by Diane Roth
"Yeah, no more late night booty call," she said wistfully. "Damn."
He rolled them over until she was beneath him and looking up into his eyes. "What about early morning booty call?" He flexed his hips, making it perfectly clear he was cocked and primed for such. "Think I could sneak in after they're off to school?" he asked, nuzzling her ear with his warm breath.
"That's a very tempting offer you're making, Mr. Brooks."
His tongue swirled into the shell of her ear, making her breath catch in her throat. "Temptation is just one of my specialties," he murmured, flexing against her in the best possible place. "There are others, too."
Damn, he was so good at this. "I might be interested in examining your entire portfolio of offerings, sir," she said, growing more breathless.
"That can certainly be arranged," he said, and took her mouth in a blistering kiss that put a stop to all conversation.
She cooked him breakfast of pancakes and bacon while he showered, then they lingered over coffee, talking about everything but what was uppermost in her mind.
"Guess I'd better get to work. I've been really unproductive for the past few weeks. Need to honestly earn my living for a change," he said.
"I doubt that. I know how hard you work." She rose, placing her plate in the sink and he followed, placing his there as well. He pinned her in, his hands on the countertop on either side of her. She turned around and looped her arms around his neck and raised up to tip toe to kiss his mouth.
When she pulled back, she recognized the smolder in his eyes. "My word, but you're insatiable. Are you always so ... so--" she broke off, not really knowing what to call it.
"Horny?" he supplied with a knowing grin.
"Well, yes, as a matter of fact. "
He chuckled and swiped another quick kiss from her mouth. "Only for you, Sunshine."
She cut her eyes at him, dubious, but charmed with the thought nonetheless. "Go to work, Gregory."
He gave her backside a parting squeeze. "Talk to you later," he said.
"Bye." She watched him go, and wondered how she was going to do without a steady supply of this man after life resumed tomorrow. It was going to present a challenge, for certain.
Later that morning as she made the bed, she found her panties adorning the lamp shade on the night table and had to chuckle. He'd pitched them aside last night in haste, and that must have been where they landed. Wouldn't that have been something to explain had one of her children spied them before her? She took a picture of it, typed a message and sent it to him.
Thinking of you.
He replied immediately.
You are not helping my productivity one bit, lady. Besides, I think you're just after my "entire portfolio of offerings".
She grinned as she typed her reply.
Damn right, I am.
It took him no time to reply.
Well, at least you're honest. Call you later, Sunshine.
He called late that afternoon. "This is Mr. Brooks with Supreme Satisfaction Portfolio Investments. Is this the lady of the house?" he asked, all sexy voiced. She could imagine the grin he wore.
"Why, yes. Yes, indeed, this is the lady of the house."
"Ma'am, it's come to my attention that you might be in need of some new strategy to, uh ... stimulate your assets," he said, drawing it out. "I feel I have precisely what you've been looking for. Prime stuff, ma'am. I'm talkin' something with hot possibilities that will pump deeply into your accounts until you are thoroughly satisfied."
"Oh, my. That sounds very excitin'. But I'm not very knowledgeable in this area, kind sir. It might require a few sessions to help me get a firm grip on all this," she said, putting a lot of airy breath in her voice and souping up the Texas twang a little.
"Hot damn!" he said, making her giggle, then he cleared his throat and recovered his mien. "Ahem ... I mean, well, no problem, ma'am. I'm happy to oblige you until you're thoroughly satisfied."
"Satisfaction guaranteed, sir?"
"You can bet your little scrap 'o lace panties on it, Sweet Cheeks."
"The problem with that, Mr. Brooks, is that, at this moment, I don't seem to be wearing any panties," she purred.
There was silence on the other end for a moment. "Caroline, that just delayed your dinner, darlin'," he said, dropping all pretense. "I was going to ask if I could take you to dinner, but now there's a big fat problem. I'm not fit for public perusal right now after thinking about your lack of panties and obliging you until your satisfaction is guaranteed. I'm not fit but for one thing right now, darlin'."
"Oh, good. That's how I like you best," she said.
"Well, all I can say is it's a darn good thing you like me this way since you elicit such strong gains in my portfolio."
She laughed in her throat, something between a chuckle and a moan. "It sounds like this might take a while. Hope you're not all that hungry."
"Only for you, babe."
"Good. I'll meet you in the shower. Sound good?"
"Sounds perfect. Be there in ten minutes," he said, and she thought she might have heard him gun it as he was disconnecting.
Chapter Seven
Barbara hadn't been able to let it go, the fact that she'd been on her Single Seniors cruise during Cara and Greg's shared birthday, and invited the whole family over to her house for dinner the Wednesday evening after everyone's return home from their various summer travels. She also invited Etta, and Maddie asked if she could bring her friend, Bella, since the BFF's had been separated for weeks and had so much catching up to do. Thus, the evening promised to be a lively one.
Cara had a mixed bag of expectations regarding the evening. She usually loved these family gatherings, looked forward to the laughter and teasing of the teenagers, the inside family jokes that one seemed never able to live down, and the good food, good wine and familial bonding that cemented them all together. It was as gooey as a Hallmark holiday commercial on television, and Cara ate that stuff up.
But this time, she had all sorts of misgivings. It would be the first time she and Greg would spend any time together with the other family members, namely Cara's children, who were so finely attuned to their mother's moods and needs until it wasn't exactly healthy. She wasn't certain she'd be able to hide her feelings for Greg from her kids. And even if she did manage to pull off the impossible, there was always Etta to step in and pick it plumb to death, Cara figured. Already, she'd been gently snooping around, asking Cara leading questions about whether she and Greg had done the deed yet. For reasons that weren't completely clear, Cara didn't feel like sharing yet, and had done her best to remain cagey and noncommittal whenever Etta questioned her. But she'd be all over them tonight, watching every perceived longing look and happenstance touch and taking it apart for its deeper meaning. She'd let Cara know she was doing it, too, upping the stress factor for Cara big time.
Yes, there was little to look forward to this evening. Well, little except getting to see Greg. In the past ten days, they'd stolen a grand total of ninety minutes at his house for a quick nooner one day, and talked on the phone every night before bed, just wistful and frustrated and longing to be together. And Greg was already putting subtle pressure on Cara to let everyone in on their relationship status. Very subtle, but there, nonetheless. Cara knew it was bound to be a high-strung evening at Barbara's tonight.
And it was.
For starters, Greg came in wearing those soft, faded, thigh-hugging, lust-inducing jeans Cara loved so much, and it made her want to say, "Excuse us, everyone, for a moment while I take Uncle Greg into the bathroom for a quickie." The thought made her smile a secret little smile that garnered a hawkish and suspicious look from Etta and a very interested almost grin from Greg across the room, the devil. He knew good and well what those jeans did to her. Her kids, at least, seemed oblivious to it all.
They shared stories during dinner, telling about their interesting travel experiences of the summer. Barbara had indeed met a man from Houston while on her
cruise, and they were communicating via email and getting to know one another a little better.
"So you met your 'Hottie' after all, didn't you, Nana?" Maddie teased her grandmother.
"You bet I did. Told you I was going to try," Barbara replied, making all the teenagers do that giggling groan thing.
"I think Mom oughta go on one of those cruises. Maybe she'd get herself a boyfriend," Maddie said, but didn't dare to look up from the dinner roll she was eating with her fingers.
Suddenly all eyes were on Cara, and she stopped chewing ... sat stone still, her wide-eyed gaze going round the table to find them all waiting for her response. She rolled her eyes dismissively. "And what would I do with a boyfriend?" she asked, scoffing at them.
Etta rolled her own dark brown eyes. "Girl, you ain't been a widow that long. Surely you ain't forgot."
Greg found that amusing across the table, if his stifled grin was any indication, but he shoveled in another mouthful of mashed potatoes and kept his eyes downcast.
"Oh, I can assure you, it comes back to you rather quickly, even if you have forgotten," Barbara said ever so matter-of-factly. It took them all about five seconds to register that she'd actually said it, and they began laughing hysterically. Greg had a hard time swallowing the mashed potatoes, and Ryan fell right out of his chair onto the dining room parquet floor in paroxysms of laughter.
"Well, of course, I don't mean that thing. Just flirting and stuff, you know," Barbara clarified. She actually blushed, not having meant to say something of that nature, especially in front of her grandchildren and guests, but it was out, and there was no taking it back. Slowly, the laughter began to subside, everyone breathing hard and holding their stomachs. Ryan finally found the strength of climb back into his chair.
"Well, well, well, Nana ... you are just full of surprises lately," Ryan told her.
"I can see that you all think so, but I'll thank you to remember that, while I may be old, I am not yet dead," she said, her nose a smidge out of joint at being the butt of their joke.
"Yeah, somebody else ought to remember that, too," Etta said, and cut her eyes at Cara.
"Yeah, Mom ... you need to find yourself a boyfriend," Maddie said.
"Shut up, Mad," Ryan said, losing all signs of his earlier amusement. In fact, his tone was bordering on surly.
Maddie looked surprised at his rudeness. "What's your problem, Ryan?" she asked.
"I don't have a problem. But you're always sayin' stuff like that to Mom. If she wants a man in her life, she'll get one. Quit pushin'," he said, then seemed resigned. "Besides, I think she already has one."
"Really?" Maddie asked, looking back and forth between her brother and mother.
All heads snapped back to look at Cara again, and she truly felt like a bug under a microscope.
"What makes you say that, Ryan?" Cara asked, deflecting.
Ryan cocked an eyebrow and shrugged lightly, mixing arrogance and miffed really well in his expression. "You've been in a pretty good mood all summer and you're always wearing makeup and fixing your hair." He shrugged again. "And I hear you talking real low on the phone every night."
"Are you eavesdropping on me?" she asked, indignant with the thought.
He frowned at her, as only teenagers can do at their embarrassing parents. "Um, your room is right below mine. Can't help but hear you talking," he said, as if she might be dense.
"It doesn't mean you have to listen," Cara said, employing the exact same tone.
"I can't make out what you're saying, only that you're talking. And giggling a lot. Seems suspicious to me."
The room grew awkwardly quiet.
No one said a word.
The grandfather clock in the foyer sounded the half-hour with an inordinately loud gong.
"Well, are you going to tell?" Greg asked.
Cara's head snapped up so fast she went dizzy, and she pinned a fierce look on him across the table. "Tell what?" she asked through gritted teeth, hoping beyond all else he wouldn't choose this moment to unleash on the family.
"Yeah. We're all dying to know, Mom," Maddie said. "Tell us."
Cara attempted to slow her furiously beating heart. She laughed lightly and moved some food around on her plate with her fork. "There's nothing to tell, you guys."
Maddie looked unconvinced. "Uncle Greg seems to think there is."
Cara sent him another reproving look across the way. "Uncle Greg is teasing me."
"Mmm huh," Etta murmured, and wiped her mouth with her napkin, then folded it just so and laid it on the table. "That's what I thought," she said, but Cara knew that was not at all what Etta was thinking.
Greg got up and took his plate into the kitchen, and it seemed to break the mood of inquisition. Cara was exceedingly thankful to be out from under the microscope. She hadn't any idea what to expect of Greg after the exchange. It was his manner to be honest and above board about things. Too much trouble to hide stuff, he would probably tell her. And that would probably be true. But for now, she felt like she'd dodged a bullet. And she now knew that her kids were even more perceptive than she'd given them credit for being. She sighed and took her own plate to the kitchen.
Greg was scraping and rinsing plates before loading them into the dishwasher. She offered him her plate but didn't let go of it when he would have taken it from her. It forced him to look at her, and she suddenly wished he hadn't. There was too, too much in those handsome green eyes looking back at her, and a lot of it was painful to see.
"It wasn't the right time, Greg," she said.
"It was a perfect opening," he argued, his expression full of irritation and impatience.
She sighed again and went back into the dining room to retrieve more dishes. The others were filtering into the kitchen as well, so nothing more was said, but she felt his mood deteriorating, and it made her heart hurt. Already this was growing too deceitful for her comfort level. And yet, she couldn't think of breaking things off with him.
The kids prepared to leave in Maddie's car as soon as they'd devoured Nana's delicious homemade birthday cake. They planned to take advantage of the last days of summer vacation to see a late movie. "I might spend the night at Connor's tonight, Mom," Ryan called as they made for the door. "He's meeting us at the movies."
" 'Might' is not a plan, Ryan. Call or text after the movie to let me know for certain," Cara told him in her serious momma voice.
"Yeah, yeah ... I got it," he said, as if he'd heard it far too frequently, then followed the girls out the front door.
Etta laughed at the exchange between mother and son. "Lawd, but that is a hot mess of unspent energy and hormones gettin' in that car. How you sleep at night, baby?" she asked Cara.
"With one eye open, I assure you," Cara said. "I probably won't ever sleep again when he starts driving. It was bad enough when Maddie got her license. But add a heaping dose of testosterone, and my sleeping days are over as soon as Ryan gets his."
"Gotta let them grow up sometime, Caroline," Greg said, and she had the feeling he wasn't talking about driving, but he didn't bother to look at her, so it was hard to be certain. He sat across the room, petulant and angry, one knee sprawled wide across the upholstered arm of the chair, and he reminded her of Ryan in one of his moods.
"I'm doing my best to keep them alive, Gregory," she said, sounding a little more snippy than she intended, but his veiled innuendo was about to piss her right off.
"They might surprise you with their maturity, given half a chance," he said, and finally deigned to look at her. It wasn't good, that look he gave her. Fueled by two weeks of sexual frustration and her refusal to tell the truth about their relationship, his anger was simmering right under the surface in a slow boil. Cara read it quite easily now, but there was more, as well. Hurt? Distrust? She couldn't say, and even as she studied him across the room, he began to shutter his emotion.
"Oh, and suddenly you're the parenting authority?" It was a low blow, she knew, but he'd pushed her buttons once to
o often tonight.
Etta got up from the sofa. "Well, y'all can stay and duke it out, but I'm taking my behind to the house. Got to get my full eight, you know what I'm sayin'?" Cara recognized she was trying to break the mood, and while the effort was appreciated, it was futile at this point.
"Sure, Etta. Thanks for coming," Barbara told her, rising to see her out.
Cara didn't bother to get up, too distracted by anger to attend to the niceties. "Night, Etta. Thanks for coming. See you tomorrow," she called half-heartedly.
"Night, baby." Etta and Barbara walked to the foyer and out into the evening, Barbara lingering on the front porch while Etta took her leave.
Cara glowered at Greg for a moment, and he finally felt the burn and raised his head to look her in the eye.
"I don't appreciate you trying to have a veiled argument with me in front of Etta and your mother, Greg."
"I don't appreciate you denying our relationship in front of our whole damn family," he said.
"I didn't deny a relationship with you specifically," she said, affronted, her hands on her hips, and was ready to defend that weak argument when Barbara returned, closing the front door behind her, and nattering on about something funny Etta said on her way out the door. She stopped suddenly, astutely recognizing the confrontation going on in her den. "Excuse me," she said, surprised by the depth of emotion rippling on the undercurrent. She raised her brows warily and made her way to the kitchen, practically tiptoeing all the way there.
