After slipping into my discarded clothes faster than even the Flash ever would, I ran to open the door, my panties—did I put them on backwards?—insisting on giving me an irritating wedgie and my hair in disarray. Mom didn’t look too happy.
“What in heaven’s name took so long?” She strode purposefully into my house, her fire-eye trained on me.
My mother was still a beautiful woman, her brown hair streaked with silver and her blue eyes as bright and lively as when she was a young woman. She also had a knack for elegance in the way she dressed and carried herself—the gene obviously having missed me altogether. I often wondered whether my baby sister would have been more like her, well put-together and gorgeous. But we didn’t speak of Yvette. Ever. She was the heartbreak that had never healed, and would be taboo until such time tears didn’t immediately threaten to run down both our faces.
“Mom, you live on the west coast. Why are you here?” I looked around her for suitcases. “Where is your luggage?”
“I left them at the hotel.” Uh-oh, her voice didn’t bode well. “I’m moving back so I can be close to you.” I must have frowned, because she added, “Don’t give me that look. And why in heaven’s name did it take you so long to open the door?”
“You look nice.” My pitiful attempt at distracting her didn’t work, and she gifted me with her famous X-ray look. I’m so easy. “All right, Mom. I’m sorry. I wasn’t dressed yet.”
“It’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon. You were still in pj’s?” I sighed, resigned to enduring the usual lecture about personal hygiene. My mother seemed to be under the impression that I was a slob, when in fact I was a very clean and tidy person. It was the rare day when I didn’t get up before seven and wasn’t totally dressed and ready to go by eight.
“I was changing to go—” Shit. She’d trapped me into telling her the almost truth. “To go on a date.”
Her perfect face lit up in a smile. “A date? You’re dating again?” I was startled by her tone of voice. I had only heard my mother squeal twice—once when she found a squirrel nesting in our laundry basket, and when Yvette had won first prize for a dance competition years ago. But squeal she did then. “Oh, sweet duckling, I’m so happy for you.”
Before I could step aside, I was enveloped in a bear hug. “Mom, I can’t breathe.” She loosened up the hold a bit. “I can’t believe you’re this excited about me dating.”
She pushed me away and arched her beautifully shaped eyebrows in disbelief. “You’ve been divorced for more than two years and not once have you gone out on a date. Of course, I’m delighted. I was beginning to think I’d never be a grandma.”
Great! I’d just started dating Gavin and she was already getting me pregnant. This was why I didn’t share many life events with my mother. “We just went on a couple dates. It’s not like we’re making plans for the future yet.” Well, I was, but then again, I always did. Thus the lack of dating after my failed marriage.
Her arm looped through mine, she led me to the couch. “So tell me, who’s this guy who finally got your nose out of the books and into real life again?”
Resistance was futile. My mom was as relentless as any Borg, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “His name is Gavin. He’s a fireman.” I would leave out the fact he was rather wealthy for now, or she would be making reservations for our wedding reception. “He’s a very nice man.”
She looked up at me, squinting. “Cute? Like the guys in your stories?”
“What do you know about my stories?” I had been very diligent at keeping my mother away from my romances. I didn’t want to find out she hated my writing and, most of all, I didn’t want her reading my sexy love scenes. I wanted her to think of me as the pure little girl I once was. Not the one imagining the sex in the boudoir of my fictional characters. “You haven’t read them, have you?”
“Don’t get your panties all in a twist, girl.” Too late. They were seriously twisted and giving me a rash by now. “I confess. I have read one or two of your romances.”
My face was on fire. “Oh my God! How embarrassing.” I hid my face in my hands.
“Come on, duckling. Did you think I wouldn’t read your books?” Yes, I did. I really did. “You’re my daughter and I’m very proud of what you’ve accomplished.” I still couldn’t look at her. She giggled. “I’m also glad to know you’re not totally ignorant of the bedroom arts.”
“Mom!” Now, I would have to dig up a hole and bury myself in it forever.
“Stop playing coy. Is he cute?” I peeked at her through a gap in my fingers. “Your fireman. Is he big and muscular?”
I moaned, wiping my face with my hand. “He’s a real guy, Mom. Not a romance book character. He’s handsome, and yes, built in all the right places but—he’s a normal, nice guy.”
“You act like you can’t be muscular and nice.” Why was I wasting my time arguing with my mother, the most obstinate woman on the planet? “When do I meet him?”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Shit, it’s Gavin. This was not good at all.
“Mom, you have to be cool and leave Gavin alone, you hear?” I could hear the desperation in my voice. This was going to be painful.
“Don’t be silly, duckling. I would never embarrass you.” Right. And the Pope wasn’t Catholic.
I flung myself toward the door, my underwear still giving me trouble. “And don’t call me duckling in front of him, please.”
As soon as I opened the door and met Gavin’s amazing green eyes, I forgot my mom was just behind me. I sighed deeply, my whole body relaxing at the sight of him and my mind immediately fleeing to the memories of our one epic night of lovemaking.
“Hi, beautiful.” In one fluid stride, Gavin drew me into his arms and kissed me.
His mouth tasted exotic and forbidden, exhilarating and— My mom! My mother was watching me as I stuck my tongue down this handsome man’s throat. I pushed him away forcefully. Gavin stumbled and had to brace himself against the wall.
“Gavin, this is my mom, Elaine Mathews. She just got here from Seattle.” I wiped a hand over my swollen lips, and a shiver went down my spine and into my girly parts as I remembered his taste. Gavin stared at the smiling woman on the couch. “Mom, this is Gavin.”
She stood up, her hand stretched out in front of her. “My daughter’s boyfriend.” Just kill me now. “So nice to meet you.” A rather stunned Gavin took her hand and shook it. “A fireman, are you?”
He glanced over at me and I shrugged, giving up on any pretense of control. “My mom decided to surprise me and showed up at my door a little bit ago.” Catching me with my pants down. Literally.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Mathews.” Gavin smiled, finally recovering his wits.
“Call me Elaine. So, where are you taking my daughter?” Gavin choked. We hadn’t been planning to go anywhere farther than my bedroom. Maybe not even that far. “Oh, that kind of date. I better leave you then. Don’t want to embarrass my duckling anymore.” Too late for that, Mom.
Gavin jumped into action. “No, no. You just took me by surprise. I was going to take Ana to Grind N Crepe.” Sweet, sweet man. “Care to join us?” Stupid, stupid man.
For once, my mother did the right thing. “That’s very sweet of you, but I can’t stay. I have a hair appointment on the other side of town.” She winked at me and blood rushed to my face. “Love you, duckling.”
We said our goodbyes, and I exhaled loudly as the door closed behind her. “So sorry, Gavin. I didn’t know she would show up.” I spotted my sexy apron draped over the back of a chair and laughed. “I had a surprise lined up for you, but—”
He hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me against him. “Did it involve us getting naked?” I laughed against his strong chest. “It did, didn’t it? I like that kind of surprise. Can we recreate it?”
“I just can’t. Not after having my mother sitting there.” Her face was still etched in my mind, and her voice ringing in my ears. “Maybe we should go to
the Grind N Crepe instead.”
Gavin chuckled, dropped a kiss on my nose, and let me go. “Coffee shop it is, then.”
I turned my back on him and headed to my room. “I have something I need to do first.” Like turning my panties the right side around. The wedgie was killing me.
“I’ll be here.” His voice reached my ears with the power of a caress. “But hurry up… duckling.”
Awesome!
***
Gavin
“Ana, did you fall asleep or something?” My girl had a dreamy, dazed look in her dark eyes, as if her mind had wondered far away. “Duckling—?”
Her eyes rounded and focused on me. She licked her lips and slowly shook herself out of whatever trance she had fallen into. Not for the first time I gushed over her beautiful, always messy black hair and full, sensual lips.
“What?”
I laughed. “You were in la-la land. Where did you go?”
Much to my surprise, she blushed furiously. “My writer’s imagination takes me to weird places sometimes.” Hiding her eyes, she busied herself taking a long sip of her by now cold coffee. We’d become regulars at the Grind N Crepe since the day her mother had shown up at her house by surprise.
“Did it involve us in some level of nakedness?” I had to ask. Her face and neck were beet red. “Or at least one of us?”
She choked on the coffee, coughing and almost spilling the rest of the mug’s contents on the table. Still chuckling, I stood up and moved behind her, gently patting her back. It took her a while to regain her composure.
“You seem a little uncomfortable with the idea. Not sure why, considering we have been naked together already.” I was just teasing her, seeing how far I could go before she got mad at me. Her walnut eyes became fiery when she was furious, giving her a sexy-as-hell aura of beauty.
Ana looked around us as if afraid somebody had overheard me, but the other patrons were too busy with their own conversations to pay us any attention.
“Well? Was it?” I was not going to let it go that easily.
With a great sigh, she lifted her eyes to mine. “It may have involved some state of undress—I’m a romance writer after all. Sometimes I tend to see things through my writer’s lens.”
“Ah-ha! I knew it.” I relished my victory—over what, I was not quite sure. “Were we having fun?”
Her lips turned up into a wicked smile, and my coy romance writer transformed into more of a vixen. “I certainly was,” she said with a wink. “The things you were doing to me—”
Shit. Now I need a cold shower. Still standing behind the chair, I leaned against her and bent down to plant a kiss behind her ear. I was rewarded with a subtle moan.
I whispered in her ear, “We could go to my place for a while and reenact your dream.” Or create new ones.
Ana looked up at me and nodded, flushed again. I pulled back in preparation for our departure, but she never quite made it out of the chair. Someone squealed and called my girlfriend’s name, bringing both of us down from our sexy cloud. Who is that?
“Mom?” Holy shit, it was her mother. This woman sure seemed to have a gift to show up at the most inconvenient times. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see my duckling, of course.” Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down on my chair. Where was I supposed to sit? I decided to stay where I was—with my unruly bottom half hidden behind Ana.
“But you just came to see me a few days ago.” I could hear the guilt in Ana’s feeble protest and I smiled. It was a feeling I could totally understand. My mother, as amazing as she was, always seemed to be able to bring on that guilt, that weird, unjustified sense of wrongdoing. As if I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Which at this time was quite appropriate—I was not moving from my hiding place anytime soon.
“Well, honey, that’s the thing with mothers. We always miss our children.” She looked inside my cup and frowned. “This smells awful. What is it?”
My eyebrows shot upwards. “An espresso.”
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Revolting.” With a wave of her hand, she called the waiter and ordered a hot herbal tea. “I haven’t touched coffee in years.”
Mrs. Mathews was a beautiful woman like her daughter, but very different. In fact, it was hard to imagine the two as related at all. Where Ana was dark, her mother was light. Ana was short and curvy; her mom was tall and slim like a classic Hollywood star. My girlfriend favored casual, comfortable clothes; her mom was the elegant type, all tight-fitting clothes and high heels.
“So, what are you two kids planning?” I didn’t realize we were planning anything other than a trip to my place. But she seemed to think otherwise.
“Excuse me? What do you mean, Mrs. Mathews?”
“Call me Elaine, please.” The waiter came to our table and the sweet scent of the hot tea reached my nose. “I mean, what are you planning to do about your relationship? Is it casual? Is it serious?”
“Mom!” Ana practically yelled, her ivory complexion turning scarlet once again.
“I know you write about a lot of casual affairs in your romances.” The word casual was uttered with a certain amount of emphasis. “Is that what this is?”
In spite of myself—and my commiseration with Ana about her nosy mother—I wanted to hear her answer. What was this we had? I knew I was in love with this tiny, curvy, romantic woman, but how did she feel about me? Did she love me back, or was I a mere distraction?
“Mother, this is neither the place nor the time to have this discussion,” Ana said through clenched teeth.
“You haven’t decided yet, have you?” Well, we haven’t talked about it. “Oops, seems I have stuck a foot in my mouth. Sorry. Forget I said anything. Let’s just drink our tea and go on with our lives.”
Easy for her to say. Now I was wondering. I wanted to know what role I had in Ana’s life. Was I just research for one of her romances? I couldn’t handle it if that was the case. I was head over heels in love with her. I wanted so much more than just casual sex and a date here and there; I wanted a lifetime together.
My mouth went dry. Without realizing, I had given my heart—the one thing I selfishly and fiercely protected—to this tiny writer. And, even more surprising, it felt good. For once, I wasn’t afraid of being tied down, not being able to live my life free of constraints. For once, I welcomed being vulnerable and weak. I was all right being myself, as long as it was with her.
Ice Cream and Tears
Ana
My male character was not turning out quite the way I thought he would. The quest for the “real man” was not going well—at least not on paper. After sending out a couple of surveys to my readers, it seemed obvious that the preference leaned toward a buff and unrealistically gorgeous man. Who was I to argue with the wonderful people who read my books?
In real life though, I had found a real man, and I was head over heels happy I had. Gavin was handsome, but was no Adonis; strong and muscular, but not the Rock. He was perfect. Perfectly lovely. My crazy romantic mind was already making plans and dreaming up all sorts of life events together. Try as I may, I couldn’t keep my feet solidly on the ground. I was too much of a dreamer, too much of a romantic.
Gavin had called me first thing that morning. If the phone’s ring jarred my still asleep brain, his voice, soft and warm, soothed my nerves and brought a smile to my face.
“How’s my duckling?” He had latched on to my mom’s terrible term of endearment and made it his. Except I didn’t hate it when he called me that. On my mom’s lips, the word sounded childish and indulgent, but on his, it sounded sexy and flattering.
His duckling was being a lazy bum that morning. I peeked at the alarm clock and moaned. “It’s only six thirty, Gavin.”
“Never too early to get up and enjoy life.” It was his usual comment every time I or anyone else complained about something meaningless like that. His accident had no doubt left him with a renewed love for life, a willingnes
s to embrace even the annoying moments the day-by-day threw at us. “I want you to come to the station today.”
“Why? Do you want me to set the training tower on fire for you?” All I had to do was try to cook something in it. Gavin and I were the perfect pair. I set things on fire—accidentally, but still—and he put them out. I giggled, amused by my own drowsy thoughts.
Gavin laughed. “I bet you could do that quite easily, but no. I have something to show you.”
Remembering the recent incident with the apron and my mom, I immediately burned from head to toe. “You’re not planning on greeting me by the fire truck in nothing but a tie, are you? Not that I’d mind, but I’d prefer it without an audience.”
“You have a dirty mind—I like it.” He cleared his throat, as if the idea I’d just planted in his brain was causing him some trouble. “But unfortunately it’s nothing sexy. Will you come?”
My usual slow awakening be damned! I jumped out of bed and got dressed so fast I must have broken some record. In no time, I was out the door, makeup reasonably in place, my hair propped up into a messy bun, wearing a pair of comfortable black palazzo pants and a flowing, loose lavender tunic. I was already at the end of the driveway when I realized I had no shoes. Two minutes later, and sporting my glittering slides, I was running down the street like a madwoman.
As soon as I turned the corner and had a visual of the firehouse, I noticed a group of the men gathered by the basketball hoop. They were all crouching down and looking at something in the center. I spotted Gavin and my heart did a little dance in my chest. He was the only one standing, and just as I locked eyes on him, he saw me. I didn’t walk. I flew, my feet barely touching the ground, into his generous arms.
“Duckling, you’re here,” he whispered against my lips.
Yes, I’m here and always will be. Uh-oh, there it was—my cheesy, romantic soul.
“What was it you wanted to show me?” Better distract myself from his tasty lips, sexy neck, and everything that came below it.
Her Real Man Page 8
