CHARLIE
The moment I got home I had to pull out my vibrator, and that took all of two seconds. He’d had me so wound up I had barely heard anything Vanessa had to say after he left the patio, unless she was talking about him. She teased me, and I denied it.
I had to win this golf game. Losing wasn’t an option. If I lost I’d be obligated to go on a date with Ethan, and that was a terrible idea. I wanted to fuck him so badly I couldn’t sleep! There was no way I’d be able to go on a date and not tear off my clothes within the first ten minutes, and that’s not part of my five year plan.
Even though I assume we’re about the same age, he’s a man-child and I want a husband, kids, stability. Someone I can trust to raise my children well, who will be there for me. A rock I can rely on. Of course I’d love to have a vital sexual connection with my man but that’s not the most important thing in a relationship, is it? If I were to find a pulsing desire amidst that dream, it would be a bonus, but I know it’s rare.
Ethan would be just casual sex. That’s all man-children have to offer. You wake up surrounded by bongs and joysticks — the bad kind — and there’s no toilet paper in the bathroom.
Not only is that a disgusting image, I know me. There is no ‘casual’ sex in my world. I don’t believe it exists for any woman. We get attached, like it or not, and I refuse to deny that in order to satisfy a physical need. I need the whole package, marriage, babies, a partner who supports my career. Well, fuck, I’d just be happy with someone who made me laugh all the time and was also successful.
Turning over in my bed I screamed into my pillow, “I don’t know what I want!”
So I went to sleep struggling with my dilemma.
I tossed and I turned.
At seven thirty when my alarm rang I groaned and hit the snooze button and buried my head. And when I heard the knocking I was mystified, until my alarm clock said a glaring 9:00 A.M!
I yelped, jumping out of bed and running around in circles as I grabbed the silk pajama pants and cotton halter I’d ditched when it had gotten too hot in the middle of the night.
Yanking them on, I groaned, “Didn’t I hit snooze? I didn’t turn the alarm off, did I? This isn’t happening!”
He knocked again.
“Dammit!” I ran down the stairs and slid into the foyer, smoothing my hair in the mirror there. “Good thing you washed your face before bed,” I told my reflection, then held my palm in front of my mouth to smell my breath. Couldn’t tell if was bad or not but the taste was telling me not to let him get close.
Opening the door I hid behind it because my nipples were rock hard.
Gone were the graphic T and hip jeans. Ethan wasn’t dressed for golf but he looked breathtakingly handsome in dark slacks, a slender belt, button-up, high quality shirt hugging his muscles and rolled up his forearms, slightly open with a light grey tank top underneath.
Chestnut irises slowly took me in. “Did you just wake up?”
“Um…my alarm didn’t go off.”
His face brightened with the handsomest smile. “Well, go get ready.”
“You want to come in?”
“No, I want to guard the porch like a dog.”
Covering my mouth so my breath stayed safely with me, I laughed and widened the door to welcome him in. He caught sight of my excitement and I quickly crossed my arms over my chest. The sexy bastard licked his lips as he walked in, eyes locked on me. Oh my God, I was in trouble.
Turning around I hastily ran up the stairs and called down, “Make yourself at home! I just have to shower.”
His voice was distinctively deeper. “Want company?”
He meant it.
“Ha ha, very funny,” I awkwardly laughed and locked myself in the bathroom, pressing my back against the door as my body screamed at me to let Ethan Cocker in.
Swallowing hard I turned on the faucet and whispered, “You can do this. You’re an excellent golfer. You can do this.”
I repeated that until I went back downstairs.
11
CHARLIE
Morning sunlight traced Ethan’s profile as he sat relaxed in a chair at the small table in my kitchen nook. He was reading one of my cookbooks with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He seemed engrossed and didn’t hear me come in. I was barefoot and I hadn’t verbally announced myself. I took a moment to watch his eyes float left to right as he read. He flipped the page and leaned forward to soak in one of the photographs as though memorizing it, and I couldn’t help but wonder which dish had him so enthralled.
Seeing him in my favorite place sparked a fantasy in my mind. I could imagine us rising from bed in the mornings and having breakfast together. It hurt my heart a little because sharing mornings with someone had always been more romantic to me than any red rose could be, dozens or not.
I cleared my throat, and Ethan looked over. He scanned my cream slacks and white blouse and met my eyes, his sharp with approval as he nodded. “You have the grace of Katharine Hepburn, Ms. Reed. And today you’re dressed like her as well.”
My chest tightened a little. “You’re calling me old fashioned again,” I said as I walked to the coffee machine.
He rose up. “No, let me.”
I hesitated. It was my home but I appreciated the gentlemanly gesture, so I took a step back for him to serve me and keenly watched as he opened the correct cupboard. “You’ve found your way around.”
“You said make myself at home.” He met my eyes. “Did you blow dry your hair straight or is this how it naturally is?”
“It’s bone straight.”
“I like it.”
We stared at each other, neither looking away, and my heart raced. I had no idea what to do. Despite my attraction to him, we were practically adversaries. And yet I felt oddly serene with him near me. Like he was supposed to be here.
I stuttered, “Did you…think it would be curly?” Gosh, I sounded ridiculous. I had a Masters degree in business and I was unable to think of better conversation material?
He appeared much calmer than I was as he pulled the pitcher off its burner and started to pour. “My Aunt Sarah’s hair is curly. She’s a redhead, too. So is my cousin Lexi, her daughter. They’re both curly. They’re my main frame of reference.”
“Ah,” I whispered.
He handed me the cup. “We should go soon. People are waiting.”
We weren’t going to be alone?
I hid my disappointment and casually asked, “Oh, are we expected?”
“Yes.” He combed his hair with both hands. From behind my steaming cup I stared at how his shirt pulled with the motion, and how well he filled it out. Then I met his eyes and discovered he was watching me with a knowing look. I took a sip and yelped as it burned my tongue.
He went to grab the cup and I released it, watching him blow on the coffee. His lips hypnotized me until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I reached for the cup and said, “I can blow on my own coffee.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to. Or that you should.”
My hand faltered and dropped to my side. He resumed blowing on the coffee only now his eyes were locked with mine and all I could do was picture him between my legs looking up at me while he licked.
I crossed my arms.
“Covering your hard nipples again, Ms. Reed?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
He chuckled, and handed me my cup. “I think your tongue is safe now.”
“You said that with sex behind your tone.”
He leaned against the counter, so delicious and sure of himself, all I wanted to do was lean against him. “Did I? I never think of sex. How odd.”
I almost snorted. “I’m going to take this upstairs while I get my jacket.”
“Make it a raincoat. Just in case.”
“Oh right,” I mumbled, reminded of our unpredictable Georgia storms. I hastily retreated upstairs to my room and closed the door, setting down the cup and grabbing my head to whisper, �
��This guy is way too hot to spend a day with. Cancel golf. Cancel the bet. Go to a salon. Get a massage or something. Don’t do this.”
My little speech was useless.
I gulped down coffee, grabbed my raincoat and rushed downstairs to the worst decision of my adult life. Ethan waited by the door, thumbs tapping on his phone. He glanced up and asked, “You ready, boss?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I tensely smiled.
He opened the door. “Ladies first.”
“Who’s old fashioned now?”
“My mom raised me right.”
As I found the right key he stood behind me and said, “This is a nice home, Ms. Reed. Charming. I like Craftsman houses. And we’re almost neighbors.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Are we?”
“I live on the other side of Peachtree. Just a few blocks from here.”
I sarcastically muttered, “Too bad I’ll never see your home,” locking the deadbolt. When I turned to walk to the street I saw a town car waiting for us. The driver stepped out. “You don’t have a car?”
“It’s in the shop,” he smiled.
As we made our way down my path, I pulled out my phone and saw a slew of notifications. “I hope you don’t mind but I have to answer some work emails on the way. I won’t look at it again until the game is over and I’ve won the bet.”
He laughed freely. “You do what you have to do, Boss. I’m never bored.”
The driver walked around the car to let us in.
I glanced to Ethan and asked, “You’re never bored?”
“There’s always something to do, read, or learn.”
I slid into the backseat and thanked the driver. Ethan slid in next to me. I disappeared into my phone, but I was having a hard time focusing on Wyntech at first because my first time was in a backseat. Ever since then, they’re an erotic place for me, a Pavlovian reaction. And Ethan smelled so good.
He adjusted his weight on the shiny leather seat and got comfortable. I looked over at him, wondering if he had done that to try and get my attention. He met my curious look, and gave me a wink.
“You’re…”
“What?” he smirked. “Irresistible?”
“Annoying.”
His smile faltered and he looked forward. “Oh.”
Turns out I’m a pretty good liar. I vanished back into putting out fires and delegating tasks to others who could handle some of the problems these emails proposed today, when I could not. I wanted my full focus on the course.
It was taking an awfully long time to get there. I looked up and saw unfamiliar terrain and asked, very confused, “Where are we?”
“DeKalb-Peachtree airport,” he casually said, adding, “Isn’t it funny how there are seventy-one streets in Atlanta with a variant of Peachtree in them?”
I stared at him. “Go back a sec. Why are we at an airport?”
“To golf,” he said with a shrug. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I eyed him. “No. It isn’t.”
“You challenged me to a golf game.”
“You challenged me.”
“Same thing. So we are going to play golf. My income depends on it. I’m taking this very seriously.”
“Why do you have a twinkle in your eyes?” He glanced to my pointed finger like he might bite it, so I pulled it back. “You’ve got something up your sleeve.”
“Twinkle in my eyes,” he smiled to himself, staring out the window as we turned right onto the airport’s long cement driveway. “Something up my sleeve.” The sedan slowed and the driver slid a card over the private keypad. There was no one manning it. Ethan glanced to me, “Any other outdated metaphors you want to use?”
“I’m not sure if they are metaphors exactly,” I argued, bristling.
“I’m not sure if they are either,” he shot back with a fucking twinkle in his eyes. Damn him.
“What is going on, Ethan?
The car bounced over potholes this city had no shortage of. As we bobbed he smirked, “You called me Ethan.”
“Mr. Cocker, what the hell is going on?”
We slowed in front of an impressively shiny private jet. My chest tightened and I turned to him.
Ethan was watching me. He leaned a little closer and said, “Everyone knows the best golf courses are in Edinburgh, Ms. Reed.”
My mouth dropped open and I squeaked, “Scotland??!”
12
CHARLIE
He opened his door and climbed out. “I was hoping we’d have left on time, but someone didn’t set her alarm.”
The driver opened my door and offered me his hand. It was shaking as he took it. Over the hood of the car I watched Ethan stroll to the trunk and motion a question, silently asking if it was unlocked. The driver nodded.
Shocked I said, “Even if we’d left at nine, there’s a six hour time difference and a thirteen hour flight!”
Ethan corrected me, “Ten hours when you’re flying direct.”
“Still, the golf courses won’t be open!”
Ethan pulled out two suitcases from the trunk. “Which is why I took the liberty of packing you an overnight bag. Oh, and I had someone shop for you as well.”
“What?!” I gasped.
The driver wasn’t assisting him and there was a smile in the older man’s eyes. It was then that I realized they were familiar with each other. This might even be his personal driver. I couldn’t be sure and I was too well mannered to ask right in front of the man.
“Will that be all, Mr. Cocker?”
“No, Clark, just a second.” He locked eyes with me. “Ms. Reed, Clark can drive you back to your home if you’re afraid…of flying.”
I bristled at the pause and my back straightened. “That will not be necessary. Thank you, Clark.”
He tipped his head to me, climbing back in the car with a professional, “Have a safe flight.” But as he was about to close his door he paused. “Kick his ass, Ms. Reed.”
Ethan called over, “I heard that!”
Clark chuckled and shut the door, engine humming to life. As the sedan pulled away I walked to the foot of the white, metal stairs where Ethan waited for me. He had the smuggest look on his face. He’d pulled the ultimate surprise. I turned my nose up, and said, “Don’t scratch my suitcase on the way up.”
“Yes, your Highness,” he chuckled, following as my steps echoed. “You mean the suitcase I bought?”
“I’m assuming I get to keep it.”
“Of course.”
I was holding back a smile as I stopped on the steep staircase and looked down at him. “Then don’t scratch my suitcase.”
He paused, wind picking up his tousled mop. His cheeks were flushed. He was pleased his plan had gone so well. I wanted to kiss him. It was everything I could do not to take the few steps down and kiss his full lips and experience how good they felt against mine. I was beginning to believe our chemistry wasn’t normal, that something real might be happening to us, and it was tempting to follow my instinct but I wasn’t that brave. I turned back around and headed inside, worried I was being overly hopeful and reading more into this than what it was.
Two pilots sat in the cockpit and at hearing us board, turned in their seats and rose up to greet me. “Ms. Reed, I’m Captain Todd Gardner. This is my first officer, Talia Galvez.”
My breath hitched with surprise that they knew my name and that one of the pilots was a woman. I shook their hands. “Very nice to meet you. Charlotte Reed.”
Ethan set the bags down and shook their hands, too. “How’re you guys doin’? Ready for a night of Scotch and sexy accents?”
They laughed and the captain said, “We never drink on the job. You never know when we’re needed.” They closed the door with saluting head nods, and we were alone again.
He blinked at me, his smile flashing after a moment. “You think I’m too casual with everyone, but you don’t know the history.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” I confessed. And it was true.
; “You weren’t? What were you thinking?”
“I’m not telling you,” I shrugged, turning to abate my curiosity about how luxurious this private jet really was. I’ve never wanted for anything but I was taught to be extremely cautious with money, that at any moment you could be on the streets if you weren’t careful. Apparently Ethan Cocker didn’t receive the same life lessons as I.
Slowly I walked forward into an oval living room, cushy couches, a winged two-level table with a bolted down cherry wood box that held glasses and bottles of expensive liquor. There was a game table on the left with a magnetic chessboard set up and ready to play. A panel divided the front room from the back.
In the center was a small kitchen and when I opened the fridge – I couldn’t help myself – I discovered it was freshly stocked with plates of poached salmon laid across gourmet salad beds, carafes of three different juices, fruit tarts with custard filling next to chocolate covered strawberries, and chilled Fuji water bottles.
I could feel Ethan watching me as he put our suitcases into an actual walk-in closet, but I was so engrossed in my curiosity I wasn’t thinking about him. I slid open a door and gasped at a dining room table that could seat six, plus benches that lined the walls, maybe for extra guests? I wasn’t sure. How wealthy was this man? He certainly didn’t flash it around. The way he dressed showed only a sense of independence not success.
And the final door I almost didn’t want to open. I had a feeling suddenly that I must look silly and a deep flush came over me. I turned my head and locked eyes with Ethan. He was standing beside the bolted-down dining table, his muscular arms crossed.
His voice was quiet and deep. “Go ahead, open it.”
I opened the sliding door and was greeted by a seductive queen size bed, the comforter fluffy and pillows ample, in between two nightstands, art deco lamps built into the wall above them. My chest started thudding and I closed the door. I met his eyes and we held there a tense moment. He walked to me and I thought he was going to kiss me.
“You’re an odd guy, Ethan,” I whispered.
Cocky Genius: Ethan Cocker (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 9) Page 6
