by Meier, Susan
This time, he pounded into her. No more slow and even, or fun and games. Her twenty seconds of touching him seemed to have let something loose inside of him and he roared to life, taking her higher and further, harder and faster until she shattered. Her orgasm tore through her, pulling a scream from deep inside her.
He plunged in again. And again. And again. Restarting the heat, building the momentum until she came a second time. Then he pushed in harder and faster until he shuddered.
He fell on top of her, nestling his face in her neck. She still tingled, still shuddered, still wanted to feel him against her.
Reality finally caught up with her. What was she doing?
What had she done?
She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the wanton way she’d kissed him, the way she’d wanted to taste every inch of him, and the way he hadn’t held back. As he’d said, he’d let the lust rule.
And her bedroom—the entire world—became silent.
She knew why they hadn’t resisted temptation. They were hot for each other. But now reality was back.
…
His head on the soft, Ellie-scented pillow, Finn ran his fingers though his already messed-up hair. Confusion raced through his brain, competing with the warm, mellow afterglow of sex.
He shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d come to the person who’d consoled him the last time he’d stood up to his dad. He might have won this round, tossing the old man out of his business instead of getting tossed out of the family home, but he’d been so angry he couldn’t work. And what had he done? Found Ellie.
Waited for Ellie.
He’d only intended to joke around, get himself into a better mood, but then he’d somehow insulted her and they’d gone into her house. Though she’d argued with him, her big brown eyes had gotten that sexy, shiny look that told him she found him as attractive as he found her, and everything kind of got away from him.
But she’d been right there with him. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her.
“I’m not going to apologize.”
She put her arm over her eyes. “Oh, Lord, please don’t.”
“It’s just that sometimes when you get sassy with me, it turns me on.”
She didn’t say anything.
The need to explain climbed up from his gut and lodged in his chest. There couldn’t really be anything between them. She was, after all, the competition. But he’d been in a state when he pulled his bike into her driveway, and she should know he hadn’t intended to seduce her—or be seduced. He’d just wanted to talk. “I actually came over here hoping you could make me laugh.”
She sat up. “Really?”
He caught her gaze. Her eyes were round and curious. As if their attraction puzzled her. It didn’t puzzle him; they were kind of the same. Always had been. She’d had troubles that drove her to be the best so she could get into a good school and leave town. He’d had troubles that drove him to want to be the best so he could get a scholarship and leave town. Add her cute little smile and sexy little body to that, and, well…it was a wonder they didn’t spontaneously combust.
“We had such a good laugh this morning over the way I sneaked into your funeral that I wasn’t prepared when I went back to work and found my dad.”
She sat up a little farther. “Your dad?”
“He was there with my mom, trying to pretend everything was peachy.”
“Everything wasn’t peachy?”
Okay. He understood that she might not get it about the little lust thing they had going on. But why did she have such a confused look on her face now? He’d told her about his dad nine years ago.
“No. Everything wasn’t peachy. I told you before, he beats her. He used to beat me, Cade, and Devon, too, but we got out. It took us this long to get our lives settled enough that we could help her, but I’m here now and I got her to move in with me.”
Realizing he was shouting, he reined in his temper. He was mad at his dad, not Ellie. He liked Ellie. Maybe a little too much for a competitor. “She’s been at my house for weeks. I guess he must have thought eventually she’d come home. But she didn’t, so he came to the funeral home today.”
Ellie cleared her throat. “Why the funeral home?”
“Because she also works for me.”
“Oh.”
The room grew quiet, but Finn felt okay. Just as he had after they’d made love the first time. Telling her didn’t change anything, but it always made him feel better.
And he suddenly remembered he’d left Margaret sitting at Donovan’s.
He rolled over and pinned Ellie to the bed again. “I really hate to kiss and run, but I got a funeral.”
“Margaret Wojak.”
With their chests touching and their legs tangled, her warmth filled him. He slid his hand down the curve of her side, longing to run his fingers through the hair that curled around her ears. He would have paid good money to be able to stay.
Regret filled his voice. “I’ve gotta go.”
“I know.”
He wanted to say, “I’ll be back,” but he couldn’t. For as much as his hormones and her hormones seemed to mesh, they were fighting for the business of a small town that only had enough work to support one funeral home.
He had to win.
She had to win.
And that’s why they were both suddenly so awkward, so quiet.
He glanced around. His clothes were all over the place. Her bra had landed on a chair. Her sexy black panties were by the door. He didn’t even remember taking them off.
Wow.
He knew he’d do this again if she as much as crooked her finger in his direction. Not that he was weak, but they were that good together. And he could separate business from pleasure. But her life was a mess. And maybe her silence meant she couldn’t.
He rolled off her and out of bed. He gathered his clothes and slipped into them before he sat on a convenient chair to put on his shoes.
Rising, he caught her gaze. She didn’t smile. He supposed he didn’t expect her to.
They were competitors and now they were going to have to deal with the consequences of falling victim to their hormones. Or she was. He’d quite happily separate their business and their pleasure.
But the silence that followed him out the door told him she wasn’t quite so forward-thinking.
…
Ellie heard the front door open and close, and listened to his footfalls on all thirteen steps to the porch. When they finally stopped, she collapsed onto her pillow.
She stared at the ceiling, trying to put it all together in her head and failing. She got the part about their lust. No problem understanding that. But the part about his dad? The same story he’d told her the first time they’d done this, that Jeb Donovan, bank president, Rotary member, church usher, beat his wife and kids?
She’d thought that was the lie of a seventeen-year-old, trying to get into her pants—which would psych her out. But this time, there was no test tomorrow. And this time, she’d wanted it as much as he had.
So why the hell tell her that lie again?
Unless it wasn’t a lie?
Unless his dad really had come to his place of business to try to sweet-talk his mom home?
And Finn really had come to her wanting to talk?
The music of her ringtone blasted from the kitchen into the quiet room. She got out of bed, raced to the table, and pulled her phone from her purse. Not bothering to look at the caller ID, she said, “McDermott’s.”
“I figured out how to counteract losing the Wojak funeral,” Ashley said excitedly.
“I didn’t lose the funeral; it wasn’t up for grabs. Margaret had already made arrangements with Finn. But that’s actually good because Finn reminded me today I don’t have to wait for people to die. I can start selling prepaid funerals.”
“Oh. So that takes care of things?”
“Getting the idea is just the tip of the iceberg. I have to set goals, sell a certain nu
mber of packages. Then I have to set up the account with the bank so they can actually do the financing—”
Her gaze fell to her dress, puddled on the floor, and she swallowed. As a teenage girl it had been easy to conceptualize Finn’s dad beating him. Because she was thinking about Finn, not his dad. As an adult, she couldn’t imagine respected bank president Jeb Donovan hurting his family. Of course, at this point, Finn had no reason to lie. Or exaggerate. And he had said he’d moved his mother out of his dad’s house.
“Ellie? Are you there?”
She drew a breath. “There’s a lot of setup work involved in making prepaid arrangements. Plus, it’s not going to be easy for me to sell in this town. I don’t have the connections Finn has.”
“And you need connections to sell the packages?”
She walked back down the hall, not wanting to have this normal, logical conversation with Ashley when she was naked.
“I’ve got to have at least a foot in the door with people. I can’t just walk up to them and say, hey, wanna buy a funeral package?”
Ashley laughed happily. “This is perfect.”
“Perfect?”
“Yes. I called to suggest you join the Dinner Belles.”
Positive she hadn’t heard correctly, Ellie said, “Join the Dinner Belles?”
“Your goal is to sell funeral packages. But to do that you need a foot in the door. So you join the group and ease your way in.”
Looking for her bra, trying not to think of Finn whipping it off with one quick flick of his talented wrist, Ellie said, “Not on your life.”
“Why not?”
“Well, if, say for argument’s sake, we discount the fact that I can’t cook, there’s always the I-hate-their-guts factor.”
“You can be a dishwasher. Plus, you’re twenty-seven. You’re smart enough to know you need them. The Dinner Belles are a big part of Harmony Hills. Everybody likes them. Everybody respects them. If they give a recommendation, it’s taken. Spend enough time with them, and it won’t matter if Finn meets with them. They’ll buy those funeral packages from you and tell their friends to do the same.”
“So to sell those packages I have to help people I hate?”
“Ellie, you don’t hate them. You’re mad at them for gossiping about your mom. But you can’t hold a grudge forever. Especially when you need them.”
Unfortunately, what Ashley said made sense. “I guess I do.”
“I know you do. So you need to get over this. And the best way to get over it is to work with them as people. Make friends. Get them to like you. And then your foot’s in the door and, before you know it, you’ll be selling funeral packages, making money hand over fist.”
It did sound like a plan.
“All right. But what about Finn? Technically, he pitched to these ladies first. That’s how I got the idea. I saw the estimate sheets he’d given out at Old Man Berkey’s funeral.”
“So?”
“So I’d feel like I’m stealing his business.”
“Are you kidding me? Until somebody signs on the dotted line, you have to think of every person as still up for grabs. Finn will. I think he’d sell his mother to win a bet or make a dollar.”
“Trust me. He wouldn’t.”
“Oh, you’re an expert now?”
“No. I just don’t like stealing his idea to run him out of business.”
“Hey, he’s the interloper who came into town and started the competing business.” When Ellie didn’t say anything, Ashley sighed. “What’s gotten into you?”
Ellie winced. She might not tell Ashley she and Finn had done it, on her bed, like two needy bunnies, but the whole thing about his dad confused her. And if anybody could sort it out, it was Ashley.
“When I got back to McDermott’s after visiting my dad, Finn was here…and, well… We talked a bit…” She winced again, telling herself that wasn’t a lie. They had talked a bit. “And remember the stuff he told me to get me to sleep with him the night before the calculus exam?”
“You mean the lies.”
“What if they aren’t lies?” She grimaced. Nine years ago, he’d told her to keep the information about his dad a secret. He hadn’t asked her to keep his confidence today, but really, if this were true, it wasn’t the kind of thing he would want getting out.
“Okay, listen. I’m telling you this in the strictest of confidence. Finn didn’t make me swear not to tell anyone today, but he did nine years ago, and this relates, so you have to promise not to repeat one word.”
“If I think it’s true, I’ll keep it to myself. If I don’t, I have no reason to tell anyone.”
“Okay.”
“So?”
“So, he talked his mom into leaving his dad.”
There was dead silence for ten seconds. When Ashley spoke, her voice dripped with skepticism. “Jeb Donovan’s wife left him?”
“Weeks ago. And apparently his dad was waiting for him after Old Man Berkey’s funeral. At his office. Finn’s mom works for him, and Finn thinks his dad might have gone there to talk her into coming home.”
“Well, it’s not as disgusting as trying to make you believe his dad beat him and kicked him out of the house, but it does show a certain flare for storytelling.”
Embarrassment poured through Ellie. “You don’t believe him?”
“Don’t you think we’d have heard about it if the wife of one of the town’s most important men left him?”
“Not if they are trying to keep it hush-hush.”
Ashley sighed. “Ellie, please. I know you have a soft heart. But you and Finn are competing again. And he’s proven he’ll pull out all the stops to win.”
“I don’t see how telling me his dad beats his mom helps him win.” Especially since they’d already had sex by the time he’d told her.
“It gets your sympathy.”
“Which gets him nothing.”
“You just worried about taking the Dinner Belles business when he’d been the first to talk to them. I don’t call that nothing. You’re softening to him.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’ve always said he’d do anything to win. Old Man Berkey’s funeral proved that you’re going to be real competition. And his easy answer to that was to buy you out. But you’d already turned down his offer. So today he probably decided to go another route. Playing on your sympathies worked the night before the calculus exam. Why wouldn’t he try that again?”
Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. What had happened to her brain? The man wanted to buy her business. She had proven she could be competition. And now that she knew about the prepaid funeral packages, he had to know she’d go after those too. Of course he’d pulled out all the stops.
“You didn’t protect yourself the last time he tried to snooker you, and he took your virginity and then never spoke another word to you. This time, don’t be such a sap. Join the Dinner Belles, get them on your side. Sell those funeral packages.”
Oh, you’d better believe I intend to sell funeral packages. She intended to sell the hell out of those funeral packages.
“The Belles have a pierogi-making party tomorrow. I’ll come and get you in the morning.”
“You’ll come and get me?”
Ashley laughed. “I’m a Belle. I couldn’t make Old Man Berkey’s funeral because of dentist appointments for the kids, but I’m usually in on every activity.”
Confused, Ellie stared at her phone for a few seconds before she said, “Since when did you join the old ladies’ group?”
“Hey, it’s boring in a small town. I’m a stay-at-home mom who likes to be around other people. Besides, I like the Belles.”
“Oh my God.”
“It won’t be that bad. We’ll drive over together. You can tell them you’re joining because you were grateful for the good lunch they made for Mr. Berkey. They’ll be appreciative of the help, and you’ll have your foot in the door. You can beat this guy at his own game.”
The next morning at eigh
t, Ellie stood on the funeral home’s front porch, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with an old apron tucked under her arm and extra dish towels in her hand. Ashley pulled up and she got into her minivan filled with sippy cups, empty fast food bags, and assorted socks and shoes, not necessarily in pairs.
“I’m going to hate this.”
“I don’t care.”
She sighed. “I guess I don’t either, since I have some selling to do.”
“And I’ll help you.”
They entered a noisy church hall. When everyone glanced up and saw Ellie, though, the chatting stopped.
Ashley breezed into the kitchen, over to the center island, where she dropped her purse and slid into her apron. “You all know, Ellie, right? She’s taken over the funeral home for her dad, and let’s just say the town’s good fortune of not having had anybody die for a little while means she’s bored.”
Ellie thought of the Tidy Whitiez work waiting on her desk and couldn’t actually lie, so she said, “There’s a lot of downtime in the funeral home business.”
Sandy Wojak laughed. “Well, we have plenty for you to do, if you’re interested in volunteering.”
Ashley said, “I think we should make her a full-fledged Belle. That way she has to come when we call.”
Debbie Martin laughed. “Except she can’t help cook after-funeral lunches.”
“Nope. Hopefully I’ll be busy those mornings.”
And then an amazing thing happened. Everybody started talking at once. Not necessarily to Ellie and not even about her joining the group. They talked about kids and bake sales, football camp that was starting next month, Debbie Martin’s daughter Sissy’s upcoming wedding, somebody’s new car, and the price of having vinyl siding put on a house.
She tied her apron strings, was directed to start cutting margarine into flour—which really wasn’t too difficult once she got the hang of it—and suddenly, she was a Dinner Belle.
After an hour of mixing dough, rolling it out, cutting it into perfect circles with empty tuna cans, and filling it with balls made of potatoes and cheese, Ashley very casually said, “You know, Ellie’s going to start selling funeral packages.”
All gazes turned in her direction.
