“I guess what I’m asking, Eli, is...am I safe with you? Can I trust you to want me enough? At least for this week?”
He nodded, his throat tight. “You’re safe with me, Shelby.”
He heard her sigh, felt the tension melt out of her body and she seated herself fully onto him, taking the whole of him deep into the heart of her. She was his water nymph. His goddess. His It Girl. He gritted his teeth as pleasure knifed through him, then gathered her close and kissed her deeply, with every bit of feeling he possessed.
Whether or not he was safe with her was another matter altogether.
* * *
MAVIS MERIWEATHER HAD lost her virginity at sixteen to a handsome college football player who would go on to become a state senator. That experience had lasted a grand total of three minutes—including the clumsy, slobbery foreplay—and had left her wondering why everyone was so mysteriously desperate to do it. It had been awkward, uncomfortable and messy.
While she would go on to take other lovers, some of them more talented than others—and a great deal of them famous—Mavis could count her bona fide, vaginal orgasms, brought about by an actual penis without any digital interference, on one hand.
Or at least she could—until yesterday.
When she’d made the impulsive decision to proposition Les, she’d never dreamed that he’d end up being the best lover of her life. That the unexpected confidence in his touch would enflame her more quickly than a hot flash. She’d never imagined that she’d sing the hallelujah chorus from his armchair while he lapped at her mythical g-spot with his tongue, or that she’d spend the rest of the evening sprawled naked on his Aubusson rug, drinking thirty-year-old scotch while he suckled her breasts in between the shaggings.
Rug burn, Mavis thought. At her age. She bloomed with pleasure.
Wasn’t it wonderful?
Honestly, when he’d deliberately rolled up his cuffs, then slid his hands beneath her dress, over her thighs, then gave her that little tug, she’d nearly had an immaculate orgasm right then.
There was something to be said about a man who didn’t hesitate, who acted, instead of reacting. It had been thrilling the way he’d taken control, hadn’t tried to pretty the business up with flowery words or insincere promises. It had been strictly about good sex, pleasure in exchange for pleasure. He’d wanted her—rather desperately, it seemed—and had made sure that she knew it, that she felt it.
There was nothing more gratifying for the ego than being desired and, considering she’d been feeling less and less desirable over the years—getting old was hell—Les’s reaction had been especially heartening. Making love was nice, but every once in a while a woman just wanted a good old-fashioned fucking, and that’s exactly what he’d given her.
Repeatedly.
In multiple, anatomical positions.
And with any luck, he was going to do it all over again tonight.
This arrangement could end up working well, Mavis thought, as she tidied a rack of clothing. Les was an interesting man whom the world had treated unkindly because of his condition and, while she hadn’t been unkind, she had to admit that the speech impediment had, initially, prevented her from taking a closer look at him.
Her mistake.
Les was interesting, well-read and good-looking,
and there was something especially attractive about the effort he put into communication. He had the most expressive face she’d ever seen and she could easily get more out of conversation with him, just by watching him, than any other man she’d ever met. He deliberately chose his words, because he had to, but that meant that he actually thought about them first. Another item on the pro list. And she suspected there were going to be many, many more.
* * *
WELL, WELL, WELL, Shelby thought, looking at the soft smile playing over Mavis’s lips when she and Dixie walked into the store. She set her purse
and sewing basket on the counter, then turned and grinned. “You look...remarkably relaxed.”
Mavis’s smile brightened and a soft blush rose beneath her cheeks. Shelby nearly did a double take. Mavis? Blushing?
“I take it Les accepted your proposition?”
She nodded. “He did.”
“And?” she prodded.
“And that’s all you need to know.”
Shelby blinked, her jaw dropping. “What? You mean after months of listening to you whine and complain about the sorry state of your sex life and the miserable pool of appropriate single men with any stamina in this town, you’re not going to dish? You’re not even going to tell me how it was? You? The reigning Queen of TMI?”
Mavis paused, seemed to consider. “All right. It was the best sex of my life,” she said. “If there was a Golden Penis Award, he’d win it, hands down, no question.”
Shelby bit the corner of her lip. “The Golden Penis Award,” she repeated, smothering a snicker. “Really?”
She had a candidate in mind for that, as well, Shelby thought, her belly fluttering at the thought.
“Really,” Mavis insisted. She gave Shelby a shrewd look, then a knowing smile tugged on her lips. “You look remarkably relaxed, as well,” she said, throwing the words back at her. “Dare I hope I wasn’t the only one getting an itch scratched last night?”
Shelby bit her lip, tried to squash an immediate, telling grin, but failed miserably. “I did,” she admitted. “But don’t tell anyone.”
Mavis frowned. “Why not?”
She hesitated. “Because I’m not sure where this is going, how we’re going to resolve things at the end of the week, and I don’t want to upset Carl and Sally.”
“You think Carl and Sally will mind? They’ve considered you a daughter for years. Your happiness is important to them, Shelby, and if you’ve found that with Eli, they’ll support you. I’m sure of it.”
“I know that it is, but I was engaged to their son and—” she lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug “—and Eli was his best friend. It’s possible that they’ll consider it a betrayal.” She released a breath. “And it’s not worth risking if, at the end of the week, we decide—or he decides—that there’s no future for us. I live here,” she said, gesturing around her store. “My life is here. And he’s a career soldier.”
“So was Micah,” Mavis replied.
“Yes, but his family is here and he’d always planned on coming home.” She grimaced. “Eli’s family history is vague,” she said, her brow creasing. “I know that his father passed away when he was little and, if his mother is still living, then they don’t have a good relationship. He’s always come here on leave and never mentioned visiting any other family.”
Which was odd, really, Shelby thought now. Strange that she’d never really thought about that before, but it wasn’t like he’d simply appeared, fully grown. She’d never heard him mention his parents at all, or bring up any childhood memories for that matter. The only reason she knew that his father was dead was because Sally had mentioned it once in passing, one of those “bless his heart” comments.
“So what do you want to happen at the end of the week?” Mavis asked, her eyes kind.
Shelby bit the inside of her cheek, felt her chest fill with emotion, warm and tingly. She hugged her arms around her middle and felt a wobbly smile tug at her lips. “I want him to go AWOL.”
Her gaze twinkling knowingly, Mavis grinned. “I figured as much.”
Honestly, she couldn’t think about the end of the week without a big lump of dread forming in her throat. She knew what she wanted—she wanted him. She had wanted him for what felt like forever, and last night...
Last night had been more than she could have ever hoped for, ever anticipated. Considering the level of physical attraction, the fact that they’d had blazingly phenomenal, knock-the-world-off-its-axis sex wasn’t a surprise. She would have been more surprised if they hadn’t.
But it had been so much more than that. She hadn’t just longed for his touch, she’d longed for him. She’d wan
ted him. Touching him, tasting him, feeling his big hard body plunging into hers...it had been bittersweet, a relief so profound that she’d felt tears prick the backs of her lids and her body melt with emotion. It was almost as if something inside of her recognized some counterpart in him and now that she’d found whatever that was, nothing else—no one else—would ever do.
And while she knew that Eli definitely wanted her and cared for her, she wasn’t altogether certain that his feelings for her would trump the duty he felt he owed to Micah’s memory. Last night had been a huge step forward, she knew. She’d been afraid to look at him this morning, terrified that, despite the fact that he’d assured her he wouldn’t have any regrets, she’d see the guilt and self-recrimination in his dear face, anyway.
Thankfully, she hadn’t.
She’d awakened to a magnificent wall of muscle at her back, his thigh slung over hers, his loosely curled hand over her breast. She’d known the instant he’d awakened because he’d stilled, seemingly surprised, then had leaned over and pressed his nose into her hair, breathing her in.
He’d been happy, and nothing could have thrilled her more.
Would things ultimately work out for them? Would Carl and Sally be okay with it if they did? Could they keep the memory of Micah without it casting a shadow on their relationship? Truthfully, she didn’t know.
She only knew this—he was hers until the end of the week and she had every intention of taking advantage of it.
“Oh,” Mavis said, frowning. “I forgot.” She picked up an envelope Shelby hadn’t noticed from the end of the counter and handed it to her. “This had been slipped beneath the door when I came down this morning.”
Shelby’s heart began to pound and a sickening dread rose in her gut. She didn’t have to read it to know what it was, could tell from the block lettering on the outside, addressed to her. Until now they’d been coming through the mail. But evidently whatever they’d wanted to say couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
“Shelby?” Mavis queried, concerned. “You’ve gone pale. What is it? What’s wrong?”
Shelby released a shaky breath and, hands trembling, opened the letter, revealing a fuzzy picture of her and Eli from last night. In the tub. Oh, God...
Traitorous whore. You’ll be sorry. I’m going to tell.
Shelby sucked in a breath, squeezed her eyes shut as nausea pushed up the back of her throat.
Having peered around her shoulder, Mavis gasped. “My God. Shelby, what is this? Who sent you this?”
“I don’t know,” she said. But whoever it was had clearly seen them and was hell-bent on ruining her.
11
“ELI WESTON THREATENED me last night,” Katrina announced from the doorway.
Debating the merit of sending Mavis a bouquet of flowers—old-fashioned, he knew, but he thought she’d appreciate them—Les smothered a sigh and looked up. “Oh?”
“I want to run the Micah Holland story,” she said, stepping in and closing the door behind her. A tremor of irritation surfaced. He hadn’t issued an invitation, but evidently she thought she didn’t need one. “I sent it to you last night. Did you read it?”
“No, I was busy.”
Her brows shot up. “Busy? Really?” Her lips twitched with condescension. “Playing Scrabble again, were you?”
Les couldn’t help the faint smile that pulled at his lips. “No.”
“Then what could have possibly been more important than reading my story?” she asked, feigning confusion. “Because I was under the impression—and thought you were, too,” she said, her voice hardening, “that what I want you to do supercedes anything that you want to do.”
Walking into that hotel room in Louisville and finding her there was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, Les thought, feeling his temper rise. Katrina was a cunning, ruthless bully with no discernible moral character. He loathed dangling over her barrel, but as of yet, he hadn’t figured out a way to maneuver himself off of it. Telling the world that she was a call girl wouldn’t ruin her reputation because she didn’t have one—or a good one, at any rate.
But telling the world that he paid for sex was another matter altogether.
He was a city councilman, and his reputation as an honorable businessman had been hard-won and had taken him years to establish. While other daily newspapers were going out of business all over the country, his still enjoyed a thriving print circulation. He’d limited online content, slashed advertising prices and, after much deliberation, added a gossip column.
He refused to run anything inflammatory—which was why Katrina had been determined to get her story the old-fashioned way—and vetted every article that went into each issue. Occasionally, he’d post blind riddles to the epublication, then bury the clues in the print edition, fostering cross-promotion between the two.
In short, he’d worked hard to build this life and having this opportunistic viper try to take it from him galled him to no end. He’d given her the job to keep her quiet and had secretly hoped that would be the end of it.
He should have known better.
“They’re dedicating the Memorial on Friday,” she said, smiling as if it were a foregone conclusion. “Let’s run it then, capitalize on all the hype.”
“I will not,” Les told her. “I would be hesitant to print it, even with authentication.”
Which he’d explained to her already. He wasn’t in the business of capitalizing on other people’s grief and didn’t intend to start now. Whether Micah had committed suicide, as Katrina suspected, or died from a misfired weapon, the fact remained that Carl and Sally had lost their son. Either that point was completely lost on Katrina, or she didn’t care. Intuition told him it was the latter.
Katrina’s nostrils flared and she planted her hands on either side of his desk. “You will,” she said. “Or you’ll regret it.” She smirked. “Or in your case, wegwet it.” Smiling triumphantly, she pushed away and coolly made her exit.
* * *
ELI KISSED SALLY ON THE cheek. “Thanks for dinner,” he told her. He feigned a wince. “I’m going to need to buy those jeans with the elastic in the waist if you don’t stop feeding me like this.”
Sally beamed at him. “You’re working hard. I’m just keeping you healthy.”
He wasn’t certain that fried chicken, black-eyed peas, mashed potatoes, green beans and banana pudding were exactly “healthy,” but they were damned good.
“You’ll be around for breakfast, right? I’m making a new casserole, with biscuits and sausage gravy.”
In other words, fat with a side of fat, Eli thought, his lips twitching. He’d be willing to bet the casserole was full of cheese, too. He nodded. “I’ll be here.”
“Why don’t you stop by and pick up Shelby? She’s always been a fan of my biscuits.”
If Shelby hadn’t asked him so innocently, he probably wouldn’t have thought much about her request, but it was almost...rehearsed? “I’ll give her a call and see if she’d like a ride,” he said, feeling an odd frown inch over his brow.
“Excellent!” she enthused.
A thought struck and he jerked a finger toward the stairs. “Mind if I pop upstairs and say hi to Colin before I go?” he asked.
Colin hadn’t made it to the square today, though he’d assured Eli that he’d be joining them again. He’d missed dinner, as well. While Eli knew that most teenagers were typically moody, Colin’s erratic behavior seemed almost schizophrenic. One minute, he’d be laughing and cutting up, making jokes with everyone. The next, scowling and sullen, pissed at the world.
Sally nodded, her eyes softening with gratitude. “Sure,” she said. “I heard him come in late last night, but he hasn’t been down for a meal and when GG asked him about going to the square, he’d said he didn’t feel like it.” She paused uncertainly. “I don’t want to make him go, but I wonder if we’re doing him any favors by giving him a pass.”
Eli wished he knew. Giving her another squeeze, he mounted the steps t
o the second floor. Micah’s room was straight ahead, the door closed, and the sight of it made Eli flinch, knowing that he’d never sleep there again.
Colin’s room was at the opposite end of the hall and his door was shut, as well. It was eerie.
Eli approached it and knocked softly. “Colin?” He could hear the faint sound of music—more Floggy Molly by the sound of it—but nothing else. He waited a minute, before trying again, a little louder in the event that Colin had his earbuds in. He’d just decided to try the door when it abruptly opened.
“What?” the boy demanded, glaring up at him.
Slightly taken aback—Colin had been reserved with him at times since Eli had arrived, but never openly rude—Eli stared down at him. “I just wanted to see why you didn’t come to the square today. You’d told me you’d be there,” he reminded him.
Colin lifted his chin. “I didn’t feel like it.”
Right, Eli thought, feeling his jaw tighten. Carl and Sally might be at a loss on how much rope to give him, but Eli wasn’t opposed to jerking a knot in his ass. Yes, he was a boy. Yes, he was hurting. Guess what? Life could be painful.
“Man lesson number one,” Eli told him. “Do what you say you’re going to do.”
Colin blinked, evidently surprised at Eli’s reaction, then his expression blackened with derision. “I didn’t ask you for man lessons. I’ve got a dad for that.”
“And you’re damned lucky that you do,” Eli said, unable to hide the edge in his voice. “So how about showing up tomorrow and helping him out? Or are you going to continue to let everyone else do it? Let everyone else build the memorial to your brother?” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s your call, chief, but you’re the one who’s going to have to live with it.” He nodded once. “Think about it.”
Colin’s eyes narrowed and his face screwed up in anger. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t have to—”
“Man up, Colin,” he said, shooting him a firm look. “It’s time.”
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