The night she got lucky sfdg-2

by Susan Donovan

  Get out, Larry, Genevieve said between clenched teeth.

  You took my beans. The ex-husband straightened his shoulders when he said that, and sniffed in defiance. You entered my house illegally and stole my canned goods.

  Lucio watched Genevieve turn to her boys. The mother and sons stared at one another in silence, as if confirming that they'd all heard the same bizarre statement.

  What are you talking about, Dad? Jason eventually asked.

  I am talking about the fact that your motherwhom I continue to support out of the kindness of my heart and to my own detrimenthad the nerve to break into my home at some point during the day and steal two cans of refried beans.

  Lucio almost laughed. There was something very odd about this conversation, but who was he to judge? It reminded him of when he was on assignment photographing the puberty rites of the Baniva people of the Orinoco River Valley. He hadn't understood their elaborate ritual, nor did he approve of it, but that didn't make it wrong. In the case of the Garrison tribe, Lucio knew nothing about the ex-husband, or his mental history, or his relationship with his ex-wife. As long as it didn't turn abusive, he had no right to interfere. But the fact remained that it was quite entertaining.

  Excuse me? Genevieve seemed shocked by the accusation.

  You deny it? Larry staggered around a bit, dipping his hand into his front pocket. For an instant, Lucio feared he was reaching for a weapon and prepared to rush inside to tackle the man, but Larry pulled out a set of keys. They looked familiar.

  I found your keys on my kitchen counter, Ginger. The pantry door was left open. I did an inventory. I am missing two cans of Annie's Organic Kitchen refried beans. With that, Larry jangled the keys in her face for effect. Give me back my beans or I'm calling the police.

  Lucio watched as Genevieve slowly turned to Joshua. Her son shrugged, looking guilty.

  I thought you went to the corner market for those beans, Josh, she said.

  Uh, no. I went over to Dad's. It's closer.

  Genevieve rolled her eyes.

  That's sick, Larry said. You would actually send your child to do your dirty work? Incredible! Beyond the pale!

  Genevieve grabbed her keys from Larry's hand. Jason, get my purse. Joshua, get the cans out of the recycle bin and bring them to me. Now.

  The boys did as she directed, scurrying off in opposite directions. While they were gone, Genevieve stood firmly in front of Larry and shook her head in disgust. You're a mess, Larry.

  She left me, he mumbled, rubbing his hands through his mussed-up hair. She was so young and so beautiful! She was so fun! So incredibly, unbelievably young! He scowled when he realized he'd repeated himself. I guess I was good enough to go to Maui with but not good enough to date once we got back to town! It's so unfair!

  Gee, sorry to hear all that. Genevieve grabbed her purse from Jason as he ran up, holding it out to her. Joshua returned with the cans. What is the price on each of those cans? she asked him.

  Joshua studied the labels. Looks like one dollar and ninety-five cents each, he said.

  Genevieve opened her wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill, which she folded and stuck into Larry's front pants pocket. He looked confused.

  That will cover the cost of the beans with a little extra for your mental anguish. Then she grabbed the cans from Joshua and shoved them at her ex-husband. Here you go. I wouldn't want to deprive you of your recycling refund.

  Lucio lost his battle. He snickered. He could not help it. The dialogue was funnier than any BBC farce he'd ever seen.

  Who the fuck is that? Larry pointed a can out toward the patio. Who's out there?

  Lucio stepped forward, then moved inside the doorway to stand next to Genevieve and the boys. Hello, Senor Garrison. My name is Lucio Montevez. I am a photographer here to take a portrait of Genevieve and her dog.

  Larry scrunched up his nose and mouth, obviously having trouble processing the information Lucio had just shared. Huh? Larry asked. Did you just call her Genevieve? What the fu'?

  Let's go, Dad, Jason said, turning his father around so that he faced the hallway that would lead to the foyer and front door. Lucio said I could work as his photographer's assistant. Isn't that cool?

  Larry spun out of his son's grip, then lurched toward Lucio. You have no right to be in my home, he said, waving around one of the cans. I didn't build this place from the ground up so that some greasy Italian pretty boy could come in here and put his hands on my wife and take pictures of my dog and pretend to be some kind of fucking mentor to my boys! They don't need a father figure! They have me!

  Of course, Lucio said.

  Larry was not done. That's my dog you're talking about, Fabio! My wife! My boys! My house! His face became flushed. Just who the hell do you think you are? You'll never fit into Larry Garrison's shoes!

  Joshua went to his father's other side. Together, the teenagers dragged him down the hall to the door. Larry, however, wanted one last word, and managed to swivel free again. He straightened an arm and glared down the barrel of the empty can pointed directly at Lucio. I've never trusted Italians, he said.

  I have always felt fortunate to be a Spaniard, Lucio said.

  Same thing, Larry said.

  At that instant, little HeatherLynn decided to join the party. She toddled up to Larry, stretching out her front paws while raising her rump, then let go with a big, wide yawn.

  See? Larry said, nodding toward the dog with pride. She knows I'm her master.

  With that, the little doggie sniffed at Larry's loafer, then squatted, shooting a hard and straight stream of urine directly onto the shoe's squared leather toe. Then she ran into the sitting room and dove under the sofa.

  Larry was in shock. The only sound he made was a high squeak of disbelief as he raised his foot above the puddle. The boys turned him around and led him out the door and down the drive, walking right past a shiny new black Porsche convertible in the driveway. The boys were smart not to let him get behind the wheel.

  We'll be back in a few minutes, Mom! Josh called out.

  While they watched the boys navigate their father down the sidewalk, Lucio draped an arm over Genevieve's shoulder.

  She sighed, curling her arm around his waist. Well, you've just met my former husband, Dr. Lawrence Hutchins Garrison the Third. He's the chief of urology at University Hospital.

  Lucio nodded. In those shoes, he most certainly is.

  She laughed. You know, Larry's not a horrible guy not all the time, anyway. He was in rare form tonight, and I'm sorry you had to see him like that.

  Lucio leaned into Genevieve and hugged her tight to his side. I have seen most of life's grand spectacle, bonita. I can handle one drunk and disorderly ex-husband.

  She looked him square in the eye. Are you sure about that?

  I am sure.

  What about two wild fifteen-year-old boys? Genevieve asked.

  They are good kids. I look forward to getting to know them.

  And a badly behaved bichon frise?

  She has extremely good aim.

  And me? A forty-year-old, jobless, menopausal crone?

  Lucio would not laugh at her, no matter how preposterous she sounded. Ridicule was the last thing she needed. So he turned and gathered Genevieve into his arms, pressed her head to his shoulder, and held her tight against him.

  Be still, Genevieve, he whispered to her. Lean against me and be still a moment.

  Lucio inhaled the sweet fragrance of her hair, smiling to himself. Who, really, had he been advising with those words? Genevieve, or himself? Lucio felt her heart beat against him and her breath against his neck. Could it be that after all the years of adventureall the exotic locations he'd seen and all the people he'd encounteredthat he'd finally found a place where he wanted to be still? All he knew was there had never been a woman who touched his heart the way Genevieve had, or presented a challenge that called to him so clearly.

  He could feel the upheaval as it swept through him. The elements
of his universe were being jumbled, rearranged. Right at that moment.

  Possibly forever.

  Of course there would be his work. There would always be his work. He could not imagine a world without the light and the lens. There was his reputation to save, the Erskine Prize to hold in his hands, and money to make. And soon, he would track down whoever had messed with him and get the justice he deserved.

  But all those things had just been bumped down in importance, replaced by this beautiful woman with the damaged spirit and two boys on the verge of manhood.

  Genevieve's ex-husband had it so very wrong. Jason and Joshua did need a father figure in their livesone who wasn't a self-centered buffoon. Genevieve most definitely needed the touch of a man who adored her, the encouragement of a man who believed in her. Perhaps then she'd be able to see her own strength and beauty.

  But the last thing Lucio intended to do was step into Larry's pissed-upon shoes.

  He would make his own way.

  CHAPTER 8

  About a half hour later, Lucio finished the last of his espresso. The sun had set, leaving the backyard in shadows. Ginger knew the boys would be busting through the front door at any minute and she was fidgety. She could barely look at Lucio sitting there, across from her at the outdoor patio table, his dark eyes penetrating her soul, his long and muscular body stretched out in one of her wrought-iron chairs.

  I really wish you didn't have to go, she told him, her voice sounding embarrassingly breathless.

  I don't want to go, but I think it's best if I don't force my presence on your sons. I don't want them to feel threatened in any way.

  She sighed, knowing she should be grateful that Lucio was concerned about her sons' well-being. He was a sweet man. So kind. So understanding. So why did she want to scream?

  Because if she didn't get his naked sex-panther body in her bed in the next five minutes she'd die.

  No! Keep it together, Ginger. She ran a hand across her forehead in angst. How horrible would it be for her sons to come home and hear her squealing and panting in pleasure, behind her locked bedroom door? Because that's what she'd be doingno question about it. With Lucio Montevez, there would be plenty of squealing and panting involved.

  She began to perspire. Another hot flash, no doubt.

  We have plenty of time, bonita. Lucio brushed his fingertip down her forearm. We will take our time with each other, savor each other. The next time your sons are staying with their father, we will spend the entire day togetherthe entire weekend. We will start this right.

  Naked. Hot and thoroughly naked and pushing up against her, nudging hard into her body.

  Ginger let out a desperate little squeak.

  I am impatient, too, Lucio said, cradling her hand. But how many times have we gotten started only to have to stop? The Host! If that happens one more time I think I will explode!

  Ginger swallowed. Tell me about it. I'm afraid if that happens again something will break and it will never work right again.

  Lucio laughed. The sound of his laughter was one of the most joyous things Ginger had ever heard. She wanted to wrap herself up in his laugh and roll around in it. Naked.

  Stop!

  She groaned in exasperation as she got up from the patio table. Maybe you should just go. She gathered the demitasse cups and saucers and they rattled around in her unsteady grip. This is torture. I'm coming unglued.

  Ginger headed into the house, Lucio following. He held open the French doors for her, and she could feel the energy zapping from his body into hers, the way it did whenever he was close. And he was very close at that moment. Inches from her back. This was crazy, she thought. She walked faster. She reached the kitchen counter. He was still right behind her.

  She set the dishes in the sink. He was on her. Up against her. She felt his hands cup her hips, then slide across her belly, his palms and fingers cradling her. She felt him, hard and long and pressing up against her bottom.

  I will say good night, then. He whispered into her ear. I cannot have you tonight, but I want you to think of me as you fall asleep. I want you to dream of me. Can you do that, Genevieve?

  Sure, she squeaked. I'll give it a try.

  He chuckled into her ear, and the movement of his body caused his erection to jump around on her butt. She could do nothing but lean her head back onto his shoulder in surrender. Her knees were wobbly again. Swooning was inevitable. The only thing that kept her upright was the pressure of his hands against her lower belly, and the support of his body behind her.

  I want you to dream of me being all over you, pelirroja. I'm going to gather you up, eat you, slurp you, kiss you, nibble on you, get my fingers and tongue up inside you.

  She mewled.

  Then I'm going to take you, Genevieve.

  Her knees began to give out. His hands caught her, grabbing hold of her breasts, and she slid lower.

  Ohmigod, she breathed.

  The phone rang.

  Lucio helped her regain her footing. Ginger somehow managed to stumble to the cordless phone on the kitchen table. Her eyes flashed to Lucio as she picked it up and answered.

  Hello?

  Mom, it's Jason.

  Hey, honey. She turned away from Lucio's dark stare. She couldn't take its intensityboth her breath and heartbeat were erratic. Is everything okay with your dad?

  He's passed out in bed.

  My God, is he breathing?

  Snoring.

  Oh. That's good.

  So we were wondering, do you think we could stay over here tonight with him?

  Ginger spun around, catching Lucio staring at her ass. She didn't mind. Not one bit.

  Mom?

  Uh-huh?

  Is that okay? I know it's supposed to be your night, but Josh and I figured Dad should have someone with him. He's blubbering about some chick who dumped him.

  Ginger's eyes went wide in comprehension. The boys weren't coming back tonight! She and Lucio were free to'

  Mom?

  Lucio swept his eyes up the front of her body, taking his time, then locked his gaze with hers. He smiled at her, sliding one hand into a front jeans pocket.

  Oh, yeah, Ginger whispered into the phone.

  Is everything all right? You sound kind of weird.

  Lucio took a few steps toward her. She leaned back against the stove.

  Everything's fine, she said. Great.

  Okay, so we'll see you tomorrow?

  Sure. See you tomorrow.

  Lucio immediately got itthe rules had just changed. His smile disappeared. His gaze darkened and his eyelids lowered to half-mast. He began to advance toward her, with a purpose. He was stalking her, his body coiled and ready, her own personal sexual panther about to move in for the kill.

  The next time you see Lucio, would you ask him when I can start as his assistant?

  Ginger gulped. Absolutely, she managed, not sure for how many more seconds she'd be capable of speech. The pit of her stomach ached with need. She tingled between her legs. Her nipples were hard and poking at the fabric of her blouse. She'd begun to pant. She decided she might as well have been wearing a nametag that said, hello, my name is ginger and i'm in heat.

  Are you working out on the treadmill, Mom?

  Huh? Ginger began to slide her bottom across the front of the stove, along the edge of the countertop, then around the corner into the dining room. She took a few steps backward, holding the phone to her ear with a shaky hand.

  Are you exercising? You sound out of breath.

  Yeah. That's great, honey. I love you guys and I'll see you both tomorrow. Click. She blindly tossed the phone behind her in the vicinity of the dining room table.

  ?Donde esta tu cuarto? Lucio asked, his voice calm and low.

  Ginger blinked. Where's my what?

  He chuckled softly, stepping closer still. Your bedroom. Where is it?

  Upstairs, she said, hoping she'd remembered the layout of her home accurately.

  Are you ready for me?


  Her breath was coming way too fast now. She figured her heartbeat might be within the normal range for a hummingbird but not a human being. She couldn't answer.

  Lucio's grin widened. Do you want me, Genevieve? If you do not, just say so, and I will go.

  She swallowed. I want you bad, she said.

  Lucio nodded. He held out his hand to her.

  It didn't take long for Ginger to realize that Lucio's approach to sex was as foreign as his accent.

  After all that heavy breathing and teasing and stalking downstairs, when they'd gotten upstairs he seemed distant. He'd told her to wait a moment and keep her clothes on, then disappeared into the master bath. That had been ten minutes ago. The whole time, Ginger had been sitting on the edge of the bed, wondering what was going on.

  She heard water running and cabinet doors opening and closing, which indicated Lucio was taking a shower. There wasn't anything wrong with a man wanting to be clean before sex, she figured. She couldn't exactly fault him for having impeccable hygiene. Maybe it was a Spanish thing, though she'd never heard that Europeans were fanatical about personal cleanliness. But it did make her feel strange, just sitting there on the edge of her bed, waiting, fully clothed, her pulse restored to normal, the moment gone.

  Lucio?

  Just another minute, please. Do not move, mi amor.

  Ginger looked around her bedroom, feeling like a little girl who'd been put in the corner. What are you doing in there?

  The bathroom door opened a crack. You can come in now.

  Ginger got up from the bed and walked across the room. He held the door open for her and she immediately saw what he'd been up to.

  The Jacuzzi tub was filling with warm water and bubbles. The lights were off and every candle she'd stored in the linen closet was lit, its flickering reflected on the wall of mirrors over the double sink. The blinds were drawn.

  Oh, Ginger breathed.

  Lucio chuckled, coming nearer. What did you think I was doing in here, bonita?

  I wasn't sure, Ginger said, embarrassed. Suddenly, she didn't feel like much of a seductress. She felt silly. Unsure of herself. It had been so long since anyone had gone to this much trouble to set the scene for her that it felt like overkill.