TarotCafeSeries_bundle

by Lynn LaFleur

  After Brett tugged on her hands again, she sat up, slowly at first, aching a bit in the most intimate places. She glanced down to find a flaming red love bite on her right inner thigh and wondered if that was the lone souvenir she’d take with her tonight. Her fingers caught on a tangle of curls when she pushed a hank of hair out of her eyes. She had no idea where her clothes had landed.

  Brett must have read her mind. He pointed to one of the massive carved wooden chairs at the far end of the room. Two sat side by side, like rough hewn thrones. Someone had draped her dress on the back. Her shoes and handbag sat primly on the velvet seat cushion.

  “What about…”

  “I tucked your stockings in your purse.” He dropped her earrings in her palm. “Turn around and I’ll fasten your necklace.”

  She did as told and lifted her hair. That left only the red thong. “What about…” she asked over her shoulder.

  With that same wicked smile, he patted the pocket of his jacket. “I’m two for two.”

  And if we keep doing this, I’ll run out of underwear.

  Dressed only in a necklace and earrings Abby walked slowly away from the bed, across the room fit for a royal pair, to the dual thrones and her dress. She felt Brett watching her. The things they’d done in the past four hours had cured her of her shyness.

  She shuffled through her handbag for a comb and walked to the large mirror that hung on the wall opposite the bed. Had it been only an hour ago when she’d stood boldly in front of the mirror watching Brett make love to her? He’d coaxed her to watch, and kept reminding her to keep her eyes open so she’d remember how she looked when she came.

  After that, Abby had barely had time to catch her breath. Brett had led her back to the bed, instructed her to close her eyes or risk the mask again. She’d heard him walk out of the room and return seconds later.

  “Open your eyes.”

  She did and gasped at the huge pewter tray Brett carried. It was piled high with an assortment of fruits and mounds of whipped cream.

  He sat down beside her, placed the tray to his right and lifted her into his lap. He did it so quickly and easily, she might have weighed little more than a feather—a feather as naked as the day she was born.

  Somewhere, Brett had found a loin cloth and wrapped it around his hips and thighs. It did little good, she decided, especially with his very hard cock pressing against her.

  “What are you doing—“

  “Shh!”

  She pressed her lips together, content to watch him swirl his fingers through the cream. Her breath caught and she shivered when he painted a circle around the areola of her left breast.

  “What do you say?”

  She squirmed in his lap. His cock felt harder still. “Thank you.”

  From there he moved to her stomach, tickled her navel and then walked his fingers over her mound and between her legs. She balled her fists and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to imagine what came next.

  Brett laid her on the bed. He placed a pillow beneath her head and another under her bottom. She had no choice, her legs fell open.

  She smelled the strawberry first, and when she opened her eyes she saw a dish filled with the bright red fruit, each almost the size of the palm of her hand.

  Besides the fragrance of the strawberries, she caught the scent of warmed figs. Another bowl held Bing cherries still on the stems, several bananas, and an orange-sized pomegranate, with skin a deep shade of ruby.

  Brett swirled and dipped one of the strawberries in the cream. He tasted the tip. “Umm. Almost as sweet as you, my love.” With that, he lightly skimmed one of the peaks of cream and fed the rest to her.

  Abby lay with her knees spread, covered in goose bumps. Every nerve begged for his touch. Her pussy wept and her clit thrummed.

  “Brett, please…”

  He dipped another strawberry and slid it past her lips. “Please what?” He teased her mouth and tongue with the berry while he drew slow, easy circles around her clit with the index finger of his other hand.

  Abby felt another climax building. She needed more than teasing. Her pussy was crying out for attention. She didn’t want another strawberry, she wanted that wonderful cock that tented his loin cloth. She wanted him inside her.

  “Brett, please, I want you…oh…my…god!”

  That’s how they’d begun the dessert portion of the evening, and before he’d “licked the platter clean”, she’d discovered new ways to enjoy fruit she’d never even fantasized possible.

  She giggled again, remembering that she’d even had a cherry again—three to be exact—big, round, darkly bold Bings. He’d slowly slipped them inside her, and when she thought her mind would explode as well as her body, he’d found a way to pop them out, both maddening and divine. How she wished she’d lost the original with such finesse.

  When they’d tired of playing with the fruit, Brett had scooped Abby into his arms and carried her to a candlelit alcove that looked out on the ocean. A slow fall of clear spring water flowed down a wall made of rocks and into a pool warmed to the perfect temperature and fragrant with an elixir that cleansed as well as healed. Afterward, he carried her back to the bed, spread her legs apart and gently massaged her with lotion and powder. It was the most caring thing anyone had done for her in her adult life.

  She saw he’d enjoyed it too. His face glowed with a mix of joy, tenderness and undeniable passion. There wasn’t a woman alive who, at one time or another, hadn’t wished for a fairy godmother to wave her magic wand and call up a Prince Charming like Brett. But there was so much more to him than charm and sexual prowess. He had the depth other men lacked. She ached to peel away his many layers, right to the heart and soul of him.

  Now, as she stood before the mirror, she saw the reflection of the woman who had been thoroughly loved. She saw it in her eyes, in her lips still swollen from the most incredible kisses she’d ever given or received, right down to two more love bites, one on each of the cheeks of her ass to match the one on her inner thigh. Normally love bites annoyed her. She let her fingers dance over them, remembering the height of passion when he’d given them to her. Her knees felt wobbly but amazingly, her body was primed and ready again.

  Abby knew she wasn’t through. This was a once in a lifetime night, and even if she couldn’t walk for three days, she wasn’t ready to end it.

  She turned and beckoned Brett to join her. He obliged by sliding his arms around her waist and nibbling the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “You are the most incredible lover, Ms. Abby Horton.”

  She pressed against him. “Me? You did all the work.”

  “If that’s work, where do I sign up for overtime?”

  Abby turned in his arms. “It’s not midnight yet.”

  “You’re insatiable.”

  “Is that a complaint?”

  He laughed out loud. “Not from me.”

  They both turned at the dull toll of heavy metal sounding from the great room.

  “Good lord, what is that?”

  “I’m sorry, baby. That’s Raoul with the carriage.”

  Brett helped Abby into her dress and took the comb from her. He gently organized the rusty curls she thought beyond control and captured them once again in the silver clip.

  “Good as new,” he announced at her reflection. “Now for your shoes.”

  “Do I wear them both? Or leave one so you’ll know where to find me?”

  He circled her waist again, tilted her chin and latched onto her gaze. “There isn’t a place you could hide that I wouldn’t find you. Not the deepest jungle, not in the valleys of the moon.” He placed her hand on his shoulder and then he knelt down, slid one slipper on and then the other. Both fully dressed, he said, “Take my hand. We don’t want to keep Raoul waiting.”

  *

  The motorized coach waited at the end of the drawbridge. Raoul stood at the door and helped Abby inside. Brett took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders before she sat down. A light mist
had begun to fall again.

  He slid onto the seat beside her. What looked like two white cake boxes, tied with lush black ribbons and bows, perched on the seat across from them.

  “What’s that?” she whispered.

  “Dinner.”

  “To go?”

  “Do you think we’re the only ones who’ve ever forgotten to eat at Whispers?”

  She shook her head. “They think of everything.”

  “We aim to please.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. “Did we succeed?”

  She sighed and leaned deep into the leather. “I don’t know who we is, but you certainly did, Mr. Kincade. Touchdown and a two-point conversion.”

  On the ride to the parking lot, Abby snuggled close to Brett. There were still several hours left before dawn. Would they spend the night at her place, or his? She mentally inventoried what she had left in the fridge and pantry. Enough to wow him in the morning with an omelet extraordinaire.

  She wondered if he cooked. He must if he lived alone. Or did he have a household staff that took care of cleaning and cooking? She couldn’t imagine the luxury of that, nor the other end of the spectrum, the lack of privacy.

  She kissed the sensitive spot beneath his ear. “My place or yours?”

  Beside her, Brett stiffened. She lifted her head and saw they’d reached the circular drive that led to the entrance to Whispers by the Sea. Her heart sank and the words stuck in her throat. Trin, the doorman, stood beside the open driver’s-side door of Brett’s Porsche, while Carlton waited at the open rear door of the limousine.

  “Well, I guess this is goodbye,” he began…or ended.

  Suddenly, he’d gone from her lover to a stranger, uncomfortable, obviously eager to move along. “I’m sorry, Abby. I should have said something sooner. I have…ah…an early day tomorrow.”

  Embarrassment warred with humiliation. Her stomach churned, and the memory of the sweet whipping cream curdled. I’ll just bet you do. Slam bam, thank you, ma’am. “It’s okay.” She forced a smile. “I have an early day too. Lots of deliveries, and then back to the shop to work on the Gala flowers.”

  Brett took a step back, although he still held her hand. “I’ll be in and out all day. You have my number.”

  She pulled her hand away from him. She had his number all right.

  “Then I guess I’ll see you Saturday—at the Gala.”

  She didn’t answer, just turned and quickly walked to the limousine. She was inside when Brett called out to her again, “Call me.”

  *

  I will not cry. I will not cry. Abby repeated the phrase over and over, grateful that Carlton had closed the privacy window separating them. If she did break down, he’d be spared her curses and wails.

  She loved Brett Kincade. She knew it the moment he walked into her life, and for a few hours tonight, she’d actually begun to believe he at least cared for her. Damn it. He had been so smooth, but why wouldn’t he after all those years of practice, all those gorgeous women at his beck and call in every NFL city across the country. Now that he’d retired, with likely more money than Ft. Knox, he probably had his pick of the entire female population of Seaside—hell, the entire state.

  Damn it, Abby, you are so stupid!

  What did she expect? She wasn’t one of the hopping harlots that decorated the sidelines at the games, she wasn’t an actress, or the star of a reality show, she wasn’t even a pole dancer, but heaven knew, she’d certainly acted like one. He’d snapped his fingers and she’d dropped her drawers—in the parking lot, and now tonight, when they’d done each other every which way they dared short of hanging from the ceiling. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

  Abby welcomed anger. It was so much easier than the pain of rejection.

  She’d known Brett what, twenty-four hours? He was gorgeous, generous, kind and an amazingly skilled lover. What more could any woman ask? He hadn’t made any promises and she hadn’t asked for any. He’d invited her to Whispers. She knew what that meant and she went willingly. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d foolishly leapt to the next level while he kept his feet on the ground.

  They’d danced, they’d eaten, they’d fucked. A good time was had by all.

  Then, damn it, why did her chin keep quivering, and even a dozen swallows didn’t force down the golf ball stuck in her throat.

  Shit!

  At Rose’s house, after Carlton parked in the drive, he insisted upon seeing Abby to her front door. “Mr. Kincade asked me to make sure you arrived safely. Would you like me to have a look around before I leave? Make sure everything inside is secure?”

  He’d looked away so quickly, she wondered if he’d seen the sadness in her smile. Made her wonder how many times he had played a part in this scenario before.

  “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

  The chill of the night had invaded the house, along with the darkness that matched the feelings in her heart. She stepped out of her shoes in the foyer and climbed the stairs without turning on a light. In her room, she pulled the dress over her head without unzipping it, dropped it in a heap and tossed her purse aside. Still wearing her necklace and earrings, she flopped down on the bed and closed her eyes. “I’ll laugh about this one day,” she said. “A day my heart isn’t hurting as much as it is now.”

  And with that, she rolled over, buried her face in her pillow and cried.

  Brring! Brring!

  Startled, Abby sat up. Was that the phone? She turned on the lamp on the nightstand. The time on the clock radio said one-thirty-five.

  Oh god, please don’t let this be bad news. Breathless, she answered, “Hello.”

  “Hi, baby.” That voice, as rich as fine mahogany purred back at her.

  She flopped back on the bed. “Brett?”

  She swore she heard the smile in his voice before she heard his words. “It’s not the Tooth Fairy.”

  “I’d already guessed that. No quarters under my pillow.”

  “How ‘bout you under me?”

  She sucked in a breath. No way he was getting away with that. “Aren’t you the one with an ‘early day’?”

  “Yep, the same stupid one.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, as if there were others within earshot. “I miss you already.”

  How did she answer? She hated men who played games. She’d thought he was different. “I miss you too—inside me.”

  This time, she heard his sharp intake of breath. “Geez, I need my head examined.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” She pushed her hair away from her face. “Didn’t you tell me the ‘Babe Mobile’ does zero to ninety in three seconds? If you mean it, put your money where your mouth is.”

  “I wish I could, Abby.”

  “What’s stopping you?” Or who?

  He exhaled a breath that sounded sharp and irritated. “I told you, I have an early morning.”

  “We all have choices, don’t we?”

  “I can’t, sweetheart, not tonight.”

  “I’m heading back to New York on Monday.”

  “Maybe.”

  “For sure.”

  His voice stayed serious. “Abby, there are no certainties in life. We’ll talk about Monday later.”

  “Maybe.”

  Over a thin laugh, he said, “Stop it. You have my numbers—my cell, office, my private line. Call me tomorrow when you have a chance.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Sleep tight, love. Dream of me.”

  Abby waited until Brett disconnected the line. Then she jammed the phone into its charger.

  Chapter Twelve

  The third time the snooze alarm buzzed, Abby forced her eyes open. She’d slept more soundly than she had in years. The snooze alarm buzzed again. She sat up, threw the covers aside and swung her legs off the edge of the bed. The fragrance of the massage oil Brett had used last night wafted up at her, the love bite on her thigh smiled at her.

  She regretted waking up alone, but she’d never regret the evening they’d shared.
What woman in her right mind would? How many yearned to be brought to orgasm even once during lovemaking? What an unforgettable gift Brett had given her.

  With a spring in her steps, Abby ducked in and out of the shower then dressed for the long, long day ahead. Because of her lack of design skills, she’d play delivery gal today, along with two or three other drivers Judy hired for holidays.

  This might be fun, she thought. She stepped into a pair of jeans and sneakers, and pulled on a brightly colored pullover. Love In Bloom’s logo, a bit like one of Mary Englebreit’s designs, struck Abby as whimsical, but it added the perfect touch to the matching windbreaker Judy had given her.

  Abby arrived at the shop promptly at eight to find everyone scurrying like a horde of mice.

  Judy rushed over, hugged her and stayed only long enough to say, “Before we finish up tonight, you’re going to share every detail of Whispers, right down to the last crumbs of dessert.” Then she rushed off to crack the whip in the studio.

  Abby took a few phone orders, ate a small container of yogurt, then walked back to the loading dock. Once Ronn shut the doors on her van, he walked over carrying a clipboard with a half-inch-thick sheaf of paper.

  “You ready to roll, sweet cakes?”

  The papers, she discovered, were maps and directions from one of the internet’s map sites. “Did you stay up all night printing these?”

  He fanned the bottom edge of the stack. “As long as you keep the pages in order, they’ll take you to your first delivery and lead you back to the shop after your last. Make sure you’re here no later than ten-forty-five. You have another run before lunch, and two this afternoon.”

  “Then what?” She hoped he’d say she was done for the day.

  “Your boyfriend’s flowers should be your last delivery this afternoon. No hanging around making goo-goo eyes at him. Judy has you down to work on the Gala flowers.” He sighed. “I suppose even you can do some of that.”

  “He’s not my ‘boyfriend’.”

  A smirk lit up Ronn’s face.

  “And I don’t make ‘goo-goo’ eyes at anyone.”