A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology

by Barbara Devlin

  The wind shifted direction and blew in their faces. Olivia tilted her head down, allowing the hood to take the brunt of the weather. With no hat, Emerson had to be frozen. When she spied a building with the door cracked, she pulled Emerson toward it. “I have to get a little warm. I can’t feel my toes.”

  He rushed ahead and pushed open the door. “I was worried about that.”

  “It’s not right for it to be so cold.” She stepped inside and shook the snow off the bottom half of her body. Emerson followed her, removed his gloves, and covered his beet-colored ears with his hands.

  Emerson shook his head. “We’re halfway there.” Then he blew into his palms and covered his red nose.

  “That’s all?” They huddled in an entryway for an apartment building. It wasn’t warm, but it offered relief from the wind and snow. She flicked ice from between her toes with a gloved finger.

  He nodded. “Olivia, you can’t keep walking through this mess in those shoes.” He frowned.

  “So what do you propose I do?” She wiped the frozen water from her calves.

  “I’ll carry you.”

  “What?” The guy was a knight in spectacular armor, and all they’d suffered was a diverted flight.

  “You’ll have to carry your tote and my laptop on your back, and then I’ll carry you.”

  He was quite serious and still used the commander tone, so she hadn’t dared say otherwise, but she made a motion to stomp. She slid a bit on the wet tile and decided against the action.

  “Do you have a better idea?” He arched a brow and shifted his weight.

  She looked outside at the blanket of white and shook her head. “No.”

  “Then I’m carrying you the rest of the way.” Emerson sighed. He opened his suitcase and took out sweatpants and pair of tube socks. “Put these on, for now, to keep you warm.”

  “OK.” Olivia was too cold, and too touched, to argue with him. The least she could do was buy him dinner that night. Since she could barely feel her toes, she really wanted those socks, although in any other circumstance she wouldn’t have been caught dead in tube socks. “Thank you.”

  “Is the feeling coming back?” He seemed so concerned for her welfare.

  “Not really.” She sat on his suitcase and wrestled to get her frozen sandals off her feet. “Oh, my Jimmy Choos are never going to be the same.” She’d just bought the shoes for the funeral after forgetting hers at home. The cost of the trip had seriously escalated. She was not looking forward to receiving her January VISA bill.

  “You can buy new ones.”

  “True, but I really liked these.” She shook the remaining snow and ice off them and tossed them into her tote, hopeful she might be able to salvage them.

  He sighed. “I did, too.”

  She smirked inside at his admission, stood, shimmied into the sweat pants, and tightened the drawstring as much as she could. The waist gaped so she folded it over on itself. The pants were still at least six inches too long, but they were comfy. Blessedly, warm and dry.

  She bent to raise the cuffs and banged heads with Emerson, who apparently had the same idea. “Ouch!” they said in unison.

  When she lifted her chin, they came face to face and locked gazes. Her heart raced. Damn his eyes were blue. And intense. And deep.

  He laughed, breaking the silence and the moment. “Sorry.”

  “It’s OK.” She mentally shoved aside the connection she’d felt with him and put on the socks, with care not to step in the melted snow on the floor.

  “Ready?” He squatted.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be for an adult piggyback ride.” She hoisted a bag over each shoulder, adjusted the load so it was even, and then crawled onto his back. He impressed her, when he stood with ease, as though her weight and that of the luggage was no extra burden.

  He chuckled and kicked the door open with one foot and headed into the storm.

  Olivia just resisted the urge to say, “Giddy-up.”

  Carried through the snow by a British gentleman was a bit like having her white knight and his matching horse all wrapped in one package. She gripped her arms and legs around him a little tighter and settled in for the ride.

  * * *

  For the first time in his life, Emerson sympathized with pack mules and wished he were more like them, as four legs would stabilize the lady and the gear much easier.

  Sleet pummeled him, and every gust of wind threatened to relocate he and Olivia to destinations unknown. The rocky sidewalk, hidden under the snowy accumulation, presented added challenges to transporting his precious cargo. He never knew when he’d step on a crooked stone or a patch of ice.

  Driven by an acute desire to sit by a large fireplace, Scotch in hand, and robe askew, he envisioned himself waiting for Olivia to join him for another bout of lovemaking. He shouldn’t have let his mind run amuck, photoshopping her into his nighttime activities in England, but desperate circumstances called for desperate measures. Carrying a beautiful woman through a blizzard in sub-zero conditions definitely qualified as a desperate circumstance. And the truth was he lacked the energy to edit himself.

  As he forged ahead, his decision to forgo packing a cap for the trip mocked him. His ears hurt, and the frigid temperatures froze the beaded sweat on his scalp. Snow collected on the bridge of his nose, since he couldn’t risk letting go of Olivia to wipe it away.

  He finally rounded the corner and Olivia encouraged him. “Yay! I can see the hotel. We are almost there.” She dug her heels into him as though he were a horse urged into a gallop. If he could, he would’ve gladly picked up his pace.

  He had almost reached the front entrance to the hotel, when a gale force wind whipped from the harbor, knocking him off balance. To avoid falling backwards and crushing Olivia, he leaned forward. Unfortunately, that shifted her weight and that of the luggage, also.

  “Buggar!” He stumbled and struggled to regain his footing, but he had trouble rebalancing everything, and he worried they might fall. “Hold on.”

  “Ayy.” She wrenched his neck and almost choked him. “Oh, no!”

  “Bloody hell.” To his chagrin, Emerson lost the battle and surrendered to gravity. Olivia held on and landed squarely on top of him, as he face-planted into a giant snowdrift.

  She scurried to get off him. “Are you OK?”

  He lifted his head and drew a huge breath, and then wished he hadn’t, as his lungs stung from the bitter cold. “Yes.”

  “Good.” She dug snow out from around his head.

  He flipped and propped himself on an elbow. Olivia stood over him. Through the blizzard, the light coming from the overhang of the hotel valet cast a soft glow, and her face sparkled with ice fragments and her eyelashes were stuck together. Her nose looked like Rudolph and her lips matched. Before long, they’d suffer terrible cases of frostbite.

  She held out a hand to help him, and he gripped her wrist. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded. He pushed from the ground and pulled on her arm simultaneously, and she tumbled on top of him. Her lips pressed to his earlobe. If the rest of him weren’t completely frozen, he’d have opted to stay right there and savor the warmth of her breath against his skin.

  She seemed suspended, as well. He counted to two. Then in unison they tossed and turned in the snow, untangling from each another and eventually standing.

  Emerson brushed the snow off his jacket and jeans. “Let’s get inside.”

  “Yes, please.” Olivia’s teeth chattered.

  The loud rumble of a truck caught his attention. Emerson turned as a snow plow cleared the road they had just walked down. He sighed. Oh, the irony.

  “Now they plow the street,” Olivia said sarcastically, vocalizing what he thought.

  She shook snowflakes out of her hood and padded in front of him, through the sliding doors to the Hyatt lobby. She was a sight to behold--soaking wet tube socks, ice-caked way-too-big sweat pants, with part of a black dress hanging out from under what appeared to be a gi
ant white frosted donut with a fur hood on it. Her blonde hair was in strings and stuck to her neck. Her cheeks were red and damp. Somehow she still looked sexy.

  She stepped to the counter. “Olivia DuBois.”

  “Ms. DuBois.” The young clerk behind the desk furrowed his brow. “Are you aware that your reservation is at the Hyatt Regency Boston, across the river?”

  “No.” Olivia groaned. “Can you transfer it here?”

  “We would be happy to do that for you ma’am, but we are sold out tonight.” The clerk narrowed his eyes as he surveyed her attire.

  She groaned again and draped herself over the edge of the check-in counter. “How can this be happening to me?”

  As much as he wanted to help her, Emerson remained in line. He had only booked a standard King room and did not trust himself to share close quarters with her. Actually he’d like nothing more than to share a bed with her, but not for sleeping.

  “Is there anything you can do?” She raked her fingers through her hair, and he envisioned her long tresses draped across a pillow. “Is there another hotel close to here?”

  “I’m very sorry.” The clerk shook his head. “We have called for other customers. The hotels in this area are booked. It’s Christmas, and flights have been cancelled, due to the weather. All the hotels are filled with displaced passengers.”

  Emerson hoped she wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t handle that. Maybe he should offer to give her his room.

  “Can I just stay in the lobby?” Her shoulders slumped. “As soon as the airport re-opens, I’m flying out.”

  “Sure.” The clerk dipped his chin. “In fact, I suggest you do. The weather is terrible, and the roads are pretty much closed. If we get any cancellations, you’ll be first on the list for a room.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.” She turned and made a face at Emerson, as she walked past him to the couches.

  He stepped to the desk. “Reservation for Gascoigne-Lake.”

  The clerk typed on his keyboard, pursed his lips, and typed some more. “Yes. Mr. Gascoigne-Lake, because of tonight’s situation, we do not have any standard King rooms available. However, because of your status as a Hyatt Gold Passport member, we have upgraded you to a Business Plan room.”

  “King bed?”

  “Uh, no.” The clerk read the computer screen. “Looks like this accommodation has two double beds. Is that going to be a problem, sir?”

  “No.” Emerson handed the young man his credit card and grinned. Apparently, fate wanted him to help the beautiful sad smile girl again. “It’s perfect.”

  Chapter 4

  Twenty-four texts. Olivia’s heart raced, and she moaned. Please do not let it be a client crisis two days before Christmas. She clicked the Messages icon. They were all from Travis. She smiled, excited to hear from him. She scrolled to the top one.

  Travis: Sorry sweetie, guess there’s nothing you can do.

  She was grateful he understood that time, after he’d been furious and insensitive regarding her delay earlier in the week.

  Travis: I checked the weather. Seems like you won’t be making it here for Christmas.

  She frowned and reminded herself to Google the weather report.

  Travis: You’ll be happy to know I’m not alone. Four girls from San Diego have adopted me.

  No, no, happy could not describe how she felt about that.

  The next text featured a photo of Travis, wearing the swim trunks she’d bought for him and one of the widest grins she’d ever seen him sport. He had his arms wrapped behind four attractive blondes, two on either side of him, and eight ginormous boobs sat in a row. The little tramps held large cocktails with pineapple wedges in them and wore super small triangle bikinis that strained against the weight of their ample chests. Great. Travis’s favorite body type times four.

  She scanned the rest of the messages. They described how all five of them had gone scuba diving, and tomorrow they were going parasailing. Her heart sank. She and Travis had planned to do those activities together.

  She’d read and seen enough. She tapped her fingers on the screen to type a response. She shared one sentence of her ordeal then stopped. He hadn’t cared. He hadn’t asked her how she fared, yet he was quick to share that he was fabulous without her. Not only had he said it, he’d sent a flipping photo.

  What girlfriend wanted a photo of her boyfriend in Hawaii with four hot, overly endowed women? Zero. None. There hadn’t been a single woman in the history of the world that had appreciated a picture like that. Ever.

  Olivia glanced at Emerson, who remained at the check-in counter. Though she hadn’t known him for very long, she knew without doubt he wasn’t the kind of man who would send bouncing booby photos to his girlfriend. He was the kind of man who carried a stranger through the snow. That’s the kind of man she wanted.

  Of course, he lived about as far across the globe from her as possible. She shrugged, as all the good ones weren’t taken; they just lived in foreign countries.

  She sighed and realized she sat in a puddle. The caked-on snow and ice had melted, and now she was wet. She peeled off the soaked tube socks and sweatpants. Though the lobby’s heat was on high, she shivered when the air kissed her damp legs.

  Her phone pinged, announcing a new text. She glanced down to view a photo of Travis, lying in the sand with a wedge of lime in his mouth, salt on his chest, and one of the blonde bimbos kneeling beside him holding a Tequila bottle. The caption: Doing a body shot.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Asshole!”

  “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

  Olivia tilted her chin to look at Emerson. “No, not at all. I got a text from--” She turned over her phone. “It doesn’t matter. Did you get a room?”

  “Yes, I did.” He shifted his weight. “And it has two double beds.” He raised his eyebrows and gazed intently at her.

  Was he suggesting they share a room? A part of her hoped yes. She’d love to take a hot shower and get some sleep, and she wasn’t ready to part with her ally. But then she second-guessed herself because it wasn’t a smart idea to share a hotel room with a man she hadn’t really known for more than a few hours. But how well had she really known anyone? A week ago she had thought Travis was only into her, but now he was running around with four other women.

  She hadn’t wanted to assume Emerson extended an invitation, so she opted for a neutral reply. “That’s great.”

  He pursed his lips and narrowed his stare. “I know this may seem a bit forward, and this is not indicative of my usual behavior, but desperate circumstances require desperate measures, and I assure you that I’m an upstanding gentleman whose only intent is to assist a woman in need. And you would be doing me a great favor, as I cannot enjoy my accommodations if I do not at least offer to share the room with you.” He inhaled deeply. “If you would like. And I am in no way suggesting you are a desperate woman.”

  So there it was, out in the open. He had invited her to share his room. Olivia smiled and squirmed. “I…you’ve…it.” She huffed, frustrated by her newfound inability to complete a simple sentence.

  “It’s a friendly gesture.” He splayed his palms. “I promise, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t concerned about that.” She squeezed her fists and willed herself to get it together. She sucked in a breath. “I accept, but you must allow me to treat you to dinner this evening, and I’m happy to pay for half the room, as well.”

  “Nonsense.” Emerson’s hands went to his hips.

  “I insist.” Olivia stood, straightened fully upright, and stared him square in the eye, drawing on her aggressive side normally reserved for certain work with her media contacts. “It’s the only way I’ll agree.”

  He smirked. “Very well.” He handed her a key and hoisted her tote onto his shoulder.

  She resisted the urge to snap a photo to send to Travis. Caption: Heading to hotel room with real man.

  * * *

  Stomach growls t
ook precedence over chilled bodies, and Emerson and Olivia dropped their luggage in the room and consumed a very late dinner and several drinks at the Harborside Grill Lounge.

  “I am so full.” Olivia held her belly as she exited the lift on their floor. She teetered, and Emerson steadied her.

  He chuckled. “I would hope so. Sam Adams cheddar and broccoli soup, a salad, bread, and that veggie plate ragu thing you obliterated.” He loved that she ate with such abandon. Camille had counted every calorie, and it got on his last nerve.

  “And don’t forget the three glasses of wine.” She twirled, grinned, and then traced the crest of his nose with the tip of her finger. “I never drink three glasses.” She held up a trio of corresponding digits, as if to emphasis the point. “And I did two times today.”

  “OK, lush, let’s get you into the shower and then to bed.” Emerson laughed, enchanted by her sparkling eyes. “It’s been a long day.”

  She leaned into him as he slid the card key into the door. Her warm body against his stirred his willy in a way he had hoped to avoid tonight. It was so much easier to behave when he wasn’t aroused. “You know, I don’t have anything to wear but this dress.”

  “I can loan you something.” He pushed the door open and ushered her into the room.

  “Naw, I want to sleep nude.” She traced the wall with her fingers as she sauntered toward the beds.

  A flash of her naked danced in his mind. That was the final encouragement his cock needed to stand at full attention. He was grateful that in her tipsy state Olivia focused on her balance and not his protruding pant leg.

  She turned and looked through locks of her hair at him and smirked mischievously.

  He shifted his weight. He should have cut her off at two drinks. “I will loan you something.”

  She giggled and hiccupped. “You are such a nice man.”

  A nice man who wanted to rip that black dress off her, splay her on the bed, and shag her silly. Yes, a very nice man. “Thank you.” He pointed to the bathroom. “You. Shower.”