Star Quality

by Lori Foster, Lucy Monroe

  Her heart knocked against her ribs. He undid her blouse, popping two buttons. Ann Taylor had not designed for rapid stripping in a coatroom.

  He pushed her bra up over her breasts, taking her breath away. “Oh, babe,” he said again, this time in a worshipful voice as he gazed at her. He cupped one breast, then the other, his thumb fondling her sensitive nubs. She bit back a whine, his touch obliterating every thought from her mind except Marc Adams and the feel of him. She barely resisted the urge to tackle him to the floor and tear off his clothes. Was this what divorce did to a woman? Or was this what Marc Adams did?

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  She looked down to see what miracle had befallen her not quite so perky boobs since this morning. Nope, same pair, until Marc kissed them, setting her completely on fire. She sighed and nuzzled her face in his hair, loving the texture against her cheeks, inhaling his heavy male scent. Everything about him mesmerized her. “I know this is crazy and irrational and much too fast, but I can’t help it. I really really want you…now!”

  Marc’s insides tightened into a hard knot. “Thank God. I didn’t want to finish this alone.”

  He looked up, her face flushed with excitement, turning him on even more. He undid his belt and watched as Julia kicked off one shoe, then the other, then paused.

  “The only men I’ve ever taken my clothes off for are Frank and my gynecologist, and I think the gynecologist appreciated it more.”

  “Does that mean you’re having second thoughts?”

  “No. No second thoughts. Not tonight.” Her gaze fused with his. “Not with you.” She hiked up her skirt, revealing lovely feminine thighs. She reached under her skirt, squirmed her hips left, then right…what the hell…then peeled off her undergarments and kicked them into a little heap.

  She righted herself and swept her hair from her face. “Shew, that’s hard work!”

  He snagged the garments and held them up for inspection. “What’s this?”

  She snapped them back and tossed them to the settee behind him. “Girdle, panty hose. I didn’t dress for seduction. I dressed for linen.”

  “I think I hate linen.” He unzipped his trousers.

  Her eyes rounded. “Oh, hell.”

  He swallowed hard. “Let me guess, now you’re having second thoughts?”

  “Protection.”

  “Oh.” He brightened. He fished out his wallet and held up a condom. “Not to worry.”

  She looked from it to him, her brows furrowing. “You had this planned?”

  He waved his hand over the cluttered coatroom. “Babe, no one on the face of the earth could have this planned.” He tore open the package and covered himself, her eyes following his every move.

  “Oh…damn.” This time her voice was a smoky whisper as she stared at his dick. Was this a good oh, damn or a bad one?

  “You’re…so…big. Frank wasn’t…”

  Marc grinned. Definitely good. He tangled his fingers into her luscious hair and kissed her hard, tasting the sweet sexy heat of her mouth and listening to her short gasps of mounting excitement. He toppled her onto the maroon settee, then followed her, bracing himself on his elbows, looking down at her. “Stunning full breasts, pink nipples, you’re—”

  “Marc!” she said, passion filling her eyes. “Inventory later. Hurry now.”

  He felt her tug her skirt up to her thighs. She stopped and bit her lip in hesitation.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I just need a minute here.”

  “Babe, I don’t think I have a minute.” He gritted his teeth, fighting for control. “What you do to me…”

  Get a grip, Adams, he thought to himself. It’s not like you haven’t done this before. Except with Julia it was different. She was different. He kissed her, her eyes darkening to jade, and he felt her skirt again slide up, exposing soft curls, the heat from her silky mound now surrounding his pulsing dick. The smell of sex hung heavy in the room, her shallow breaths the only sound. She wrapped her legs around his back, and his dick touched her swollen, wet lips.

  Every muscle in his body throbbed with wanting, and he slowly eased himself into her, knowing the instant he touched her clit because she bucked against him. “You’re so ready, Julia,” he said in a ragged voice. “So sweet, so hot, just for me.”

  Her eyes glazed, and she widened her thighs, opening herself more to him. He wanted her to get the feel of him a little at a time…until she arched against him, taking his shaft deep inside her, nearly making him come. “God, Julia.”

  “Make love to me, Marc.”

  He pulled out just a bit, and she whimpered in protest till he plunged back into her. He did it again, then again, farther and faster, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her body meeting his thrusts making him delirious with pleasure.

  Her legs tightened, and he drove into her once more as she gasped, throwing her head back in pleasure. He kissed her, swallowing the sweet sound of her crying out his name as his own explosive orgasm racked his body in the pure ecstasy of making love to Julia.

  He sagged on top of her, sinking them both into the soft cushions. “Incredible,” he whispered in her ear. He gulped in deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, then raised his head and gazed at her. He brushed strands of damp hair from her temples. “Sorry we didn’t take more time.”

  “Hello?” came a female voice from the entrance to the coatroom.

  Julia’s eyes cleared instantly and rounded to the size of softballs. She gave him an oh-shit look. He pulled out of her, trying to take his time and knowing they had no time. He rolled onto the floor, took off the condom, wrapped it in his handkerchief and stuck it in his pocket. He slipped under the settee, dragging her suit jacket with him. Damn, where was Julia?

  He reached around the cushions and curled his finger for her to follow. In a second she was beside him, facing him, as they heard the old floor creak. Someone was coming toward them.

  “Anyone here?” The lights came on.

  Julia mouthed, girdle, panty hose. She pointed up to where they’d been. He knew those damn things were no good.

  He felt along the back of the settee, connecting with a silky leg. He tugged, bringing down the girdle, too. Julia snagged her shoes. He grabbed her purse.

  “Hello?”

  A pair of Doctor Scholls came into view at the side of the settee. Marc held Julia tight, mostly to keep any body extremities from protruding, or maybe he wanted an excuse.

  “Margaret,” came another voice from the hallway. “We’re locking up the restaurant. Cook’s almost done. There’s no one there, let’s go home, I’m beat. Did you see that PI stud with Julia? He can park his butt in my bed anytime. Bet he’s hung like a damn horse.”

  Julia grinned, and Marc didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or proud.

  “I thought for sure I heard something.”

  “Probably mice.”

  “Don’t think I ever heard mice moan before.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” the owner of the Doctor Scholls declared. “Mice. Nothing but mice.”

  Instantly, she retreated toward the entrance. Marc exhaled in relief, and Julia did the same. The lights went out in the coatroom and then in the entrance hall, leaving only the glow of red from the emergency signs. He waited, listening for the all-clear sounds of locks falling into place and the dead quiet of no footsteps. Besides, lying next to Julia was not exactly a hardship. He loved the feel of her body next to his. A wood floor was not the best, but he’d take it all the same.

  Finally, he wiggled out from under the sofa, and Julia followed. He stood and helped her up. Trying not to giggle she whispered, “A horse?”

  “Just couldn’t let it go, could you?”

  “I just wonder how she knew?” Julia grinned, then slid on her shoes. “We were almost on the front page of the Apple Bee.” She stuffed her girdle and panty hose into her purse.

  “I can see it now, Town council member found doing the nasty in the coatr
oom at the Old Orchard Inn.”

  Her eyes met his, and she framed his face with her cool hands and kissed him, her lips puffy and slick from his kisses. “It was not nasty,” she said. “It was great.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” He kissed her back. “We have to get the heck out of here unnoticed. You just got over one mess; you don’t need to be the center of gossip again. The emergency exit should work. If we’re seen together, especially with you looking like this, people will talk.”

  He wagged his head, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he straightened her blouse, trying to pull together the material where buttons were missing. He helped her on with the jacket. “I think we killed your suit.”

  She stood on tiptoes and kissed his top lip, the bottom lip, then both together. “It was for a good cause.” Her words and kisses made him hard for her again. How could that happen?

  He gathered her close so she’d feel how she affected him, her eyes brightening in surprise. He nodded at the settee. “If I wasn’t worried about your reputation…”

  “You mean the merry divorcée of Delicious, Ohio?”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow night. I’m helping Cal with another case, so I’ll be out of touch till then.”

  “Oh my, more scandal? How can this be?”

  “Let’s just say it’s amazing what goes on in little towns in Ohio.” He grinned. “And I’m happy to do my part as long as I’m with you.”

  He took a penlight from his inside pocket, shined it on the floor, took her hand, and made his way to the red exit sign. “I’ll check the alley.” He gave her one last kiss. “In Cleveland this wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Welcome to Delicious.”

  By the next evening Julia had accomplished zip in the photography studio. All day…and all last night…she’d thought about nothing but Marc, the inn, and a certain maroon settee in the coatroom.

  This is crazy, she decided as she leaned back in the chair, her scheduling book spread out on the round oak table in front of her. How could she be so attracted to a younger man who was not her type at all? A city boy, a PI, a player. Then again, she had thought Frank was her type and look where that got her.

  Frank wasn’t always a jerk, of course, just the last few years. After he hired that blond bombshell teller with the big fake bazooms, things were never the same. Julia just hadn’t faced it till she’d come across that credit card and gotten Cal to do some investigating. Frank? Club Med? What a joke.

  Or, maybe she was the joke. She caught her reflection in the glass framing the Ansel Adams poster on the wall. She bunched her hair on top of her head and stuck a pencil through to hold the loose knot in place. More youthful, definitely more sexy. Though Marc seemed to like her just the way she always looked.

  Last night was fabulous. He was fabulous, and it took more than sex to get her to have that opinion of him. He was smart, funny, compassionate, caring, selfless, and hung like a horse. What more could she ask for? Nothing. That’s why she had sex with him. Men like Marc didn’t come along every day.

  She knew him, because of the divorce. But she’d never known this fun, sexy side of him.

  Concentrate, Julia, concentrate, and not on Marc. She looked back to the cluttered table. She had three weddings in August to arrange, the Ziglers’ twenty-fifth anniversary party, the yearly group picture of the Historical Society, and the senior pictures for the high school yearbook. And she wanted to take some artistic shots of the Abernathys’ sunflower farm in bloom and this week’s full moon reflecting on Golden Lake.

  “Julia,” came Bridget’s voice from the doorway of the studio. “I’m glad I found you. I should have known you’d be working late. I have news.” She stared at Julia and paused for a second. “You look…different.”

  “Exhaustion. I’ve got a killer schedule ahead of me.”

  “Nice hair.” She sat in the chair across the table and gave Julia a sassy smile. “Word has it something’s going on over at Old Orchard Inn besides renovations. Something that goes bump in the night.”

  “Mice.”

  Bridget arched her left eyebrow. “Condom wrapper on the floor of the coatroom.”

  “Active mice.” Julia willed herself not to blush.

  “You wouldn’t know anything about this?”

  “Trojan found a niche market?”

  “You old dog.” Bridget sat up, grinning at Julia. “How could you not level with me; I’m your best friend, the one who got you into that coatroom? You are one fast woman.”

  “I’m forty-one, my fast days are over.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “What secret?”

  Bridget didn’t seem to be listening and continued, “This is perfect, an affair without strings.”

  “What affair! Did I mention affair?”

  She hunched her shoulders in a dismissive way. “If you’re interested, I know why this is going on, why all that strange stuff happened yesterday.”

  She looked Julia dead in the eyes. “I know why Marc’s attracted to you. It’s a fluke. Your wishes are coming true.” She leaned across the table. “Think about it. You wished Frank to fall in the fountain, which he promptly did.”

  “Coincidence,” she said, but suddenly didn’t believe it as strongly as she wanted to. She’d had an icky feeling all along things were screwy.

  “And,” Bridget added. “Frank snorted, what about that? You said he was a pig. You wished for a picture, and Marc took it. Then there was the McGuffy truck episode. That man drove you nuts for two whole months. And what happens yesterday? You wish he’d move and he does, within minutes.”

  Bridget grinned at Julia, leaned back, and crossed her legs under her long blue cotton skirt, looking very pleased with herself. “Then there’s the clincher. The wish for hot sex with Marc Adams.”

  “That was sarcasm.”

  “It seems wishes have no sense of humor.”

  Julia tapped the pencil on the table. An eerie feeling crept up her spine. “Today I wished Linda Farmer and Belinda Snow would pay their bills for their First Communion pictures.”

  “And?”

  “And they did.”

  “Holy shit.” Bridget bolted straight up in her chair. “Look, you said yourself something’s going on, and you were right. You get your wish. It’s like having a birthday, except you had a divorce and now your wishes come true for real.”

  Julia leaned across the table. “Lots and lots of people get divorced, and they don’t get what they wish for.”

  “Yeah, but you divorced Frank, and the angels rejoiced. So, maybe they’re giving you a little gift.”

  “And how long does this wish thing last?”

  “Who knows, who cares? Take it for what it is and have fun. Least you’re not seeing dead people like that poor little kid in the movie.”

  “Gee, Bridge, I feel so much better now.” Julia shivered.

  “You should wish for a bunch of other stuff, see if it happens.”

  “No way. I’ve read Stephen King. A person can get into a heap of trouble messing with the cosmos like that. So, you really think Marc’s under some kind of influence because of me?”

  “Why else would he come after you?” She held up her hand. “I didn’t mean it that way,” she rushed on. “But this is not a match made in heaven, your words.”

  “You think Marc Adams is attracted to me because I wished it?”

  “And until it ends take it for what it’s worth, and that means great sex for Julia Dempsey with Marc Adams. No permanent attractions and no one gets hurt. What could be better than that?”

  Bridget cocked her head. “Unless, of course, you’re falling for him. You’re not doing that, are you?”

  Julia tisked. “Of course not. We had dinner, a really boring one. We have nothing in common.”

  “Except a coatroom?”

  “Mice.” Julia tapped her pencil again. “Nothing but mice.”

  Bridget winked. “Think about Marc and enjoy your freedom.
” She glanced at her watch. “Yikes, I’ve got to run, I have a date with Jerry. His crew’s building an addition to that motel by the expressway, so he’s been putting in a lot of extra hours. But we’re getting together for…uh, dinner.” She grinned.

  “Set a wedding date yet?”

  “Next summer. Definitely next summer. He promised.”

  Julia smiled, wanting to kick Jerry in the butt. He’d kept Bridget waiting for two years already. An engagement of convenience; all the perks and none of the responsibility.

  Bridget winked. “Marc’s the right guy at the right time, Jules. He’s here for now, then goes back to Cleveland. You’ll find another guy who’s really for you; you don’t have to wish it, and you’ll live happily ever after.”

  Julia watched the door close behind Bridget, then focused on the big full moon glowing creamy white outside the store front window of her studio. Marc Adams’ attraction to her was nothing but a wish? Impossible.

  Then she thought of their lovemaking and the greatest sex she’d ever had. Some wish.

  She thought of Marc’s compassion for Sally and other divorced women. Of his humor, his fun, his ability to not take himself too seriously and laugh at the situation they’d gotten into. She thought of the way he’d made love to her and how he treated her and made her feel alive and wonderful and how this would all end unexpectedly.

  Marc Adams might be under some kind of wish influence, but the only influence she was under was Marc Adams. She threw her pencil across the room. “Well, hell. Now what?”

  When it came to men, she sucked. She’d fallen for Frank, who cheated on her, and now Marc, who would go back to Cleveland and forget about her. She should do herself a really big favor and join a convent or at least stay away from Marc until he left town.

  Four

  Marc slapped on mosquito repellent, then laced up his running shoes. The full moon glowed overhead in the clear night sky, casting a ribbon of silvery light across the lake. Fishing boats with lanterns and a few rowboats dotted the calm water. A night for lovers, except Marc’s lover was nowhere to be found.

  Frogs and crickets chirped their mating calls as he hit redial on his cell and listened to the continuous ringing at the other end followed by Julia’s voice requesting a message. He had a message for her all right, Where the hell are you?