by Abbi Glines
I stepped into the place I knew so well and inhaled the floral scent I remembered, and my princess fantasy came back to me as if it were yesterday. The ache of lost childhood was gone when I was here. This was my happy place.
I noticed a table set for two, complete with a white linen tablecloth and candlelight. We were having dinner here. I’d had many picnics with Rush here in the past and tea parties with my favorite dolls. Rush must have told Major about those. Major had put a lot of thought into this, and my heart melted as I accepted that maybe he was different. That if I was smart, I’d give him another chance.
I watched as Major walked over to one of the chairs and pulled it out, then turned his baby-blue eyes to me. A crooked smile was on his lips, and he was obviously proud of himself for this. I had to admit I was touched and impressed. I’d never had a man go to the lengths he was going to in order to win me back.
“Rush told you about this place,” I said simply.
Major continued to grin and gave me a shrug. “It’s a great spot. Never imagined something like this existed in a beach town.”
“That’s why it’s magical,” I replied, unable to keep from smiling like a silly little girl with a crush.
This made me feel special in a way nothing else ever had. I’d never forget it. Major had just found his way back into my heart.
Major
I didn’t have one fucking clue why this garden had Nan looking at me with stars in her eyes, but I was grateful as hell.
I might hate the bastard, but Cope was one smart son of a bitch. He didn’t half-ass anything. He researched and did things right. For someone so damn cold, he sure knew the right things to do to win a woman. Must be his excessive brains.
“This is my favorite salad . . . and my favorite dressing.” Nan’s pleased tone had me looking up from the bed of walnuts, what looked like questionable cheese, and strawberry slices on my salad. She was beaming at me as she picked up her fork. “You thought of everything.”
Cope had, of course, made sure all her favorites were served tonight, and he had even arranged for a couple of servers to wait on us. This salad looked gross. I wanted cheddar cheese, ham, some boiled egg, bacon bits, and good ol’ Ranch dressing. This shit did not belong on a salad. How was I supposed to eat this?
I began to wonder what other things Nan loved to eat. I hoped to God it got better than this.
“Since we wouldn’t have a menu out here for you to choose from, I wanted to make sure you enjoyed your meal,” I replied, mentally preparing myself to eat the shit on my plate. Who the hell ate strawberries with lettuce? That just seemed wrong. Where were some nice fat croutons when you needed them?
“Thank you. Tonight has been perfect so far. If you bring out olive salad muffuletta bruschetta next, I might be yours for life.”
I was from Texas and had lived near Louisiana most of my life. So I knew what the hell a muffuletta sandwich was. However, I wasn’t sure what bruschetta was, and I was almost afraid to find out. I also didn’t like olives. I didn’t like the way they smelled or tasted. If that was coming out next, I wasn’t sure I would be able to chew and swallow without retching.
As if on cue, the servers appeared with silver trays full of what looked like toast with olive shit on it. Dammit all to hell.
“Ahhhh! I can’t believe you knew this!” Nan squealed and actually clapped her hands as they set the nasty-smelling olive mess on her plate.
The smile I was attempting to keep on my face was falling. Eating that salad had been hard enough. This was going to kill me.
As the server came to my side of the table, he set the same hard toast things on my plate, but mine were topped with ham and cream cheese.
“Because you don’t eat olives, sir,” the server said before turning to leave.
“You don’t eat olives?” Nan asked, studying my plate.
I might have been in love with Cope at that moment. “Uh, no. I don’t,” I replied, with one of my grins that won me women’s phone numbers everywhere. “But I might change my mind after watching you get all excited over them like that.”
Nan smirked and took a bite of her nasty olive thing. I followed her lead and ate my safe ham and cheese spread on crusty bread thing. I guessed Cope didn’t want me blowing my cover by vomiting olives everywhere. Smart man.
When the wineglasses were filled, Nan once again beamed at me. The red wine they poured into her glass was—no surprise—her favorite and not easily found in the States. Of course. Nan wouldn’t drink a wine easily found at the grocery store like the rest of the folks in Florida.
The main course wasn’t anything I recognized. Nan was, of course, thrilled when the server announced halibut filets in a phyllo wrap garnished with lemon scallion sauce. I was skeptical. I liked fish and lemon, but the other stuff was sketchy.
“Was this prepared by Bleu Chevalier?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.
The server gave her a small smile. “Yes, as was the rest of the meal.”
Nan turned her awed gaze to me. “Not only did you choose my favorite foods and take the time to know what each one was, but you hired my favorite chef. No one can prepare halibut the way Bleu does.”
Damn, Cope was the man. Jesus, he had even gotten the chef she loved. I was in! She’d be in love with me before the night was over. No telling what other surprises Cope had in store for us. “I’m trying to show you I’m in this time. Completely,” I said.
Nan studied me a moment before nodding her head in acceptance. “I see that.”
He’d done it. He had won Nan over for me. She was mine now. I could finish this, and we could all move on with our lives. Nan would be safe, and I would be living a life of excitement and thrills. I just had to prove myself this time around. Thanks to Cope, I was going to get that chance.
Nan
Although he had gone above and beyond anything I’d ever experienced from a man, I didn’t invite him in. I wasn’t going to fall into bed with him again. I didn’t trust my heart not to get involved too fast. And maybe after the kiss he gave me outside, I wasn’t all in just yet. Sure, he’d just given me an incredibly romantic night, and that should have had me panting to get his clothes off, but it hadn’t. Something was missing.
The rush of excitement or anticipation, maybe? I wasn’t sure. I just knew that I wouldn’t be sleeping with Major tonight. Not yet. I needed to want him that way first. I wasn’t going to have sex with him just to thank him for the thoughtful evening.
The kiss, it just . . . wasn’t it. There was an emptiness to it. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I didn’t feel what I wanted to feel. What a girl expects to feel. I just felt lonely. My heart felt alone.
Major had been expecting an invitation to come inside. I’d seen that on his face, and when I told him good night and left him on the doorstep, he was shocked. I wasn’t trying to punish him or play hard to get. I simply didn’t want more tonight. The food had been delicious, and the evening had been perfectly planned.
Still, I wasn’t ready to move to that next step. I wanted our kisses to mean more. For my toes to curl and my heart to race. I wanted to fear what came next but want it all the same.
I wanted what I’d tasted with Gannon. He’d ruined me. He’d shown me something that was unattainable. Was expecting it from someone else even fair? He’d been a fraud. He was going to be a father and had done to some other girl exactly what he’d done to me, but he was leaving her pregnant and alone.
Gannon was not part of a fairy tale. But I was afraid he’d set a bar so high no one would ever touch it again. I had to let his memory go and accept reality. The one where a guy took me to a private garden I loved and served me all my favorite foods. That was my reality, and although his kisses didn’t make me dizzy with need, they were real. That was my last thought as I drifted off to sleep.
The darkness covered me, and although I couldn’t see him there, I felt him, smelled him. My body reacted to him. I should be terrified or at least concerned,
but I felt no fear. My heart leaped at the thought of seeing him, of feeling him close to me. An ache I recognized began to build, and I reached for him in the thickness of the night.
“Shhh,” a deep voice replied, and I stilled. I’d do whatever he told me to do. Just so he wouldn’t leave me. Knowing all I did about him, I still wanted him in my dreams. It was safe to have him here. To hold him close to me. To inhale his scent, which I craved so deeply it was a part of me.
“Please,” I whimpered when he didn’t move in closer.
“You miss me?” he asked, in a whisper that was meant to strike fear yet only brought anticipation for what was to come.
“Yes,” I replied honestly. There was no reason to lie in a dream. I could be honest with him here. I could be honest with me. No judgment or reality to cloud my choices.
“You kissed him,” he said, in an almost condemning tone. As if he was displeased.
I wanted to remind him that he had no right to stop me. He’d let me go so easily. But I didn’t. I was afraid he’d vanish. “He was thoughtful. He made me feel special. I don’t get that. Ever.” The condemnation in my own tone was just as thick.
One long finger ran slowly from my temple to my chin, and then the fingertip trailed a path down my neck. I arched for him, hungry for any touch he’d give me. No amount of romance compared to the way this man made my body hum. I gravitated toward him with each small touch.
His hand slid over my throat, and he squeezed with a gentle pressure. “He put his lips on what is mine.”
His? I was his? I should be screaming at him that I was no one’s. No man owned me. Yet my body tingled with pleasure, and I shivered. He didn’t tighten his grip or hinder my breathing, but his hand stayed on my throat in an act of control—or was it possession? I liked the idea of both.
Gannon exuded power. It made me want to lean into him and let him take over. Not once in my life had I been able to trust someone to protect me, to please me, to want me. I did with him. Even if he was a fantasy brought on by my desires.
His other hand ran down my chest to the space between my breasts, then over my navel, before reaching my lace panties. I held my breath as my chest began to rise and fall rapidly in anticipation of his hand touching me . . . there.
“You want me. I can smell you,” he whispered, lowering his head to my ear and applying more pressure to my neck, this time making me light-headed before easing up. “Tell me what you want me to touch.”
I reached to move his hand down lower.
“No!” He snarled, taking my wrist and slamming my hand back over my head against the pillow. “Tell. Me,” he demanded. “Where do you want my hand?”
He wanted me to talk dirty. He wouldn’t touch me until I played his game. I’d play whatever game he wanted me to if I could get his hand between my legs. “I want you to touch my pussy,” I replied, feeling my skin grow hot from embarrassment.
He let out a low, deep chuckle and pressed a kiss to my temple. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he told me, then reached down with both hands and jerked my panties down to my ankles. “Open your knees,” he growled.
Before I could get them completely open, his mouth was on me. The roughness of his beard only heightened the need. “Ahhh!” I cried out, as his tongue slid into me, over and over, before circling my clit and diving in once more. The groan from his chest vibrated against me. I buried my hands in his hair and held on to him as my orgasm built to such an extreme that I thought I might stop breathing. My heart might not be strong enough, but I didn’t care. As long as I lost myself with this man’s touch, I’d be happy.
He pulled back, and I whimpered. “You want more?” His tone was teasing yet almost brutal.
“Yes.” I panted, ready to say or do whatever he demanded.
“Is this pussy mine?” he asked.
“Yes,” I agreed without pause.
“Say it.”
Again, he wanted me to play his game. I wanted the beauty only he could bring me. I’d play this game. “My pussy is yours.”
His mouth was instantly back on me, and he licked and tasted me until I was screaming his name, God’s name, and other things I don’t even remember, before the darkness engulfed me once more and I was alone.
Major
She had blown me off. I’d thought about it most of the night, and I was convinced it was a blow-off—and not the kind I liked. It was the kind that ended with her shutting the door in my face after a quick good night. What the hell? I’d taken her to a secret garden she loved and fed her all her favorite foods prepared by her favorite chef dude. I should have been invited in, dammit.
The text from Cope saying to meet him at his room in five minutes hadn’t lightened my mood. He had expected more, too. This would be my failure, of course. He had set me up with the perfect date, but somewhere along the way, I’d missed a beat. I had eaten that weird salad for her. What more could she ask for?
I had lifted my fist to knock on the door, when it opened and Cope turned to walk back to the monitors on the far right wall, where he was currently observing Nan sleep. Creepy as hell, but it was what we did. Nan was beautiful and peaceful when she was asleep. That sharp tongue wasn’t working then.
“She didn’t invite you in. Why is that?”
Like I knew the answer to this fucking question.
“I don’t know. I did everything I normally do, and I even ate that gross salad. Thanks for the olive-free bruschetta, though. I don’t think I would’ve kept that down.”
Cope didn’t look away from the screens. “I spent hours of research on making last night an easy in for you. Something you did wrong kept her from letting you in. We won’t get our info if you don’t fucking get into her bed.” His voice rose to a loud roar at the end, and I had to admit I hated when he did that. I was always waiting for him to pull out his gun and say “Fuck it” then nail me between the eyes or some crazy shit like that.
“I’m going to work on her today. I think she was overwhelmed by the date of a lifetime last night and didn’t know what to do or think.”
“The kiss. Did she draw close to you?”
No, not exactly. It had almost felt as if she wasn’t there at all. She’d been distant. “Yeah, sure. Like always.”
Cope shot me a pointed glare, not believing me, then went back to watching her. “Get into her bed.”
Yes, sir. Asshole. I hated the motherfucker. I didn’t care that he’d gotten me an olive-free bread thingy. He was still a bastard.
As soon as I left Captain Asshole’s, I texted Nan. I knew she was awake, because we’d watched her wake up right before he ordered me to leave and fix things. I didn’t see her get out of bed, but I did see her open her eyes and stretch. Damn, she was gorgeous. I wondered if her morning breath even smelled good. Probably not. No one had good morning breath.
Good morning. Want to go for a morning run on the beach? I asked. I knew she loved running on the beach. I figured if I suggested her favorite things, she’d want me around more.
Ten minutes later, she finally responded. Sure. I’ll be ready in fifteen.
Score. Fifteen minutes, and I’d have her all to myself again. I needed a plan. For starters, I needed to ease her into talking about her recent past. Like when she was in Paris last July with a man named Franco Livingston. I doubted she had a clue about the man’s past. If she’d known she was dating a child molester and drug trafficker, she’d have been horrified.
Before I dug that deep, I needed to spend a few days with her, soaking up her time as much as possible. Until we casually moved into the conversation about our past relationships maybe. I could ask Cope how to go about it, but I didn’t want any more of his help. I’d get Nan cleared of any connection to Livingston and then move on.
I had left my temporary home this morning ready to run on the beach. This was my plan before I’d gone to sleep last night. I hadn’t gone looking for a woman after leaving Nan, and a part of me thought I deserved a fucking award for that. I
went home alone and made notes on the night, then drank some whiskey before sleeping.
This job was not going to end my career before it even started. Captain had done it for years and had been damn good at it. I was just as badass as he was. I could do this shit. I would do it. I had notes! Lots of fucking notes!
Nan
The dream was haunting me. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t focus on anything Major was saying. I had even checked my panties this morning to see if they were still on. It had felt so real. The disappointment when I’d touched them made my heart sink. Of course, I’d still been in that half-asleep, half-awake phase when the idea of a man I hardly knew coming into my room at night while I slept and giving me the best oral sex I’d ever had sounded like a solid idea. Not scary at all.
Yeah.
It was a fantasy. The kind that messed with your head and your reality, making both suck. Because right now, if Major chatted about one more pointless thing, I was going to toss the chicken salad sandwich I was eating right at him.
I had suggested going to the club for lunch, because I knew three of the waitresses he had fucked here. I requested to be seated in one of their areas just to watch him squirm, to see if he ended up taking an extended “restroom break,” which he was quickly becoming known for all over town.
He wasn’t squirming or making eye contact with our waitress. And she was clearly annoyed. Probably hurt. Well, I didn’t know what to do with that. Because if I hadn’t gone to Vegas and hadn’t experienced Gannon, I’d be smiling smugly at her right now like I had won. But won what? Major? I didn’t want him.
Even with all that sweet stuff he had done, one dream about Gannon, and I remembered what Major was lacking. And that list was seriously long. Maybe the pretty boy was what most girls wanted, but until they had been with a man whose sole goal in life was not to talk about himself, then they didn’t know what they were missing.
