A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology

by Barbara Devlin

  He promised, though there was a slight problem with that oath. He hadn’t told Olivia he planned to marry her, so he’d have to keep the two women apart until he was prepared to reveal that particular fact. He’d known his mum long enough to realize she was the woman to give information if he wanted it spread all over town, but not if he wanted it kept secret.

  Emerson sipped his coffee as he walked back to the room and wondered if Olivia was awake. He’d called his mum, printed their boarding passes in the business center, and arranged for a late check out with the hotel, since their flight that evening was a red-eye. Now that he’d completed his morning tasks, he wanted to give Olivia her Christmas presents and enjoy their final hours stranded together before their regular lives intervened.

  He entered quietly, in case she was still asleep, but found her on the bed surrounded by shiny paper and a colorful bow, reading what looked like an old scrapbook. “Merry Christmas!”

  She met his gaze, eyes sparkling, “Merry Christmas!”

  “Did Santa visit, and I didn’t know about it?” He gestured to the items on the bed.

  She laughed. “No, it’s from my mom. I forgot she’d given it to me when I left New York.”

  “What is it?” He gathered the wrapping and threw it away.

  “A family heirloom. Stories of my ancestors.” She carefully folded the book in the fabric, placed it in a wooden box, and set it in her suitcase.

  “What a very special gift.” He sat down on the bed. “My mum gave me knickers.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head sideways causing a lock of hair to drift over her cheek. “What color?”

  “Aren’t you the naughty minx?” He grinned. “Maybe I got knickers. I won’t know until I get back to London.” He pushed the stray hair behind her ear then picked up the menu. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes!” She bounced next to him on bed and chose her items. Her close proximity made his willy stir. In silence, he told it they would be having fun soon, but to behave for now.

  He placed their order then disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door open. He began filling the bathtub.

  “What are you doing in here?” He sensed her in the doorway.

  “Preparing one of your Christmas gifts.” Emerson was on his knees next to the tub swirling bubble bath into the water. He’d snagged a few extra bottles from the maid’s cart on his way down the hall.

  “Not that I’m complaining, but a bath wasn’t one of your gifts to me.” Her voice oozed with appreciation.

  “Addition to the plans.” He stood and offered his hand.

  She smiled and took it.

  Once she was within arms reach, he let go of her and pulled her satin camisole over her head in one smooth movement. Her tossed her matching tap panties on the floor in much the same way. He paused a moment to take in all of her loveliness. Yes, he definitely preferred her naked.

  She stuck out a hip and pouted her lips. “What about you?”

  He picked her up and sat her in the tub. She squealed, sounding like a child going down a water slide at an amusement park. Once in the tub, she gathered some of the mound of bubbles and pulled them around her.

  Emerson slid his shirt over his head and tugged off his jeans, but left his boxers on. Every part of him wanted to hop in the tub with her, so he could be her personal slip and slide, but the first part of today was about pampering her. He had to muster enough self-control to give her a bath and a massage and then he could shag her silly.

  “How’s the water?” He screwed the knob to off.

  “Perfect.” She giggled and blew some bubbles at him. A blob landed on his shoulder.

  He snatched a washcloth from the rod and dipped it into the water. “You are a very dirty lassie. I’m going to need to clean you everywhere.”

  Olivia squirmed but smirked. “Everywhere?”

  “Yes, everywhere.” He started the washcloth at her immerged ankle and slowly worked his way up her calf, over her knee, up her thigh.

  “You are killing me here.” She draped her arm over his shoulder and scraped her nails lightly over his skin. That action sent ‘take her now’ signals to his brain. He ignored them.

  “No, this would be killing you.” He dropped the washcloth and slipped a finger into her.

  She gasped and arched into his hand.

  He pulled out of her.

  “No, don’t stop.” Her eyes widened.

  He grinned broadly and resumed washing her. That time he started with the opposite ankle.

  She bit his neck. Between the nails, her warmth around him for a brief moment, and the bite, his discipline was running out quickly. He hadn’t expected her to beg for him to make love to her, at least, not until the massage.

  “You’re still dirty.” That time when he reached her pussy, he swept the cloth over it. She moaned. He kept going, teasing her with a good belly scrub.

  She pushed her chest out from beneath the bubbles. “These are filthy.”

  Erect nipples heightened the temptation meter. He used the cloth to cover them from view, as he massaged her through the wet fabric.

  She made those suckling noises that drove him crazy, so he kissed her to make them stop.

  That was a mistake. His lips on hers gave his crotch full permission to grow. And Olivia permission to launch a full blown assault on him. She kissed him back, her tongue swirling with his as she raked her hands through his hair.

  “I want you.” She dug her nails into his back to punctuate her desire.

  Why was he fighting it? That wasn’t a battle he was going to win. He’d give her a massage after sex.

  He lifted her from the tub. Her slippery legs struggled at first but finally wrapped around him. He leaned her against the bathroom wall and entered her hard.

  “Yes,” she moaned into this mouth. Her heels dug into his buttocks, and she used them to push back against each thrust.

  “God, I love you, Olivia.” He smashed his chest against hers.

  She panted, “I love you, Emerson.”

  He exploded the same moment his name rolled off her tongue, and she followed right behind him. They sunk to the floor, completely happy.

  * * *

  Room service had perfect timing. It had arrived exactly the instant after Olivia and Emerson had pulled themselves together and donned robes. They dove into their meals having worked up an appetite.

  Olivia knew Emerson had wanted to wash all of her, but anytime she was near him, and especially near him and naked, he had to be in her, and she would stop at nothing to make sure that happened. Thankfully, she hadn’t had to do much before he complied.

  As she shoveled in French fries, she remembered she wanted to learn how Emerson was connected to her dream.

  “Can I ask you a question?” She popped another fry into her mouth.

  “Of course, anything.” Emerson took a bite of his chicken sandwich. A piece of tomato fell onto his plate, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.

  “Do you own a boat?” As she asked the first question, she realized that she knew very little about his life in England. She made a mental note to ask him more normal questions on the flight to Los Angeles.

  “No, but I’d like to someday. A yacht that I could sail down to the Mediterranean.” She imaged them on a yacht together admiring the homes built into the hills of Greece and smiled.

  “That sounds nice.” But a luxury yacht was nothing like the rickety old ship in her dream. “How about a ship?”

  “Do I own a ship? Nope.” His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  She ignored his question. “Have you been on a ship?” She used her fork to mix the remaining lettuce and vegetables with the dressing.

  “Well, sure, I’ve gone on cruises.” He shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

  “Was there a bad storm on any of them when you went?” She took a bite of her lunch.

  “No. Smooth sailing, well, technically smooth cruising.” He dipped a fry into ketchup.

 
; “What about history? Were you a history major?” She polished off the last of her fries and took a sip of iced tea.

  “No, business.” He licked the salt off his fingers. A simple act that sent shivers through her.

  She refocused on the task at hand. “Are you reading a book about pirates, ships, or storms?”

  “No.” He gave her a quizzical look. “I’m reading about global economics.”

  She sighed. Seemed she was hitting complete dead ends. “Have you ever been a pirate for Halloween?” She forked the last of her salad into her mouth. She started to feel like she was grasping for anything that would link him and the message from the brooch, because she hadn’t wanted to consider that he wasn’t the one for her.

  “Sure. When I was a lad.”

  Her heart leapt. There it was. The connection she had been searching for. He was the pirate on the ship.

  Then he added, “I think every little boy is a pirate for Halloween at least once.” Emerson put both of their empty plates on the tray and rejoined her on the bed.

  She nodded and frowned. If every little boy was a pirate, then that probably wasn’t a strong enough tie.

  He reached over and poked her in the side. “Hey, no long face. I was a cute pirate. Want me to dress up as one and come pillage you?”

  She giggled. The image that jumped into her mind was of Emerson--Jack Sparrow style. It was kinda hot. “Maybe.”

  “I’m going to take all of your booty.” He leapt to his knees in front of her, flipped her over, pulled up her robe and squeezed her ass.

  She laughed. “My booty is your booty.” She shrugged out of the covering ready for him to take her. She began to spread her legs, but he stopped her.

  “It’s massage time.” He stood.

  “And I know right where I want you to massage me and with what.” She took the opportunity of his absence to widen the distance between her legs and lift her ass in the air.

  “Very funny.” He pulled the drapes closed, not succumbing to her seduction this time. “Do you have any oil in that flowery bag of yours?”

  “Actually yes.” Travis liked for her to massage him, so she’d packed the oil with the eucalyptus in it for Hawaii. She got up and retrieved it for Emerson, excited that it would be used on her.

  “On your belly, girlfriend.” He playfully slapped her ass and she obeyed sliding down onto the blanket. She smiled at the use of her nickname, too.

  As he caressed her skin, working the tension out of every muscle, she considered the brooch and the dreams. A piece of jewelry with the power to foretell the future was pretty out there, but she couldn’t refute her ancestor’s stories. There must be a link to Emerson and the dreams that she’d missed. Think Olivia, what else might connect him to the ship?

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Emerson’s massage went right to the place she’d originally had in mind.

  Chapter 9

  Before encountering Olivia at the airport in New York, all Emerson had wanted was to arrive in Los Angeles, get his business done and return to the UK. Settled into the plush First Class seat with his beautiful girlfriend by his side, it was the last thing he wanted.

  As the plane took off, he couldn’t help but feel like they were blasting into the unknown. He knew how much work consumed him—not just his time, but his mental real estate—and with things as tenuous as they were, all those were amplified.

  Though they hadn’t discussed her business much, he could tell that Olivia’s work could be equally demanding. Between those two factors, the distance, and the time change, he prayed the bond they’d formed during their snowbound holiday in Boston was strong enough.

  Olivia entwined her fingers with his and gave him a sweet smile. He squeezed her hand and melted into his seat a little deeper.

  “So, are you excited to be heading back to Los Angeles?” He drank in her profile of petite features that screamed femininity.

  “Not really.” She shrugged.

  Her answer surprised him. “Why not?” He leaned closer to her, so he could catch her scent.

  “I don’t know.” She pursed her lips. “Everything’s different now.”

  “How so?” With his thumb, he traced the end of her forefinger.

  “It’s hard to explain.” She squirmed. “I feel different.”

  “Well, the death of a loved one can cause us to see our life from another perspective.” He caressed her middle finger.

  “That might be part of it, but I think it’s more you.” She playfully tapped the end of his nose.

  “Me?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes, you.” She grinned. “You were a totally unexpected, completely wonderful surprise. I know it sounds silly and like I’m some googly-eyed teenager, but I just want to be with you.”

  “And I with you.” He kissed her cheek.

  She turned to face him. “No, I mean, be with you as in run away from my life in LA, my business, my Hollywood clients.”

  His heart leapt. “You want to come be with me in England? I’d love that.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’d run away, too.” She gestured out the window. “We’d go to, I don’t know, Africa or Brazil or Australia, and we could live in a little hut and make love all day.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, now you are sounding a bit silly.”

  She thumped back. “Told you I was.”

  He touched her wrist. “I love you, my silly girlfriend.”

  She smirked. “I love you too.” The lights dimmed in the cabin of the plane. “I guess we should get some sleep. You have meetings all day tomorrow.”

  “Yes.” He leaned over and embraced her for longer than a goodnight kiss warranted, but she didn’t seem to mind, then he returned to his seat and closed his eyes.

  It seemed he’d only been asleep a moment, when Olivia tugged on his sleeve. “Emerson. Emerson.”

  “Yes, love.” He blinked. The cabin was still dark. A glance at his watch told him it was the middle of the night and the middle of the flight.

  “I need to talk to you.” He sighed internally. That was one sentence he had not enjoyed out of any woman’s mouth.

  “What’s up?” He adjusted himself so he could look at her as she spoke.

  “I’ve been having dreams.” She put her head on his shoulder. “Well, really, just one dream, over and over.”

  “OK.” He wondered where she was going. He threw his arm around her.

  “I’m on a ship, an old one, and there’s a storm, and there’s a pirate with me on the ship, but I can’t see who he is, just his outline.” Olivia tucked her feet under her.

  He squeezed her. “Does the dream scare you?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not a nightmare. Even though I’m freezing, and it’s hard to hold on because the boat is rocking up and down, I don’t feel like I’m in danger.”

  “Well, what’s wrong then?” He leaned his cheek on the top of her head.

  “I think you are the pirate.” She drew back from him. Her eyes widened as if hopeful he’d agree with her assumption.

  But he was confused. “Why do you think I’m the pirate?”

  “Because I’m in love with you, and you and the brooch came into my life about the same time, and I keep having this dream, so it must be you.” She tensed and locked eyes with him. “It has to be you.”

  He patted her. “Sweetie, if you want the pirate on the ship to be me, it can be me, you don’t have to ask my permission.” He closed his eyes briefly.

  “No, you don’t understand.” That was true. He hadn’t the faintest clue what she was talking about, and he didn’t think it was only because he was half asleep.

  “Remember the book I was reading this morning?” She bent over to retrieve her carry-on.

  His mind found the image of her all sexy in her satin PJs on the bed reading. “Yes.”

  She pulled out the box. “This is a journal where my female ancestors have recorded the stories of their true loves.” She shared the informati
on in a way that implied the sentence should have explained everything he needed to know, but he still wasn’t following.

  “OK. What does that have to do with me being a pirate?” He rolled his neck.

  “The brooch is passed down to the oldest female heir, and then she has a dream about her true love.” She smiled. “You.” Then she frowned. “Only my dream is about a pirate on a ship.”

  The pieces were starting to fall into place. “So, you think that if I’m not the pirate on the boat, you are supposed to be with someone else?”

  “Yes.” Her answer was quick and matter-of-fact.

  He realized he wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. “OK, so you love me. You want to run away with me, but if you see some other guy in the pirate outfit while you are dreaming, we’re over.”

  She averted her eyes. “When you put it that way, it sounds kinda…”

  “Absurd. It’s absurd.” Suddenly, Emerson felt very protective of the relationship. A random dream was not going to be the undoing of them. “Neither a dream, nor a piece of jewelry, can tell you what’s in your heart.”

  “I know, but--” She tapped the wooden lid with her index finger.

  “No buts. You cannot use unreliable objects to verify if I’m a good match for you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I understand if you are scared. Bloody hell, I know I am. So tell me now if you want out of this relationship, but do not give me some excuse about a book of love stories and fortune-telling jewelry.”

  She stared into his eyes and hugged the journal to her chest. He tried to read what she was thinking, but could not. He only saw love in them.

  “You’re right. I got caught up in the lore. I’m sorry. I love you.” She kissed him deep and passionately, waking up the rest of him.

  He pulled away from her for a moment. “You still want to join the Mile High Club?”

  She giggled. “Really?”

  He pinched her nipple and smiled wickedly.

  * * *

  Emerson fell asleep immediately after they’d made out under the coarse airplane blanket. Technically, they had not joined the Mile High Club. More like they attended the mixer.

  Though things had gotten hot and heavy--as hot and heavy as they could get in a small space, with stewardesses walking up and down the aisle--there was no intercourse or penetration of any kind. Olivia could not suppress her moans if he stroked her clit, even if it was through her pants, so they had settled on an hour of deep tongue-tangled kissing and upper body caressing.