The Sextet Presents... Playing in the Raine [A Toy Story] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour)

by Mellanie Szereto

  “Me too. I’m not crazy about using poison to get rid of them, either. Gets into the groundwater.” He tried for a sheepish half smile as they ascended the hill leading to the water lily pond. “Sorry. Environmentalist in my free time. Not a fanatic, just aware and active.”

  “That’s a good thing. Do you volunteer with the town’s new planting projects?”

  “Yeah, how’d you know about that? Most people haven’t heard about it yet. The official announcement goes to press on—”

  “—Monday. I’m on the planning commission. The mayor and I started discussing the need for community involvement last fall. We contacted a couple suppliers to see if they’d be willing to donate some plants and trees to green up the business district. With the wetter-than-normal spring, we had to postpone some of the projects until September and October.”

  As they started down the stone steps of the walkway around the Japanese garden, he slipped his fingers through hers. The action seemed natural, felt right. “Careful. The stairs can be slippery. You’re on the planning commission. What do you do for your day job?”

  She tightened her grip on his hand, making his pulse skyrocket. “I’m a civil engineer for the state. What do you plan to do with a PhD in philosophy?”

  He let out an impressed whistle. “An engineer? Give me ethical issues to solve, but the math? No, thanks. I got an offer for a tenure-track position about a forty-minute commute from here.”

  Her grin surprised him. “Cool. I’ve never dated a college professor before. Do I have to call you doctor?”

  He laughed at her teasing. “Only if you take one of my classes. I find the whole thing a bit pretentious myself. Um, you’re not a PhD too, are you?”

  A flush of pink flooded her pale neck and cheeks. “Well, yeah. But you don’t have to call me doctor, either.”

  She was too damn perfect to be real. Would she run screaming the other direction when he, Matt, and Vince told her the truth about why they’d placed the ads? Hell, a fair number of people still had problems with the kind of relationship they had. Three guys and one woman? Not exactly a traditional arrangement.

  Rounding the end of the lily pond, Rafe smothered the urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her. “Ready to head to the butterfly garden? I brought a blanket, or we can sit on one of the benches.”

  “Sure. The blanket’s fine.” Raine’s pace matched his as they hiked along the ridge to the space filled with flowering shrubs and plants. “The best place for a picnic is at the—”

  “—edge of the woods. Close enough to smell the flowers and watch the butterflies and far enough away the bees won’t bother us.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “Finishing each other’s sentences isn’t supposed to happen on first dates.”

  Unless you’ve met the right person to complete your near-perfect love life. “We’re just on the same wavelength. The same thing happened the first time I fell in love.”

  Ignoring the tiny spark of jealousy, Raine tugged her hand free of Rafe’s and jogged toward the tree line. Thirty-eight years old and she’d never fallen in love. How had she gotten halfway through life without experiencing it? She’d been in lust several times, but not a single man had desired her for more than a casual bed partner, ending their association just as she considered taking the next step.

  “In the sun or in the shade?” She turned to see Rafe set down the basket and pull out a plaid blanket. Had any man ever asked her preference? Not that she recalled.

  “In the sun is fine. I don’t go anywhere without my SPF fifty.” She grasped one side of the blanket to spread it on the ground. “I’d rather be ghostly white than ghastly red.”

  Straightening a corner, he shot her another of those fantastic smiles. “Alabaster. You have beautiful skin.”

  This guy could sweet-talk a lemon. She could easily fall head over backside into infatuation if she wasn’t so cynical. She plopped down, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Ghostly white, alabaster. My skin by any name is still pale. The curse of the redhead.”

  “You call it a curse, I call you breathtaking.” He sat across from her and began unpacking the basket. “If you’ll hold the wineglasses, I’ll pour. Soft red okay?” She nodded when he held up the bottle. “I brought pears and strawberries, Brie and Camembert, and a couple kinds of crackers. I hope you’re hungry.”

  Yes, she was hungry all right. The man showered her in compliments and wanted to give her wonderful cheeses and her favorite fruits. She wanted to thank him with a week of blow jobs. No first-date nookie. “You’re a gourmet chef in addition to a philosopher and an environmentalist, right?”

  His gaze shifted to a butterfly hovering over his knee. “I don’t have any formal training, but I like to cook.”

  Modesty. A quality she seldom saw in the men she had dated. Most were egotistical, narcissistic, and vain. “Please tell me you like to clean house and do windows too.”

  He looked to the sky and laughed. “Sorry, I hate to clean house. But I don’t mind doing laundry.”

  A ridiculously random thought popped into her head. She tried to hold in her giggle, but it bubbled out and multiplied, disrupting the flow of her words. “Um…did you know…laundry is…a euphemism for…um, masturbation?”

  Lying back on the blanket, he belly-laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. “Raine, you are by far the most interesting woman I’ve ever met. And I mean that in the best way. You are truly special.”

  No man had told her she was special before Matt and Rafe. She might’ve fantasized about having both of them, but sooner or later she’d have to choose. They wouldn’t agree to share her. Men were territorial. How could she pick one over the other? Both made her heart beat faster and seemed to really like her for who she was. She liked both of them. Shit, I’m in trouble.

  By the time they finished their picnic and walked back to the greenhouse parking lot, she wanted to cry at the unfairness. Twenty years of dating users and losers, and she broke the cycle by meeting two incredible men in two days. Don’t forget Vince tomorrow. Yep, she was in major trouble, especially if he was the third in the trio of coffee shop guys. Her fantasy would have a chance at reality.

  “I enjoyed meeting and talking with you, Raine.” Rafe’s smile lit up his blue eyes. “I’d like to see you again. Will you go rollerblading in the park with me Saturday afternoon?”

  Her belly flip-flopped. “Yeah. Sounds like fun. I enjoyed meeting you too.”

  He leaned in, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and lightly kissing her on the lips. “I have a lunch meeting at twelve. How about if we meet at the bottom of the sledding hill at one?”

  Lifting her fingers to her ecstatic mouth, she nodded. What reaction would her body have to a real kiss from him? “See you then, Rafe.”

  Walking backward a couple steps, he grinned. “See you then, Raine. Drive safely.”

  She watched him turn and walk to his car before she climbed into her own and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She was going to have to haul out the big guns when she got home.

  Chapter 6

  A quick check of the kitchen proved fruitless, so Rafe strode to the living room and took the stairs two at a time, finally stopping at the door to Matt’s studio. He lifted his hand to knock but hesitated. Should they talk about Raine without Vince? Damn it, he needed to share his feelings with someone, and Vince hadn’t met her yet.

  He rapped his knuckles on the door.

  “I’m busy. What is it?” Matt sounded as frustrated as Rafe felt.

  “Can I come in, Matty?”

  The footfalls on the other side of the door drew closer. The door opened. Matt looked at him for several seconds, seeming to read his thoughts. “She’s the one, isn’t she?”

  Following Matty into the room, he closed the door behind him. “Too fucking perfect for words. Vince is going to have a stroke when he sees her. I get why you wanted to talk last night.”

  Matt shrugged, picking up his palette and bru
sh. “You were right. One of us slips up, and she’s history. Besides, painting turned out to be a pretty effective outlet. I’m working on an oil of her.”

  Sitting on the stool by the door, Rafe resisted asking to see the new paintings. If Matt wanted him to look, he’d offer. Sometimes, the products were too personal to share.

  Rolling a brush in a brown glob, Matty lifted it to the canvas. “I don’t think we should talk about her yet. Let’s wait until Vin meets her. Maybe you can get a concerto out of the cello tonight. She sure as hell inspired me.”

  Dismissed? Rafe hid his irritation behind a smile. “See you in the morning.”

  He pushed to his feet and left, closing the door behind him. Instead of heading downstairs to bed, he aimed for the room at the end of the hall. His room. At least a week had passed since he’d set foot in it. His cello stood on its cradle in the corner, draped in a sheet to protect it from dust. The music stand held staff paper and a couple pencils.

  Crossing the room, he removed the cover and hefted the cello from its holder. He settled in his chair, his ears ready to listen for a flat or sharp tone in the strings. One by one, he tightened and loosened the pegs until the instrument was in tune. Gliding the bow over the strings, he closed his eyes and lost himself in the music.

  * * * *

  Vince rolled onto his back, trying to get comfortable. The serenade from upstairs should’ve put him to sleep an hour ago, but he wasn’t used to sleeping alone. He’d shared a bed with Matt and Rafe for almost two years—always one or the other, if not both. They all had their I-need-to-be-alone moments, just never at the same time. Raine had cast a spell on his lovers.

  Sitting up to lean against the pillows, he rubbed his roiling stomach. First-date nerves ate at his insides. When was the last time he’d been so worked up about a woman? Seventeen. Junior prom. Not that his date had been more than an underdressed, over-made-up girl. Their personal-ad female had a hell of a lot more charisma than sixteen-year-old JC Hanes to put Rafe and Matt into such artistic stupors. Maybe they’d made a mistake, thinking they could bring a woman into their relationship. Or at least this one. Fuck. Maybe I should cancel.

  He shoved his hands through his hair. The situation was his fault. He’d been the one to suggest they needed more. Making love to a body with tits and a pussy would satisfy him on a physical level, but what about love? Would she drive him and his partners apart? Too many doubts.

  An image of a red-haired siren with emerald eyes singed the insides of his eyelids. She was the problem. No matter what he did, that vision of walking flawlessness invaded his thoughts. He didn’t want Raine, even if she seemed interesting and appealing. He’d fallen for a woman he’d seen once for all of about eight seconds. Meeting anyone else was pointless. Yeah, he should cancel.

  Climbing halfway out of bed, he reached for the dresser and the glowing light on the power cord of his laptop. He popped up the screen, blinking at the sudden brightness. The wireless connection kicked in, and he logged into his e-mail account. One new message. He opened his in-box. PlayingInTheRaine. Of course. Had she saved him the trouble of breaking their date? He clicked on the envelope icon.

  Vince, I’m looking forward to meeting you tomorrow. Go to the traveling exhibit on the second floor. I’ll be waiting for you by the sculptures. Raine.

  “Reply.” The cursor ticked off the seconds as he tried to compose his rejection. By the sculptures. How the hell could he break a date with someone who took an interest in his passion? If he could combine her personality and likes with the body of his redhead…Damn it.

  I’m looking forward to meeting you too, Raine. By the sculptures. Vince.

  “Send.” He waited for confirmation of the sent message, fighting mixed emotions. How could he have a visceral connection to one woman and an intellectual attraction to another? Throw in a commitment to two men he loved, and he had a mess, not to mention a hard cock. All jacked up and no place to go. With Matt and Rafe holed up in their private sanctuaries, his hand offered the only relief.

  Shutting down his computer, he set it back on the dresser and got comfortable against the pillows. His palm rubbed circles over his lower abs then up and across his pecs. He teased his inner thigh with his other hand, working closer and closer to his balls. Quick back and forth flicks on his sensitive nipples sent fire running to his dick. Did Raine and his auburn-haired beauty know men’s little nubs liked attention as much as women’s tempting berries? Rafe was an expert at driving him crazy with titty play.

  His fingers eased toward the smooth strip of skin between his nuts and his asshole. He’d love to have Matt’s thick erection pushing into him from behind. Running his thumb up the ridge of his cock to the slit, he gathered a taste of leaking fluid and licked it. A downward stroke. Then up again. And down. He squeezed his sac. Would his fantasy lady enjoy sucking his nuts? Of course she would.

  Massaging his balls, he edged his other hand down to pump his dick. His abdominals shuddered, a pre-ejaculation warning of impending orgasm. Did Raine like going down on guys? A sudden contraction in his scrotum sent a rush of cum shooting from his slit, forcing a hoarse cry from his throat. A flood of lightheadedness shattered his thoughts.

  “Fuck!” He panted through the racing of his pulse in his ears. His heart pounded in his chest. The vision of his lovers and the pair of women pleasuring him burned into his brain.

  Was one woman enough?

  * * * *

  Pacing her living room floor, Raine glanced at the clock on the wall. Wonderful. I have to get up for work in four hours, and I haven’t slept a wink. She plopped on the couch and lifted her computer onto her lap. Neither Matt nor Rafe had e-mailed her since her dates with them. As of an hour ago, Vince hadn’t replied to the message she’d sent him before she’d attempted to go to bed the first time.

  She typed in the password for her PlayingInTheRaine account. One last check and then another try at sleeping. A new message. Her stomach somersaulted. Was it from one of her younger men? Clicking on her in-box, she bit her lower lip and held her breath. VNiccolo. Vince. Her insides twisted tighter. Click.

  I’m looking forward to meeting you too, Raine. By the sculptures. Vince.

  He still wanted to meet her, and none of them had asked her age yet. How long could she put off telling them she was at least a decade older than each of them? Would they even care? Gads, she hated the uncertainty Gil-the-slimeball had instigated. She didn’t look or feel old. I’m not old!

  Shutting down her laptop, she headed to bed, determined to get some sleep. The pillow cradled her head and she closed her eyes, but her mind refused to shift into rest mode. The new state park project. The diversion of traffic from the west side of the Columbus Bypass during exit- and entrance-ramp reconstruction. The impact study on the expansion of rural highway between Marietta and Zanesville. Vince. Rafe. Matt. Young, younger, youngest. Gahhh!

  If she rolled over and buried her head under the pillow, would she pass out from lack of oxygen and finally sleep? With her luck, she’d probably suffocate and die.

  Fine. I give up. Scooting to the edge of the bed, she stood and stretched. Twelve hours on the job would become sixteen today. She didn’t have anything better to do than work until her trip to the art museum this evening anyway. Maybe once she found out if Vince was the third man in the coffee shop trio, her nerves would calm. Not likely. Because then she’d have to decide whether or not to confront the men who clearly knew each other and had to be aware of the personal ads they’d all placed. Would they deny setting her up? Were they perverts looking for a gangbang victim?

  If she had to wager a guess, she’d have to say no. She was usually a pretty good judge of character, and they seemed to genuinely like her. Forget work. I need a plan in case…in case what? They want to share me? Or possibly if she wanted them to share her? Well, that almost went without saying. Think, brain, think!

  Chapter 7

  Kicking off her pumps, Raine plunked on the stool at the breakfast b
ar with a salad and half a glass of red wine. Enough food to take the edge off her hunger and enough wine to put her to sleep for an hour-long nap. Hopefully, her dark circles wouldn’t stand out too obviously against her pale skin. She’d gladly forgo her daily workout to avoid letting exhaustion make her look every minute of her thirty-eight and five-twelfths years.

  She poked at the mix of spinach, tomatoes, and feta cheese until her stomach stopped cannibalizing itself, and she downed a last swallow of wine. Not bothering with the dishes, she dragged herself to her bedroom, stripping out of her suit before collapsing on the mattress. Alarm. I’ll never wake up without an alarm.

  Levering up on her elbow, she reached for the clock on the nightstand. 6:00 PM. She turned up the volume to high so she’d be sure to hear it. Her vision blurred from sleepy, watery eyes, and she surrendered to a huge yawn. Nap time.

  * * * *

  Raine’s heart pounded in her chest as she hurried up the steps to the art museum. She detested lateness, and here she was, having to run to the designated meeting place to arrive on time. Vince was probably checking his watch as he stood by the sculptures of the traveling South African art exhibit. The bell tower began singing its hourly tune beyond the entrance to the building, the sound pushing her to go faster. Bong, bong, bong.

  She rushed to the staircase in the lobby. The last of the seven muffled chimes rang out as she ascended the top step of the second floor. She had a clear line of sight to the display where she’d asked Vince to meet her. A dozen or more people had gathered in the area, and she scanned the crowd for a twenty-something grad student. Short, bald, and wearing a suit turned. Dr. Mifflin. His wife stood next to him, chatting with a professor from the English Department and the dean of the College of Fine Arts. More faculty, husbands, wives, and significant others, but no twenty-eight-year-old math PhD.

  Crossing to a teak statuette of a woman with a baby at her breast and a basket balanced on her head, she glanced into the corners of the room she hadn’t been able to see from her previous position. He wasn’t there. Should she be relieved he hadn’t had to wait for her? Or should she be perturbed because he was late?