At Last

by Mindy McKinley

  She could hear him smiling. She quickly typed off some titles that would work with the Napoleonic era.

  LULA: War & Peace

  LULA: Master and Commander

  DOM: Exactly

  LULA: Brilliant

  This time it took him longer to respond. Her throat started to close in.

  DOM: So you think I’m brilliant?

  “Ha,” she said aloud, sinking into her chair. She was enjoying this far more than she should. Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

  LULA: That’s not what I said.

  DOM: Yes it is.

  LULA: No, I said the idea was brilliant, you on the other hand are ...

  Good God, her heart was racing faster than a prize horse.

  DOM: I can help, hold on, I’m great with words ...

  DOM: Fantastic

  LULA: Nope

  DOM: Awe-inspiring

  She laughed.

  LULA: Try again

  DOM: Maddeningly handsome?

  Well, she had to give him that one.

  DOM: That’s the one! I knew it.

  LULA: I did not agree to that!

  DOM: You took way too long to respond, gorgeous.

  Her stomach clenched again. Gorgeous. Dear Lord, this man was creating the most delicious swirl of emotions in her.

  DOM: I know exactly what you were thinking.

  LULA: I bet you WISH you did.

  There was another long pause and she held her breath. The dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared again before his text came through.

  DOM: You have NO idea.

  Her pulse quickened and her fingers ached to type something saucy, but she knew better than to open this door any further. With a release of breath, she answered.

  LULA: It’s a good idea. Have a good night, Mr. Adams.

  DOM: Please call me Dom.

  LULA: Good night, Mr. Adams.

  DOM: Good night, Lu.

  She let out another girlish giggle and tried to wipe the smile from her face. It didn’t work.

  Before she set her phone down, she sent a quick text to Amy.

  LULA: I’m going to kill you.

  She was immediate with her response, as if she had been waiting to hear from her.

  AMY: Gah! Did he text you?

  LULA: Don’t change the subject.

  AMY: He did! OMG, what did he want?

  LULA: Tomorrow. You die. Make arrangements.

  With that, she flopped happily on the couch, completely unable to finish her work.

  Dominic

  “Good morning, Miss Stanley.”

  Lula froze when she saw him standing at her classroom door early the next morning. She looked charming as usual, hair falling everywhere, pink glasses sliding a little, a purple bag full of papers slung over her shoulder.

  Dom held a cup of coffee out to her with a shrug and a shy smile. “It’s black, I didn’t know what you like.”

  He could see her fight off a smile before she answered, “I don’t drink coffee.” She pushed past him to unlock the door. “But thank you,” she added.

  He waited behind her as she fiddled with the door and then followed her in. “It’s all right, more for me,” he answered, enjoying the curves of her body in that pink polka-dot skirt and fuzzy sweater.

  She put her things down on the desk and turned to him. Her lips were pressed in a line; her amber eyes searched him for some sort of explanation. “Why are you here again?”

  He swept his gaze across her ample breasts. He couldn’t help it; they were pushing delightfully against her sweater as if they wanted him to touch them. Her cheeks were flushed when he met her eyes again. He shrugged. “I figured if we were going to do War & Peace, I need to get started reading it. I wanted to make sure you’re still on board with what we discussed last night.”

  “Right,” she breathed, clearly seeing through his excuse.

  He smiled. He was cracking her. He could see the pink in her cheeks rise as she thought about their text conversation. Truth be told, it made him feel a certain rise in heat as well. He didn’t tell her all the other things he had been tempted to text her overnight when he was in bed and the fantasies started all over again. Having her number might be more dangerous than he originally thought.

  “Okay, yes, let’s do War and Peace.” She pushed by him. “I have a copy somewhere in here, you can borrow it. I just need to find it.”

  “Perfect,” he said, more to her backside as she drifted away than to her.

  He leaned against her desk and watched as she searched around the room. The energy between them crackled and hissed. Without a doubt he knew she would be the best sex he’d ever had. His cock jumped in anticipation of finally bending her over, feasting on that perfect body.

  He was going to have to take it slow. Glacial. It would take planning, precision, focus .... He looked at her ass again as she shuffled through some shelves and decided he couldn’t realistically wait any longer to get started if he wanted to have her before he was eighty.

  As she was reaching for a book on the top shelf he slid up behind her and let his body brush against her just the tiniest bit. “Let me help you,” he whispered, his voice was low, his lips just inches from her ear.

  Her hand froze and a tiny gasp escaped her. Delicious waves of energy passed between their bodies and he smiled when goosebumps trailed her neck. He wanted to kiss her lovely velvety skin but he refrained and reached up to grab the book. It was a miracle he didn’t harden against the curve of her ass.

  She turned around quickly with parted lips and a quick little breath escaped her. She didn’t try to move. Neither did he. Jesus, she felt good against him. A perfect fit.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, searching his eyes.

  He took her chin in his hand and ran his thumb across her bottom lip. It was soft, succulent, perfect. “You’re welcome, Lu.”

  He wanted to kiss her, fuck. He wanted to undress her and have his way with her. Instead he gave her a heated look she could not have misunderstood, and took a step back.

  Cool air rushed between their separated bodies, and he had to take a moment to catch his breath. He held the book up awkwardly. “I suppose I should go; I’ve got a lot to read.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered, a stunned, slightly disappointed look on her face. “You should.”

  He grinned, beyond thrilled to see that she was just as befuddled as he was. “See you later, Lu.”

  All she could do was nod. Satisfied, he left the room covering his private parts with War & Peace.

  Lula

  “Oh my God. I love this, I love all of this.” Amy was practically bouncing in her seat as Lula recounted her last few interactions with Dom. “He actually signed up for Lit Club?”

  “Why aren’t you on my side?” Lula whined, slumping in her seat. She tore her sandwich into shreds.

  Amy pursed her lips. “Are you still mad I gave him your number?”

  “Yes. You’re supposed to be my friend, protect me from—she waved her hand in the air—“men like him.”

  Amy eyed her. “You mean devastatingly handsome, single bachelors who might be interested in you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah-ha!” Amy pointed a finger at her. “I knew you thought he was handsome.”

  She groaned in frustration. “Of course I think he’s handsome, who doesn’t?” Good Lord, if that wasn’t an understatement, she didn’t know what was. He was Godlike, but Amy would never hear her say that.

  “You have a point.” Amy agreed with a tilt of her head. “But I still don’t understand why you don’t want to see where this leads.”

  “Because I know exactly where it leads. To a couple nights of amazing sex.” She swallowed and had to squeeze her thighs together when she imagined his naked body sliding against hers. “And then nothing. No texts, no calls, he suddenly pretends he’s never met me. I’ve been through it, remember?”

  Amy gave her a soft look. “I know, but, Lu, you can’t hold every man r
esponsible for a few assholes you’ve gone out with.”

  That’s where she was wrong. If she could protect herself and her heart, she was going to damn well do it. “I can and I will. Besides, I think you just want me to fuck him so you can have all the juicy details.”

  She smiled impishly. “Maybe.”

  “Ames!”

  “Okay, fine, no more about Mr. Adams for now.” She leaned forward. “Can I tell you about Gerardo?”

  Oh thank God, a subject change. “Oooh, yes please.” She clapped her hands together. “I want to hear all about him.” One of Amy’s torrid stories was sure to keep her mind off of Dom.

  Only it didn’t. For every position and impossible maneuver Amy described, Lula now had a new fantasy about Dom to go along with it. She was almost panting when Amy finished her story. She was suddenly especially interested in having her ankles tied to the bedposts.

  “You all right, Lu?” Amy asked with a slightly amused smile.

  “Of course.” Her voice came out a touch strained and she flushed. Her friend could read every emotion she ever had and, if her expression was any indication, she knew exactly what Lula was thinking. There wasn’t really any point in trying to deny it, so she diverted. “So,” she said, shifting in her seat, “are you going to see him again?”

  “Tonight,” Amy answered with a flash of her eyes and a sexy wiggle. “I bought some fun toys just for the occasion.”

  Lula nearly groaned as more fantasies single-filed into her brain. “Sounds fun,” she squeaked as she pictured Dom tracing a toy up her inner thigh.

  By the time she left Amy’s office, she was thoroughly and inappropriately aroused. She had to stop in the ladies’ room and splash water on her skin before she could look any of her students in the face for the afternoon.

  Once she managed to get control of her body, she still had to fight the hope that Dom would stop to see her again after school. It was silly; he had no reason to. He had the book, he didn’t need anything else from her.

  He even had her number. Which he clearly wasn’t using, judging by the empty message icon that mocked her all day long.

  “I know,” she told the screen after she had checked it for the fiftieth time, “I’m pathetic.” Turning it all the way off, she shoved it deep in her bag so she wouldn’t check it again.

  When he didn’t appear in her doorway at the end of the day, she forced back a disappointed sigh and started working on grading a fresh batch of essays.

  She popped in her headphones, cranked her Ella playlist, and got to work.

  Dominic

  Dom stood just outside Lula’s room. He hadn’t planned to stop and see her that afternoon since he didn’t have a good reason to. But he found himself there anyway, standing outside her door, absolutely mesmerized by her voice.

  He didn’t interrupt her, he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he listened as her smoky voice curled around the words of “Cheek to Cheek.” He got so lost in the sound that he forgot where he was for several minutes. Every cell in his body felt rooted to the spot.

  Images from the night he saw her at Mo’s swirled through his mind, the red of her lips, the arch of her neck. It all made him painfully short of breath.

  Dom snapped back to reality when her voice lilted up at the end of the song and hit that last note. He shook his head, she was absolutely incredible.

  Unable to form words and not wanting to interrupt her, he quietly retreated. His face was burning. He felt like he had witnessed something very intimate and deeply moving in a way he didn’t want to analyze.

  The buzz of his phone in his pocket pulled him out of his trance and he laughed as he read Seb’s message.

  SEB: Want to hit Mo’s again tonight?

  He couldn’t type a reply fast enough.

  DOM: Not a fucking chance.

  But Seb was hard to shake; it always took about seven noes to get him to back off. He paused and leaned against a locker to await the onslaught.

  SEB: It’s supposed to be a killer show.

  DOM: It’s Tuesday.

  SEB: And?

  DOM: It’s a school night.

  SEB: You sound like mom.

  DOM: I sound like a responsibly employed adult.

  SEB: Without a dick.

  DOM: Fuck off Seb, hit up Mason.

  When he finally had no more responses, he pocketed his phone and made his way to his car. It would be nice to be Seb, he thought sometimes, free to do whatever he wanted, never having to know what day of the week it was.

  He shook away the thought. He had a meeting with the curator of the Chicago History Museum and then he had to start reading War & Peace if he wanted to finish it this century.

  Who would have thought he’d go out of his way to read a 1,200-page novel just to fuck a pretty girl? The real kicker was that it was his idea. He should have done some research first, surely not all Napoleonic novels were that long.

  It didn’t matter, he would read it. There was no way he was going to show up unprepared. He knew damn well this was a test and he was going to be damn sure that he passed it because he needed Lula Stanley beneath him sooner rather than later.

  The memory of her voice and their near-kiss that morning made him harden. In frustration, he hit the gas pedal to push the thoughts away.

  His phone dinged again just as he pulled up to the museum. He rolled his eyes as he read it.

  MASON: Would you please call mom back? She thinks you’re dead.

  Dom hovered his thumb over the phone. He still hadn’t come to terms with that situation. He had let fifteen phone calls go to voicemail in the last two days, and though he was ashamed, he wasn’t ready to talk to her yet.

  DOM: I’m alive. Pass it along.

  MASON: You can’t do this forever.

  He grinned. Mason was always the peacemaker.

  DOM: I’m aware.

  Without waiting for a response, he turned his phone off and headed into the meeting. He was nearly late.

  The curator, Tom Tourneau, greeted him with a handshake and slap to the back when he knocked on his office door. They were old friends and research partners from college and without his help and access to resources Dom’s manuscript would be just an outline.

  “Good to see you, man. You look good.” Tom’s red hair and freckles made him look eternally sixteen.

  “Same, same,” he said, ushering him into the room. “Come on, I think you’re going to like what I’ve got for you today.”

  Dom’s heart rate increased at the slight tinge of excitement in Tom’s voice. Tom never got excited about anything. Ever. He had seen it all.

  Tom closed the office door behind them, led him to his desk, and motioned toward a large bank box that sat atop it. He put his hands on his hips and smiled what could only be called triumphantly. “Okay, so remember that anonymous ad you ran for documents and personal evidence that anyone might have about the Menotti family?”

  “Of course.” It had been a year ago or so. They both agreed to have all the correspondence from the infamous crime family sent to the museum to keep things anonymous, but all they had gotten so far was a few bills of sale and one letter wishing a distant cousin a Happy Easter. Not exactly newsworthy.

  Tom put his hand on top of the box. “Well, this came in yesterday. An anonymous delivery.”

  Dom’s excitement started churning. This drama was deeply out of character for Tom.

  “I just got around to looking through it today.” He pulled the lid off; it was full of personal letters, documents, and handwritten scraps of paper. It was an utter disaster, but the look on Tom’s face told him that it was a beautiful one.

  He met Dom’s eyes. “It’s the contents from Giancarlo Menotti’s desk. All of it.”

  Dom fell back a step, mouth open in disbelief. He shook his head. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be that lucky. “No way.” He stepped toward the box. “It’s not possible.”

  “Oh I know,” Tom assured him. “Believe me, I wouldn’t
make this type of thing up. I know what it means to you. I spent all day looking through it.” He pushed the box toward him. “Look for yourself.”

  Dom’s hands shook as he started to rifle through the box. Page after page was covered in Menotti’s distinct handwriting and easily recognizable signature. Digging faster, he found schedules, letters, bills of service, everything he had always dreamed of but never thought he’d see in his lifetime.

  He fell into a chair, mouth open. Astonished. Tears of joy pressed against the back of his eyes and a buzz of electricity coursed through him. “I don’t understand. How? Why?”

  Tom just shook his head, clearly as shocked as he was.

  “This means everything. This means ...”—he looked up at Tom—“I’m the only writer to have had access to this information.”

  “It means,” Tom said, putting the lid back on the box with a smile, “you have a lot more work to do.”

  Dom ran a hand through his hair and a smile spread across his face. He thought about how happy his father would be for him right now. “Yes, I do,” he answered, pushing himself up. “I really, really do.”

  He grabbed the box off the desk, thanked Tom repeatedly, and headed to his car feeling as though he owned the world.

  Chapter 9

  Lula

  That night Lula Googled everything she could think of in relation to her father with zero luck. Now she sat on her sofa with a glass of wine, typing random combinations of things with the name “Joe” and cursing when this convoluted system failed her as well.

  She had even tried to contact her mother’s college friend but hadn’t received a reply. And unless that came through, it seemed she was at another dead end.

  Sighing, she heaved the laptop onto the sofa and reached for her phone.

  No messages.

  Not that she expected one, but that didn’t lessen her disappointment.

  Blowing out a breath, she connected her phone to the surround sound and cranked her Ella playlist. If anything would help bring her out of her mood, it would be the Queen of Jazz.

  The sultry swing of “Basin Street Blues” pulled her off the couch and she decided to finish the curtains she had abandoned the previous night.

  Happily singing, she was nearly finished with the last seam when her phone dinged.