Chrysalis: The Box Set (A Steamy Romance): The Complete Story of Brie's Journey in One Volume!

by Mia Moore

  He handed her the robe and all she could do was stare at his obvious enjoyment. With a smile and flutter of his fingertips, he left the room.

  Her fingers glided over the smooth brocade in the fabric and she glanced down at it. The flashy brightness of the robe was something she’d always avoided; she’d look like some kind of peacock or something. Yet…

  She got to her feet and stepped in front of the full length mirror and angled the frame to see her face more clearly. The deep shade of blue interspersed with lighter strands highlighted her eyes. Rob had described the color of her eyes as ‘Windex’ blue. But next to this robe, they actually looked more like an icy blue—better than any bottle of window cleaner. Her complexion seemed to kind of pop, even with the fevered pink of her cheeks.

  At his footsteps, she jumped back and scurried to shut the bedroom door. “I’m just changing. Give me a sec.”

  “Take your time, dear.” His footsteps whispered, going back down the hall.

  She tugged the brown turtleneck over her head and her fingers tore at the clasp of her bra. She threw them on the floor where her jeans, panties and socks soon joined the heap. Despite the weary feeling in her body, there was no way she’d miss checking out the robe on her body. She slid into it and once more stood in front of the mirror. Oh my God. It was like looking at a movie star or something, so elegant with the hem tickling her ankles.

  She preened to the left, sucking in her tummy, slipping her thigh between the opening at the front. What was it that Chris had said last night? Some movie star from long ago? Marilyn something-or-other? Yes, her thigh and the pose really looked exotic. She turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. Her tummy and shoulders sagged. Yeah, right. She was sure Marilyn didn’t have an over-sized caboose like hers.

  The cool satin against her skin brought on a shiver. She stepped to the bed and climbed under the covers. Maybe if she took the day and rested, she’d feel well enough to look for work tomorrow.

  At the soft tap at the door, she opened her eyes. “Come in.”

  A smile blossomed on her flushed face at the sight of him. He carried a tray with tea and toast, a small white baking cup and tall glass of water. But the best of it was the pink ruffled apron he sported.

  “I’ve got some aspirin and lots of liquids.” He set the tray on the bedside table, smiling down at her.

  “Chris, thanks. You’re too good to me.”

  He picked up the pile of clothes from the floor and turned to her. “Not good enough. Something tells me, no one’s ever been good to you. Get some sleep and we’ll talk later.”

  He went out the door and shut it quietly after him.

  Tears welled in her eyes and she reached for the small cup containing the aspirin. She threw them into her mouth and reached for the glass of water. Only then did she remember that she’d forgotten to take the money from her jeans. What if…

  Chapter 5

  It was after nine in the evening when she woke. She could have slept for another twelve hours if not for the hollow ache in her belly. Her hand rose to her forehead and she smiled. The fever was gone. Thank God. No, thank Chris.

  She swung her legs out of bed and pulled the sides of the robe from under her. What surprise would he have for her next? He’d been kinder than her mother had ever been when she was sick. Was it because he was gay or just because he was a decent person? What had he done that he thought this ‘penance’ was necessary?

  She left the room and ambled slowly down the hallway to the kitchen. It seemed he was a permanent fixture there. He stood at the stove where wisps of steam wafted above the pot he stirred. “How’re you feeling?” Once more he watched her with the same intensity as when she’d tried to pass off that she was a student. A hawk rather than a ‘mother hen’.

  Her arms stretched above her head and she yawned a reply. “Better, but I’m starving.” Her fingers pulled the robe tighter and she slumped into the same chair she’d been in the evening before.

  “Good.” He smiled down at the pot before his eyes lit up and he seemed to startle. “Oh. Before I forget…” His hands fished into the pocket of his pants. “Here’s the cash from your jeans.” A small chuckle escaped as he handed the wad to her. “Now you can add ‘money laundering’ to my list of crimes.”

  Her throat was thick and she murmured thanks as she took the cash. How could she have thought he was going to steal it when all he’d ever done to her was be kind? Kinder than anyone had ever been.

  “I hope you like chicken soup.” He reached for a bowl and plate from the cabinet beside him. After placing the bowl on the plate, he ladled a healthy serving and set it before her. With a flourish, he produced a spoon from the drawer.

  He took a seat across from her and leaned in, sniffing. “I can’t take credit if it’s good—straight out of a can, I’m afraid. I know, I know, I’m a disgrace to my sexual proclivity. We’re supposed to be great decorators and fine cooks. Decorating I got but I’m less than useless in the kitchen, aside from tea and toast of course.”

  “It’s good.” She murmured after swallowing the first spoonful. The warmth soothed her throat which was still a bit scratchy.

  “Do you cook?” He folded his hands in front of him and leaned back in the chair.

  “What do you think?” She patted the rounded mound of her tummy. “Actually it’s one of the few things I’m okay at.”

  He sighed and his eyebrows drew together watching her. “Why do you do that?”

  “What?” Her stomach clenched and her eyes widened. Had she said something to offend him?

  “Ever since you’ve been here, you denigrate yourself. A so-so cook, patting your tummy and trying to leave this morning when you were sick as a dog. Are you ever kind to yourself?” He sat forward in the chair and once more skewered her with his eyes. But there was a look of curiosity there too.

  With a sigh, she set the spoon on the table and looked down at the floor. Kind to herself? She was just being Brie, the way she’d always been. Her hands went to her thighs and she rubbed the fabric between her fingers. What did he expect her to say?

  He slapped the table sharply with the palm of his hand, startling her. When she looked up, there was a broad smile on his face.

  “Let’s play a game. The ‘if I could have any wish, what would I want’ game.” He gestured with his hand for her to continue eating. ‘I’ll go first.”

  He sat back and folded his hands over his ample belly. “My first wish is to meet Prince Charming and be swept off my feet and go to Paris for our honeymoon.” His eyebrows rose and he grinned at her. “Your turn.”

  Her breath caught in her throat and eyes flitted around the room. What the hell did she want? She’d never given this any thought before, not on the scale he was talking about. Her mind went totally blank and her heart sped up. She stayed silent for a minute, a minute that seemed to stretch into eternity.

  His smile faded and he leaned forward again, the chair creaking underneath his body. “Seriously? You can’t think of anything?” He shook his head slightly and his eyes lit up. “How about the job search tomorrow? If you could have any job, what would it be?”

  “Speaking of which, how much do I owe you for all this?” Brie picked up the spoon and took another bite of soup. There. That would get them off this topic. This was silly and uncomfortable.

  He wagged his finger in her face. “Fuck money and don’t change the subject.” He regarded her with what seemed like hope, like she was some kind of student he wanted to excel. “Okay, I’ll help you, a little. Is it astronaut, wall street broker, crane operator or Madam of a high class brothel?”

  She swallowed and her mouth fell open peering at him like he’s just dropped in from planet X. “I just want to get a steady job, maybe a convenience store or supermarket. Something that pays regularly with job security.”

  “That’s it? That’s your loftiest dream, security in a retail environment?” He shook his head from side to side, causing the flesh o
f his jowls to shudder.

  Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. “What’s wrong with that? And you still haven’t told you how much I owe you.” There. That’d shut him up.

  “Nothing wrong with it, I guess…By the way, I don’t need your money. I inherited a shit load and I only rent out rooms to break the monotony and for research.” He rose and plugged the tea kettle in.

  “Research? What do you do?” Now it was her turn to put HIM on the spot. Her face flushed as she finished the soup. He’d been so kind, this wasn’t fair.

  “I genuinely like meeting students—so bright eyed and optimistic--hearing their dreams and challenges. I’m a part time writer and full time schmuck. This is just fodder for the gristmill.” He turned and flashed a shy smile before reaching for a mug.

  “Full time schmuck? Now who’s the one putting himself down?” She grinned and rose to take her dishes to the sink.

  His fingers gripped her arm and he tugged to get her attention. “Brie. Will you trust me on something? I know you don’t know me, but I’m a pretty good judge of character. Being a writer and all that.” His grip on her arm became soft.

  At first her heart leapt into her throat at his sudden touch. But his voice was soothing and sincere. He’d been kind and he wasn’t in this for the money. What was his game? Her eyes were wide when she nodded slowly.

  “Good. You honor me. I’m going to help you. Not just get a job at the local bodega or grocery store…believe me I can do that. No. I want to teach you to dream, to be fully Brie. I know she’s worth it.”

  Chapter 6

  “I’ll make you a deal.” Chris’s mouth changed, a smile twitching the corners upwards. He thrust his freckled hand out. “For ninety days, you work for me. You say you can cook—that’s good because I won’t have to. In addition, you’ll do the cleaning. But, here’s the catch.”

  She watched his eyes bore into hers and the smile leave his lips. She wasn’t aware that she’d been holding her breath when she exhaled slowly. Sure, there had to be a catch. Imagine, just landing in the city and getting a job offer. The only luck she’d ever known was bad luck.

  “You have to enroll in an on-line course. Anything you want and I’ll even pay you a couple hundred dollars a week.” His hand hung out there, just waiting.

  A course and money! Her hand rose and gripped his weakly. “What kind of course?” Her eyebrows knitted together.

  He shook her hand firmly and released it. “Anything you want. What are you interested in? Computers, history, business admin?”

  Her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open. She shrugged and slumped down into the chair. “I don’t know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he’d heard it.

  “What? You don’t know what course or you don’t know about the deal?” He took the seat across from her, leaning closer.

  “No. the deal’s great. It’ll give me a chance to get to know my way around the city. I don’t know what I’d like to take. I wasn’t all that good in school.” She looked down at the golden pine table recalling how she’d scraped by, enough to get her high school diploma, but that was all. No student awards, and certainly no college plans.

  “Okay. No problem. Tell you what…since I’m a writer, I’m enrolling you in an English literature course.” He let out a chuckle. “Actually, you tried to pass yourself off as an English major, so that’s fitting, I think.”

  “So, I’m going to have to read books.” Her mouth pulled to the side and she looked up at him through dark eyelashes.

  “What’s wrong with that? What do you DO for entertainment?” He shook his head from side to side.

  She pulled the sash of the robe tighter and lifted her face. “Watch TV. You know, stuff like Maury Povitch, Survivor…Family Guy, the Simpson’s. Oh yeah and cooking shows. What do you watch?”

  He was silent for a few moments watching her intently. “The news, movies, documentaries.”

  “Oh.” Her gut tightened into a knot and she tugged at a hangnail on her thumb. “Some movies are okay.”

  “Good. I’m glad there’s some common ground. You say you like movies. We’re going to watch a movie together once a week. I pick the movie. Afterwards, we’re going to talk about the movie, what parts you liked, didn’t like, what the point of the movie was…You’re going to have to think, form an opinion.”

  Oh my God. Her heart had started beating faster as he spoke. This was starting to sound like school—boorrrring! He’d probably think whatever she said about the movie was stupid. God, would she even understand whatever movie he picked out was even about? Documentaries? Who in their right mind would watch those without a gun to their head?

  A wide smile flashed on his mouth, revealing small white teeth. “We’ll start with Pretty Woman. Ever seen it?”

  She sighed and a smile brightened her face. “Yeah. But I could watch it again.” This might not be so bad. “I can do that. Just one thing…”

  He placed his hand on hers, halting her fingers picking the hangnail. “Name it.”

  Once more she looked down and when she spoke her voice was barely above a whisper. “Promise not to make fun of me. I mean, I’m not as smart as you or most people, for that matter.”

  “I would never make fun of you. Whoever would do that is a total asshole. There’s no right or wrong answers when it comes to opinions. There’re just opinions. Even movie critics don’t agree. So have no fear.” He squeezed her hand and edged closer in his chair, staying silent until she looked up, meeting his gaze. “Whoever beat you down this low should be shot.”

  Her eyes welled with tears and she got up to pour a glass of water, purposely hiding her face. It seemed like she’d done a lot of crying since she’d got there. He must think she was a total wimp.

  “Brie. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to upset you. You probably love your parents and—”

  “NO!” She whirled and faced him. “Are you kidding? They never said anything nice to me! In school, I never got great report cards. After the second grade I learned to forge my mother’s signature so I wouldn’t have to show them to her.” Her hands flew to cover her face as tears blistered her eyes. After a minute of silent sobs, she looked at him. “You know what? She never even noticed when the report cards stopped coming home. Ain’t that something?”

  She set the glass on the counter and scurried from the room. His kindness and sympathetic gaze were too much to bear. In the bedroom, she flung herself onto the soft coverlet and gave way to a flood of tears, never hearing his footsteps in the hall as he turned off the lights and went to bed.

  Chapter 7

  When she woke, she felt as wrung out as a used dishrag. She pulled her body upright and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes widened when she looked across the room at the door. Her jeans and shirt were folded neatly on the hardwood. Oh God. Chris had put them there after she’d gone to bed or else he was already up.

  She pulled the robe together and tied the sash before stepping out in the hallway. A grin spread on her lips as she spotted him entering the kitchen, the hem of a lime green robe trailing behind. How many housecoats did he own?

  She poked her head in the kitchen. “Do you mind if I take a shower before I make breakfast?”

  He nodded and turned away to plug the kettle in.

  She was about to step away but a thought stopped her and she smiled. “Thanks for washing my clothes.”

  “No problem. Help yourself to anything in the bathroom. Fresh towel’s are under the sink.” He settled in the chair at the table and reached for his laptop.

  She slipped into the bedroom and grabbed her clothes before entering the bathroom. Once more the coordination of colors, pale grey walls, topped by a pink flowered border and plush hand towels that caught the hue of the flowers, made her grin. The gooseneck stainless spigot above the marble basin sparkled, like they’d never been used. Her hand drifted over the smooth surface of the sink. Nothing wet.

  He must hav
e his own bathroom. She set the clothes on the counter and shrugged the housecoat off. The folds of the fabric caught her eye as she hung it up on the hook behind the door. Indigo blue. Whether or not he was right about the shade being her color, she still liked it.

  She slid the shower door back and turned the faucet on. After testing it she stepped in, marveling at the array of shampoos and liquid soap containers. On impulse, she selected the Hawaiian Blue Garden. She sniffed it and grinned as wafts of a sharp spicy floral scent drifted into her nostrils. It sure beat the aroma of the soap she used to buy in Ohio. Of course, they’d always been the ones on sale.

  Her smile evaporated as a picture of Rob filled her mind’s eye. She squirted some shampoo into her palm and scrubbed her scalp with tense fingers. If only she could scrub all memories of him away. His voice played in her head, almost as if he could see her. ‘Think you’re pretty good now, don’t you? Using the fag’s fancy soap on your fat ass. Well soap won’t change the fact that you’re still a stupid fat ass.’

  She held her head back to rinse the shampoo from her hair, letting the warm water trail over her face, to mix with the tear that squeezed from her eye. Her shoulders slumped as she dribbled the scented soap into her palm and washed her pits and privates. Her hand flipped the lever of the shower off and she reached for the towel.

  Five minutes later, she trudged into the kitchen and managed a small smile at Chris. “What would you like for breakfast?” She may be a fat ass, but there was a reason for that. She knew how to cook a mean breakfast…and lunch…and dinner. Her stomach grumbled and he chuckled.

  “You decide. Surprise me.” He turned back to the computer.

  Her breath caught in her throat for a minute, staring at him. How was she to know what he’d like? She didn’t even know what food he had, let alone where to find the frying pans and other stuff. Okay, eggs she knew. She opened the fridge door and reached for the container of eggs. On the shelf above was a butter dish, jam and a block of pale yellow cheese. She grabbed all of these and placed them on the counter. Her eyebrow rose and she opened the fridge again and explored the vegetable bins. Aha. She plucked a Spanish onion and held it in front of her face like she’d found a long lost treasure.