Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  I need to find a job. I need to get a life.

  I go back to sleep and wake up in Manhattan. I exit the train and the station. At the corner of the street there are four phones. Two are out of order and only one of the two others is busy. I take a dime of my pocket and dial Ten's number. I silently pray for him to answer but on the fourth ring the answering machine picks up. I hate talking to machines. I'm about to hang up and then think better of it. The least I can do is leave a message to let him know I'm all right.

  The machine beeps and I start to talk, “Ten, it's me. . . ” and then I stop because I don't know what more to say. What could I possibly tell him, that I'm fine? I'm not. Well not really. “I just wanted to speak with you,” I say and then I hear a click and Ten's voice.

  “Lovey, is that you?”

  Listening to the sound of his voice and his name for me is so good. It's overwhelming. I laugh and cry at the same time and barely manage to say, “Yes. ”

  “Where are you Lovey?” he asks. His voice is choked.

  “Penn station,” I say. “Across from the post office. ”

  “Okay. Don't move. Stay there. I'm coming for you. I'll be with you in twenty minutes. ”

  I hang up the phone and start pacing. I've spent so much time locked up in my room and unable to see my feet that just being able to walk freely and to look at my toes feels exhilarating. I need to concentrate on the little joys to forget the bigger pain. I eavesdrop on the conversation of the woman who's still speaking on the corner phone. She's telling a friend about a blind date from hell. She's funny and listening to her description of the sorry ass she spent the evening with gets a smile on my face.

  “So finally he said, ‘I’m not a breast man, I’m more into butts than breasts,’” she tells her friend. “Can you imagine the nerve of this guy? So I just got up and walked away … yeah, you’re right, that gave him a chance to appreciate my butt and to find out what he missed for arriving late. ” She laughs and swears that she’ll never again go on a blind date.

  I don't know if it's her good humor or the pulse of the city or yet again the fact that Ten is coming to get me but I'm starting to feel better. I look around. Just from where I'm standing I can see a dozen restaurants. I won't have a problem finding a job in this city. I just need to whip myself into shape and buy some new clothes. To do that I need to get my money out of my saving accounts. I left my saving pass with Martha. I’m pretty sure it remained safe with her and she’ll mail it to me when I ask her.

  I'm still pacing when Ten arrives. He's carrying an extra helmet strapped around his elbow. I run to him and hug him fiercely, “Please take me away from here. ”

  He blinks and gives me the second helmet. I grab it and hop in behind him. At least the tent like dress I’m wearing is wide enough to keep me decent while we ride. I’m sore and the vibrations of the machine are painful on my lower regions but I don’t care. I’m free. Another twenty minutes through rush hour traffic and we descend in the parking garage of his building. We dismount and he takes my bag and my hand as we walk to the elevators. He's holding my hand so tight it's almost too much but I'm fine with it. I so badly need the connection.

  The garage is busy. People are coming and going. A couple of mechanics are working on a car. Just as we walk in the elevator, another couple arrives. They're on their way to the penthouse. We stop two floors before. We enter his apartment and Ten calls out as he walks me through the living room, “Anybody home?”

  No one answers. I guess we're alone. We enter Ten's bedroom suite and he slams the door behind us, drops our stuff on his desks and takes my face in his hands. He looks at me intently as if trying to make sure I'm all right. I can see that he's relieved to have me here but still concerned.

  “Your mother said you ran away. I didn't believe her for a second. If you had run you would have run to me or to Xander, not away from us. ” I nod. I love that he never doubted me. I adore that he did not believe her. I know his trust and his love for me are as unconditional as mine for him.

  “What happened?” he asks. “Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you. ” I want to tell him everything but I don't know where to start. I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his chest. His hand is messing up my hair. “Come on, Lovey, talk to me. ”

  “I was in Florida, locked up for months. ” I say and my voice turns into a whisper as I tell him, “I just had a baby. A little girl and they took her away from me. ”

  He holds me tight as I tell him about the windowless room and Maria and Miguel. I tell him about Eve and how I failed her and how I failed Alexander and myself. I tell him I'm never going back to the Bitch's place.

  When I'm done speaking, he just says, “Right now you need to rest. You're going to stay with me at least until you get your strength back and then you'll see what you want to do. ” His voice is so cold, it scares me.

  “Are you mad?” I ask him.

  He lifts my head to look into my eyes, “Mad as hell but not at you, Baby, never at you. ” There’s something different about him. It’s not just the fact that he called me baby, which he’s never done before, it’s something else and I can’t put my finger on it.

  He looks around in his drawers for one large tee shirt and then walks with me to the adjacent bathroom. He has a gigantic shower. A nice change from the tiny cubicle I had to use lately at the clinic. “Come on Lovey, get ready for bed. I know it's early but you look like you need to get some sleep. I'll be right next door in the living room. If you're hungry later, I'll order something. ” He kisses my forehead and says, “If you sleep through the night we'll talk tomorrow. ”

  I undress and avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I throw away the pads I had lined the inside of my bra with to absorb the leakage. My breasts hurt. I step under very warm water and I press to get some milk out and relieve the pressure. Somehow the heat helps. I wash my hair and appreciate the seemingly endless supply of water.

  I dry up and slip in Ten's T-shirt and then in Ten's bed. I rest my head on a pillow and it smells like him, sweet and comforting. It's only 6 p. m. according to the clock on the nightstand but Ten is right, I'm exhausted.

  I wake up in a jolt. I feel like my head hit the pillow three seconds ago but according to the clock it's been more than five hours. My breasts are so tense I think I’m about to explode. Ten is in the bed next to me. It’s weird. I mean on our little corner of the beach in Long Island I have laid next to him hundreds of times but I’ve never been in bed with him. He's turned on the light in the bathroom and left the door slightly ajar. I love him so for thinking of little stuff like that.

  In the dim light I can see that he's on his side leaning on one elbow looking at me. What's really strange is that he's not looking at my face. He's looking a little more south. I follow his gaze to my breast region and realize the front of the shirt is soaking wet. I'm leaking. I should have worn a bra and padded the inside with toilet paper. I forgot.

  “Does it hurt?” he asks.

  I lie. “Just a bit. It's not that bad. Well it wouldn't be if I didn’t mind feeling like they will soon both burst. “Eventually it will pass. I just have to wait it out. ”

  “I think I know of a way to help,” Ten shyly says.

  “You do?” The surprise in my voice is unmistakable.

  “Yes, but I'm afraid your going to think I'm a freak. ”

  “Never, I would never think that about you. ” I take a playful tone and add, “I know you're a bit weird. I mean seriously, you picked me as your best friend so you are weird but a freak, no never. ”

  “Okay, so close your eyes,” he says.

  My trust in Ten is such that I do close my eyes without hesitation. I don't open them when I feel him pulling the T-shirt up to my neck.

  I shudder when I feel that he's putting one hand on a breast and his lips to a nipple. It works. It's amazingly soothing. The relief is almost instant. I put a hand on Ten's head and run my fingers through his hair. I let him wo
rk on the first breast for a minute and then pull his head to the second.

  I open my eyes and look at him. His eyes are closed and the expression on his face is so intense I don't know what to make of it. He's right. What we're doing would probably look freaky to others but there is no doubt in my mind that it's an act of pure and absolute love. It's amazingly intimate without being sexual. I close my eyes again feeling as if I had cheated by taking a peek at his face. He pulls away and with the most tender voice, he asks, “How are you feeling now?”

  “Much better, thank you. ”

  He cradles me in his arms and rolls on his back taking me with him.

  “How did it make you feel?” I ask looking up at his beautiful face.

  He thinks for a moment and says, “Trusted and loved. Lovey, you always made me feel loved. ”

  I close my eyes and think about that Christmas day on the pier. One look at each other and we had known we had come with the same purpose in mind. We were tired of the games the grown ups were playing and we wanted to get off their crazy merry-go-rounds.

  I go back to sleep thinking how lucky we are to have found each other that day.

  ***

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ten cracks the kitchen door open and asks, “Is everything ready?”

  “Yes, almost,” I answer. “We still have time, the party is starting at eight. ”

  “You're sure I can't do anything to help?”

  “Nope, you have finals in a couple of weeks, you need great grades to get a summer internship in a top law firm, I don't want you in my kitchen,” I growl back.

  “Leave the girl alone, if she doesn't want help, you should thank the Lord and count your blessing,” says a deep baritone male voice.

  “Oh no Andy,” I say. “There's a misunderstanding here. I did not say that I did not want help, I just said that I didn't want Ten's help. He's got some studying to do. Now your help would be greatly appreciated, Officer. ”

  Ten retreats and calls out to Andrew, “There goes another opportunity to keep your big mouth shut, Officer Andrew. ”

  Andrew walks in the kitchen and give me his best salute, “Reporting for duty, Ma'am. ”

  Andy loves goofing around and never misses an opportunity to make me laugh. I give him a pile of ashtrays to scatter about the living room and instruct him to return for a more delicate mission when this one is accomplished. We need to push the furniture around to make a dance floor. I boss him around for a little while and when everything is ready, I promise him that when he finally decides to take the sergeant exam I'll be catering to his every need to make sure he gets all the studying time necessary.

  I go to my bedroom to get dressed. I'm working so hard that I'm the lightest I've been in years. Nevertheless, without clothes on I feel horrible. Eve's pregnancy has left stretch marks all over. With clothes on, I look okay. No, the truth is I look good. Between Eve’s birth in September and this New Year’s evening I got myself back together. Tonight, I'm breaking in new black leather pants and a black silk shirt. Both were presents from Ten for Christmas. He also gave me a necklace with big black pearls that used to belong to his grandmother. She loved custom jewels and this one was of really good quality since it held up all those years. Otherwise Jane Clark wore very little real fancy jewelry. I remember she had a simple gold wedding band and then a ring with a sapphire and two little diamonds. I put the necklace on and look at myself in the mirror. I'm thinking that I'm looking pretty hot for a size 14.

  Except that Alexander is the only one I would really like to look sexy for. I walk out of my room and Andrew whistles, “You look good. ”

  I smile and curtsy, “You don't look too bad yourself. ”

  Instead of the usual tee-shirt, he's tucked in a crisp white shirt in his jeans and it suits him. He's holding a tumbler of scotch in his hand and has a dreamy look on his face. This means trouble. The man can't hold his liquor. It's a good thing he seldom drinks.

  “If you were not spoken for, I would seriously hit on you. ”

  My smile vanishes. Why did he have to make me think of Alexander? Xander Wild is still in Europe. The last concert of his tour was yesterday. Tonight it's going to be a year since we parted. I haven't even spoken to him once since.

  I don’t care what Andrew says, as far as I’m concerned, I’m not spoken for by anyone and especially not by his brother.

  If I'm to believe Andrew's drunken banter, Alexander still thinks of me as his girl and expects me to be waiting for him. If that's so, why hasn't he called me? When I think about it there are big bubbles of anger that pop to the surface of my feelings.

  I catch Andrew in a hug and say playfully, “Well, your brother’s not here and if you don’t try anything tonight or soon, before I find a special someone, you’ll never know if you missed your chance. ”

  Andrew holds me at arms length with a mock horror look on his face and says, “Xander would rip my balls out, make me cook them, and feed them to me if he caught me just ogling you. Seriously, don't even let him find out that we share the same bathroom and that I walked in on you as you were showering!”

  “You what?”

  The intercom buzzes and Andy runs to answer it, “Saved by the bell,” he says.

  “We're not finished with this conversation,” I say.

  “Yes we are. You know he makes up things when he drinks,” says Oliver.

  “Oh good, you're home. I didn't hear you come in. Are you okay? » I ask him.

  Oliver is our other roommate. He's doing his intern rotations and usually when he gets home he just crashes.

  “Yes, Mum. ” Oliver often makes fun of the way I mother him but I think he secretly loves it. Who wouldn't, I would love to have some one taking care of me the way that I take care of them. I'm being unfair, Ten is always attentive and Andrew and Oliver are always caring.

  “The last shift was quiet, I was able to catch a little shut eye,” he says. “I'll be fine. ”

  Ten steps out of his room as I walk to the kitchen get some ice out. I turn around and watch my three musketeers ready to greet our guests.

  “Are we ready to party?” I ask.

  “Hell, yes!” the three of them say.

  Our friends arrive and soon enough we have a joyous party. I've had one of the cooks at work help me prepare a cold buffet so now that I have it set out I'm all done. Oliver's prepared a tape alternating fast and slow songs. Couples are dancing in the middle of the room. When the slow songs come on, he dims the light and catches one of the cute interns he's invited. I watch them dance until I hear one song I love. It's My First, My Last, My Everything. Ten catches me and makes me dance. “I've decided that this is going to be our song, so you have to dance with me,” he says.

  I look up to him and as we move slowly to the rhythm of the music and my heart swells. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” I ask him.

  “About a million times,” he jokes.

  “I don't know what I would have done without you. ”

  “Shush,” he says, pressing my head on his chest. “I probably need you more than you need me, Lovey. ”

  I really can't imagine what my life would have been without him. I understand that I bring him all the love the little boy in him has always been craving but I'm not sure it's half as life defining for him as what he's done for me. Ten's my savior, he's my rock. He even gave me the self-confidence I badly needed to apply for a job I never dreamed I could get. Without him I would not even have presented myself to the interview to become Marc Martin's assistant. I had never heard of the restaurant entrepreneur before Ten showed the ad to me.

  Ten had done some research about him and found out that, just like me, he had started out in his family restaurant. He had run away and found his first job at sixteen on a luxury cruise ship in New York as a low hand assistant.

  Ten was right. Marc Martin was the sort of man that would hire a girl my age with no formal education but an experience similar to his.

  Workin
g with him for the past two months has been mind blowing and I have Ten to thank for it. So Ten's given me my job as well as the place where I live and the company of my wonderful roommates.

  There's only one thing missing in my life. I need someone to fall in love with and forget Alexander. I need this so badly it hurts. When I think about Alexander it's like there's a ball of lead in the middle of my chest and I can't breathe.

  This is just what's happening to me as the next song begins. It's a slow ballad Alex wrote about a girl. In the lyrics, he swears eternal love using my words “No one, no one ever before . . . and I wish for no one, no one ever after. ”

  The first time I heard it I wanted to die.

  “I know you miss him, Lovey,” Ten says, “but you know he’s a musician, hell you even gave him your blessing to go on tour. You can't blame him for being away. ”

  “It’s over. If he were not over me why wouldn’t he call me?” I ask Ten. “I know he calls his family. He's even called here and spoken to Andrew. Why not me?”

  “Probably because he doesn't feel that the telephone is an appropriate way of communicating with you,” Ten answers.

  I shrug but Ten won't let go, “He's taken your family name as his for a stage name. He's written wonderful songs about you. Do you know how many girls would kill to have him write about them the way he writes about his love for you?” He's right. The one we wrote together has yet to be released but the one we're dancing to is beautiful and I believe he wrote it for me using my words for him.

  I just wish Xander Wild would come back home from his tour so I could have my Alexander back. I heard Andrew say that his tour just ended with his concert in London yesterday. He’ll be home soon and the very thought of possibly seeing him again makes me shiver. The music goes back to a faster beat and Ten lets me go. I'm back playing hostess and checking on everybody.

  I hear retching as I walk by the bathroom. I knock on the door and try to turn the handle. The idiot throwing up in the bathroom has locked the door. “Go away. Leave me alone. ” Shit, it's Andrew.