her and said, “You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Jealous?” The mere thought was laughable. She and Hunter hardly had a commitment. Besides, she knew the score.

  So why was her heart burning? “Why should I be jealous?” she said as coolly as she could manage.

  “No reason at all.”

  “I couldn’t care less,” she added for good measure.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, leading her toward the two empty front-row seats. “Because it looks like we’re sitting next to her.”

  Cassie glanced where he was pointing. There was the busty brunette, sitting next to an even more beautiful blonde. The women had not noticed them yet. They were huddled together, as if deep in conversation. “Talk about luck!” Cassie said as enthusiastically as she could manage.

  As soon as all the introductions were made once again, Cassie slid in next to the brunette. She couldn’t help but notice that Hunter had let go of her hand. Was it because he didn’t want to appear affectionate in front of Val?

  Once they were seated, Val and the blonde continued their tête-à-tête. Cassie tried not to listen, but she was helpless to do otherwise. In only five minutes she learned more about Val than she cared to know: she just received $300 highlights, the dress she was wearing cost $800, her shoes were by Manolo Blahnik, her dinner the previous evening cost $200. The most traumatic news, the one that received an onslaught of sympathy from the blonde, was that despite having just received a $100 manicure, the nail polish on her left pinkie was already chipped.

  Finally Val turned to Cassie and said, “You look familiar. Have I met you before?”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. “Just minutes ago…”

  “No, no,” the woman laughed. “Before today.”

  Cassie shook her head. “I doubt it.”

  “At the MS benefit?”

  “No.”

  “Was it the Governor’s ball in Washington?”