TarotCafeSeries_bundle

by Lynn LaFleur

  How could I have sex with two women and not remember it?

  P.J. assumed he’d had sex with them. There’d been empty condom packages on the floor next to the bed. Plus he’d been naked when he awoke. Pretty strong evidence that sex had been involved.

  He squirted liquid soap on a washcloth and began scrubbing his skin. Despite the condom packages, there was a chance he’d had unprotected sex. He’d always been very careful to use a condom. Fatherhood could be proven—or ruled out—with a DNA test. Diseases were another matter.

  As soon as he got back to L.A., he’d make an appointment with his doctor for tests. A clean bill of health would go a long way in making him feel better about last night. That meant no sex until he saw his doctor, which wouldn’t be a problem. After the fear he’d felt earlier today, he didn’t feel like having sex with anyone.

  Unless it could be her…the woman from The Tarot Café.

  Her image filled his mind every day, and every night in his dreams. He imagined gathering up all that honey-blonde hair in his hands while he kissed her. He loved long, unhurried kisses that went on and on. Her lips would be soft, silky, giving beneath his. She’d part her lips for the thrust of his tongue, then nip his tongue with her teeth.

  Kissing was something intimate, something special. Groupies didn’t get kissed, they got fucked. He spent just enough time with them to get off before sending them away. He hadn’t taken the time to truly savor a woman in…he couldn’t remember how long it’d been.

  He would savor Teanna.

  P.J. palmed his hardening cock in his soapy hand. He imagined tugging off her sweater to find a lacy bra cradling her breasts. Not white. That would be too plain for her. It would be ivory or pink or blue. He’d pull the straps down her arms until her breasts were free. Her areolas would be dark pink, her nipples hard and big as a pencil eraser. He’d caress them with his thumbs before opening his mouth over one to suckle. He’d move back and forth between her nipples, thumbing one while licking and sucking the other, until she came.

  Closing his eyes, P.J. leaned against the shower wall and pumped his rod. After he made Teanna come by sucking her nipples, he’d explore the rest of her body. He’d tug down her pants, exposing her legs a bit at a time. Once her pants were gone, he’d remove her panties. He wondered if she wore bikinis or thongs, or maybe the kind that looked like men’s boxers. Whatever she wore, he knew she’d look incredibly sexy in them…and even sexier out of them.

  Neatly trimmed blonde hair would cover her mound, but her lips would be bare. P.J. would part them with his thumbs to see her clit peeking out from beneath the hood. She’d be wet from her orgasm. He’d swipe her pussy with his tongue, dart it inside her channel. She’d taste delicious, a combination of sweet and salty and woman.

  “Damn.” P.J. stroked his cock faster. Teanna would moan and arch her hips. He’d lick her pussy over and over, up to her clit and down to her anus, letting her sweet juices roll over his tongue and down his throat. He wouldn’t stop until she came again. Then he’d enter her, moving slowly, letting her desire build once more. He could hear her soft voice begging him for more as she met every one of his thrusts.

  P.J.’s balls drew up tight to his body. Pleasure rushed up and down his spine. He gripped his cock and angled it so his cum shot down the drain.

  Weak and breathing heavily, P.J. stayed in the same spot until he was sure his legs would work. He quickly rinsed the soap from his body and turned off the water.

  Teanna stayed on his mind while he dressed and packed. He didn’t understand this sudden obsession with a woman he’d never met. He’d seen lots of women in restaurants, bars, stores…many even more beautiful and alluring than Teanna. None of them had stayed in his mind once they were out of his sight.

  P.J. had looked up Lanville and discovered it was about sixty miles from Dallas. The band had two concerts in Dallas in March. A visit to Caldwell Apothecary would definitely top his to-do list while he was in Texas.

  *

  Teanna shut the door and leaned against it. She sighed. She should’ve known the evening would be a disaster. She hadn’t had a date in the last year that hadn’t ended badly.

  Eligible men in Lanville were sparse. That meant going out with losers again or trying to meet men in other towns, like Dallas. Becca had set up Teanna with a friend of a friend of a friend. Ten minutes into the date, Teanna knew she’d made a mistake.

  She’d endured his endless chatter about himself and his net worth. He was quite well off, which he told her at least six times throughout dinner. Teanna had never let money be the measurement of whether or not she became involved with a man. With the trust fund she’d inherit in two years, she’d have more money than most of the men she’d met.

  No one but her and her aunt and uncle knew about her inheritance. If news of it got out, even more losers would show up at her door.

  She curled up in a corner of the couch and looked around the living room. Her aunt and uncle had added her apartment onto the back of their house for her twenty-fifth birthday. She had her privacy, yet remained close to the couple who had raised her after her parents died twenty years ago. Her apartment had a living room, bedroom and bathroom. She still used the kitchen and laundry room in the main house, but the apartment had everything else she needed. She’d decorated it in hues of brown and green with a splash of orange thrown in to make it cheery.

  Her perusal stopped at the private entrance that led outside to her carport. One of the nicest features of the apartment, it let her entertain friends without disturbing her aunt and uncle. It was also handy for a man to leave in the morning after he’d spent the night with her.

  A man hadn’t spent the night in months. With the way her dates had gone lately, she doubted if she’d have an overnight guest any time soon.

  She drew a throw pillow to her chest and wrapped her arms around it. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone weeks without sex, but it seemed so much bigger this time…ever since she’d seen him a week ago at The Tarot Café.

  Teanna blew out a breath. How stupid to keep fantasizing about a man she’d seen one time, but she couldn’t help it. She kept picturing him sitting by the huge fireplace. The short-sleeved T-shirt he wore let her admire his muscled arms. He obviously worked out to have arms like that. Add broad shoulders, wide chest, flat stomach and tight butt, and he equaled a woman’s fantasy man. She’d never cared for facial hair on a man, yet even his beard had been sexy.

  She wished she’d seen him one day earlier to give them time to meet and talk. Maybe she would’ve discovered in less than five minutes that he was as big a jerk as her date tonight.

  She didn’t believe that for a second. She knew, deep inside, that he would be as charming as he was handsome.

  Tossing the pillow aside, Teanna rose and walked to her bedroom. She flopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. His image immediately popped back into her mind. Something had passed between them when they’d looked at each other, something she’d never experienced with any other man. A lover’s touch hadn’t affected her as deeply as a look from him.

  She thought of him lying here beside her, their fingers entwined while they talked. They’d share little tidbits about each other, learn about their pasts, their families. Soon talking wouldn’t be enough and they’d have to touch…a caress on a cheek, a whisk of fingertips across a bare chest, a slow drag of fingernails down a stomach. He’d lean over her and kiss her lips, her neck, the top slope of her breast. He’d wrap his lips around her nipple and suck while his hand cradled her mound.

  Teanna slid her hand inside her slacks and panties. She moaned when she discovered she was already wet. She circled her clit with the tip of her finger, caressing it the way she imagined he would. He wouldn’t rush her orgasm, but keep kissing her, touching her, while it slowly built. He’d whisper words of encouragement, tell her he loved watching her come. His urging would push her over the top. The climax would rush through her body, leaving her weak and breathl
ess.

  “Oh, yes!”

  Teanna arched her hips off the bed and pushed two fingers inside her pussy. She could feel the walls contract around her fingers, squeezing them until the last wave of her orgasm faded.

  She lay still, her damp fingers resting on her stomach. Someday, her fantasies would come true. He’d lie here beside her, kiss her, touch her, the way she imagined every night before she fell asleep.

  She’d see him again. She didn’t know when, she didn’t know how, but she was certain it would happen.

  Chapter Three

  Malibu, California

  December 31

  P.J. checked his supplies one more time to be sure he had everything he wanted to take on the boat with him. He’d packed enough food to last a week. He might not be gone that long, but would rather have too much than not enough.

  The last ten days had been the best P.J. had experienced in a long time. He’d taken five days to get from San Francisco to Los Angeles, just driving and enjoying the scenery. When he got home, he made an appointment with his doctor. Although he still couldn’t remember what happened the night he was with those two girls, his doctor proclaimed he hadn’t picked up anything he didn’t want to have.

  He inhaled deeply of the crisp, early morning air and smiled. He couldn’t wait to get out on the water.

  He was about to cast off when his cell phone rang. Tugging the phone from his zippered sweatshirt pocket, he peered at the display. Rusty. Probably checking on him. He flipped open the phone. “Hey, bro. What’s up?”

  “Just checking on you.”

  P.J. chuckled. He knew his big brother so well.

  “I haven’t talked to you in a couple of days. You okay?”

  “I’m great. I’m getting the boat ready to go out.”

  “P.J., it’s New Year’s Eve. You don’t want to be alone on New Year’s Eve. I’ll pick up some steaks and champagne. I’ll even spring for the good stuff. We’ll have dinner and watch the fireworks on TV. How about it?”

  He hadn’t touched a drop of liquor since San Francisco. It would be nice to bring in the new year with a glass or two of champagne with his brother. But not tonight. “We can have a private party when I get back.”

  “When will that be?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. Three, four days.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going out on that tub for four days. When are you going to buy a new boat?“

  “Hey, don’t knock my boat. You’ll hurt her feelings.”

  “I went out with you a couple of months ago, remember? The gas smell was horrible. Are you sure it doesn’t have a leak?”

  “Rusty, stop worrying. I’m fine, my boat is fine, everything is fine except I should be fishing. I’ll call you when I get back.”

  P.J. shut the phone and slipped it back in his pocket. One more quick check of the rods and bait and he was ready to go.

  He turned the key in the ignition. P.J. heard the motor fire, then a loud explosion. He felt as if he were flying before he hit the water. After that, nothing.

  *

  Water lapped at P.J.’s prone body. It filled his nose and mouth, making him cough. He slowly lifted his head and blinked to try to bring everything back into focus. He lay between two pilings beneath a pier. The waves washed over him every few seconds. He shivered with every lap of cold water.

  He pushed himself up on his hands. Pain flashed through his head with the slow movement. He closed his eyes while the pain subsided. Opening his eyes again, he saw his boat seventy-five yards away, engulfed in fire. He’d lost his glasses so things were a bit fuzzy, but he could see flames shooting into the air.

  He moored his boat at a small private marina south of Malibu. All the other boat owners knew his boat. Someone would call the authorities as soon as they saw it on fire. The media would soon be on the heels of the officials, looking for a juicy tidbit for the tabloids or news programs.

  P.J. moved away from the piling. He was only a few feet from where Bud Elliott’s boat was moored. He and Bud often went fishing together and had developed a comfortable friendship. Bud had told P.J. he was welcome to use his larger, newer boat any time P.J. wanted to. Right now, he wanted to get out of the water so he could call for help.

  He knew Bud had left four days ago for Arizona on vacation with his family. He also knew where Bud hid the keys to his boat.

  Weakness and fatigue made it difficult for P.J. to climb up the ladder on the side of Bud’s boat. He dropped to the deck, too tired to move. Everything ached…his head, his chest, his legs. He wondered for a moment if he had a concussion. He touched his forehead and discovered a large knot, but no blood.

  Drawing on what little strength he had, he crawled to the spot where Bud hid the boat’s keys. P.J. unlocked the cabin door and slipped inside. It took him three tries to unzip the sweatshirt pocket where he kept his cell phone and shaded glasses. He wasn’t surprised to discover the phone no longer worked.

  He heard shouts and sirens in the distance. P.J. thought about opening the cabin door and waving to someone so they’d know he was alive. His eyelids grew heavy and his head throbbed. He’d tell someone he was here as soon as he rested a bit.

  He closed his eyes and slumped to the floor.

  *

  P.J. moved through the dark house. Even wearing his shaded glasses, his steps were sure since he’d walked this same path hundreds of times. He heard the eleven o’clock news on the television in the living room, blaring out the weather report of sunny skies and a chance of rain by Tuesday.

  He stopped in the living room doorway and peered into the room. The only light came from the TV screen. Rusty sat on the couch, his elbows propped on his knees, both hands holding his head. A half-empty bottle of Crown Royal and a glass of melting ice sat on the coffee table before him. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt that should’ve been tossed months ago.

  Unsure how to approach his brother so he wouldn’t be frightened, P.J. took a few steps into the room. Rusty jerked up his head, hands clenched into fists, ready to fight.

  P.J. gave him a small smile. “Hey, bro.”

  Rusty’s eyes widened. Even in the dim light from the television, P.J. saw all the color drain from his brother’s face. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. P.J. took another few steps closer. “You aren’t seeing a ghost. It’s really me.”

  “P.J.?” Rusty’s voice sounded hoarse. “You… How…”

  He bolted off the couch and grabbed P.J. in a fierce hug. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were dead.” He pulled back and scowled at P.J. “God damn it, where the fuck have you been the last three days?”

  “Hiding. I had to get—”

  “Hiding? I’ve been going crazy and you were hiding?”

  “I can explain—“

  “You’re damn right you’ll explain. Shit!” Rusty poured a shot of whiskey into his glass and downed it in one swallow. “Do you know half of L.A. has been looking for your body? The police, divers, Search and Rescue… Hell, I think even some forest rangers have been searching for you. Your disappearance has been on the news almost nonstop.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “How do you know?” Rusty poured himself another drink. “Where have you been?”

  P.J. gestured toward the bottle of Crown Royal. “Can I have some of that?”

  “You know where the glasses are,” he said before tossing back the whiskey.

  P.J. returned to the living room, glass in hand, to find Rusty punching in a number on his cell phone. “Who’re you calling?”

  “The police.”

  “No.” P.J. grabbed the phone out of Rusty’s hand and disconnected the call before it could go through. “I don’t want you to call the police. I don’t want anyone but you to know I’m alive.”

  “You don’t want… That doesn’t make sense! I’m supposed to let the press, your fans, the guys in the band, think you’re dead?”

  “Yeah.”

  “P.J., that’s insane! You can’t pr
etend to be dead. Why would you want to do something so stupid?”

  “Hear me out, okay?” P.J. poured two fingers into his glass and sat on the couch. After a few moments, Rusty sat down also. “I need some time alone to think about what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

  “You can have time alone without letting the world think you’re dead.”

  “No, I can’t. Not really.” He stared into the amber liquid while he swirled it in the glass. “This is the first alcohol I’ve touched in two weeks. For the first time in nine years, I’m completely clean and sober. If I admit I’m alive, if I get back with the band and start touring, the cycle will start all over again.” He looked at his brother. “Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost Parker James Kendall. P.J. Kendall totally took over my life. I’m almost thirty years old and I’m still running around the country with four other guys.”

  “So you’ll take an extended vacation—“

  “That won’t be enough, Rusty. Once I came back, everything would go right back to the way it was. I need more than that. There has to be something out there, something more fulfilling than strumming a guitar and fucking a different woman every night.”

  Rusty ran a hand over his face. P.J. noticed the tightness around Rusty’s eyes, the lines around his mouth. A heavy stubble covered his lower face, proof Rusty hadn’t shaved in days. These last three days must have been hell for him. He hated that. He never wanted to hurt his brother in any way.

  “What about the guys in the band?” Rusty asked. “You have to tell them the truth.”

  “I can’t.” He didn’t know what to say to make Rusty understand. “I don’t want to hurt them, but I can’t tell them the truth. They might swear they wouldn’t tell anyone, but one drink or joint too many and the truth would come tumbling out.”

  “So what are they supposed to do now that their leader has ‘died’?”