by July Dawson
"Mitch? Mr. Delaney?" Dad gave me a long look.
"I had brunch with them. Part of the job," I said. "And you know, Mitch was really nice."
"Really nice, sure," Mom said.
"I just want to see you settle down with a good guy," Dad said.
"Well, that’s… apropos of nothing. I know." After all, a son-in-law had been on Dad's Christmas list for the last few years. He'd gone from you can date when you're thirty to that's not actually funny anymore, Naomi, you should date.
"So a nice Navy SEAL," Alice said, and I cut my eyes at her furiously, trying to get her to stop. "With a few million dollars. Not good enough for a son-in-law?"
Mom turned on me. "Naomi! Do you like Robert Delaney?"
"His full name," I noted. "Makes it sound like he's in trouble."
"Yeah, he's in trouble, if he thinks he's good enough for my daughter," Dad grumbled, helping himself to another serving of pasta. Which was pretty typical of Dad's usual shtick, but I wasn't sure he was kidding.
"You know I read an article," Mom said. "It was about how pretty much everyone who achieves the big successes, they had some big roadblock in life as children. Learning disability or a death in the family or poverty. Something they overcame."
"So you're saying that Naomi and I are destined for a middling-life because you guys gave us a happy childhood?"
"No!" Mom said. "That's not what I'm saying. We come from tough stock, you girls were born to go out and chase your dreams down. Look at what you've accomplished so far. Alice is putting herself through law school, Naomi is growing the business."
Dad nodded, his eyes on us girls fond. "We're so proud of you both."
"Thanks, Dad," I said, although my tone came out quiet. I felt anxious about what my parents would think about what I'd just done with Rob Delaney. The thought of hiding the truth from them also made me feel sick. We never kept secrets from each other. "Anyway, I know you don't want me to get too close to the Delaneys, but I have to eat fast and then go pick Liam up from the airport."
"You work too hard," Mom said, shaking her head.
"You're the ones who taught us there's no such thing as working too hard!" I exclaimed. I caught Alice’s eyes, looking for confirmation. "Right? Do you remember cleaning every Sunday after Mass? Day of rest?"
"You got to watch a movie on Sundays!" Mom said.
"And you'd be handing out the Pledge as soon as the credits rolled," Alice said.
I couldn't help but think about how this warm, teasing meal was the opposite of the strained brunch I'd shared with Rob and Mitch. As Dad re-told an anecdote that I'd heard many times before – one that might have made me slightly exasperated if not for his joy in the re-telling – I thought that for all Rob's wealth, I wouldn't swap this life for his.
Maybe my life would be more fun with his money. But his life would be more fun with all the love I felt in my family and community. Luckily, if we were – in some crazy fantasy world – to get married someday, then we would each get the blessings the other's life had to offer. No need to swap. It would all be shared.
I took another sip of wine and pushed those crazy thoughts away. If we did get married. What a loony thing to be thinking about, a few days after my teenage crush came back into town.
But it was a nice kind of loony.
By the time I drove back to the Delaney house, I was embarrassed by my eagerness to see Rob. The porch lights were bright against the evening gloom. I found myself smiling as I let myself into the house, and I bit down on my lip instead. What was wrong with me? It had been a whirlwind of a day. I needed a break, to clear my head. I was enchanted by him. But I couldn't let myself get all wrapped up in Rob Delaney again.
When I walked into the foyer of the house, though, I found it quiet and empty. I hesitated, listening for sounds of life. If Rob was on a different floor, I'd never hear him anyway. He could be showering, or napping. I could join him as he stood under the drizzle of the shower, his dark hair slicked to his head, water beading across his powerful shoulders, or slip into the bed beside him, settling my head into the crook of his arm.
"Rob?" I called, walking through the dark-wood-and-marble rooms. Disappointment settled in my stomach, replacing the flare of fantasy. Joe had mentioned that Mitch had always had a bodyguard for a reason, and he had looked concerned for Rob. Rob might have laughed it off -- I am a Navy SEAL, you know -- but I couldn't shake the feeling something could have happened to him. Or what if he had gone out into the ocean by himself? He was too sure of himself. That confidence -- which came through in the lithe, agile way he moved, the quiet but certain way he spoke -- was magnetic. But I was afraid he was too confident.
I went upstairs, pace quickening as I moved from empty room to room. The big house had always seemed unsettling, too much space when I was cleaning alone. I'd had to play music when I was cleaning upstairs that day Rob came, turning it up so I could hear it in adjacent rooms lest I hear phantom sounds amidst the slow rush of the ocean surf.
I jogged down the steps, fear clutching my stomach no matter how much I told myself I was being ridiculous. Rob knew we were on a tight schedule to meet his brother, and he couldn't even drive. Where would he have gone?
I tumbled around the corner into the kitchen, thinking I would go on the deck and see if I could see him anywhere on the property. The door to the basement swung open and Rob meandered in, distracted and texting on his phone as he walked. He wore board shorts and a wet t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders.
Rob looked up at me and as his cool blue eyes met mine, they softened, even at this distance. Bedroom eyes. I'd never known what that meant before. But I knew when I met his eyes, which were soft with a haze of desire and affection. I could have melted into a puddle and flowed the rest of the way into the room.
He looked at me curiously. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my excited breathing from the worried search through the house. Feeling self-conscious, I said, "Hey."
"Hey." He was still looking at me curiously, but let it pass. He slipped his arm around my waist familiarly. I felt a spark of emotion at the ease with which he touched me, the warmth of his hand against the small of my back. "Missed you.”
"Missed you too," I admitted. I had a feeling all the emotions I'd tried to corral burst out when I smiled helplessly at him. He was gorgeous, larger than life, and he was–kind of, just a little–mine.
"I went out for another swim," he said, indicating his still-plastic-wrapped cast with a nod of the head. He winced slightly, touched his arm right above where the cast began. "Probably not my brightest idea."
"What, you couldn't get enough of a workout with me?"
"I definitely got a workout with you," he murmured, his arm tightening me to his side. I found myself pressed between his powerful bicep and his thigh, my hand instinctively rising to touch his warm, tight abs. Everything about him exuded heat and masculinity. "Even if it was cut short. Speaking of…"
"Maybe we can make up for lost time later," I said, although I didn’t want to pull myself away from that hard-angled body. “We should’ve left for the airport like, ten minutes ago…”
“Lucky us, his flight was delayed by half an hour.” The way his lips quirked up close to mine made me melt. “What can we do in twenty minutes, Naomi? We can’t fit in a swim…”
“You’re incorrigible,” I murmured, our lips inches apart.
“Hopeless,” he agreed, closing the distance between us, his upper lip almost touching mine.
“Awful.” Our lips brushed as I exhaled the word in a whisper.
He kissed me hard then, and I felt my fingers tangle in his short hair, wanting him close to me, kissing him back wildly. Our tongues slipped together, and I flashed back to his strong, pink tongue slipping around that ice cream cone. I could almost taste the mocha ice cream on his lips again.
He slid his hands under the hem of my shirt. His fingers across my bare flesh sent sparks flying up my spine, and I felt my core tighten in
desire. His hand dipped lower, down my waistband, his fingers sweeping over the curve of my ass. I rested my cheek against his muscular shoulder, feeling the hardness of his muscle even through the soft, weathered t-shirt.
“We shouldn’t do this here,” I murmured. We probably shouldn’t do this at all. But we definitely shouldn’t do it in the enormous two-story foyer, with the elaborate silver-and-crystal chandelier above blurring into one bright glow.
“No one’s going to catch us, Naomi,” he murmured playfully into my ear. His voice, so low and sexy, always made butterflies rise in my stomach. “You’re the one who’s in a hurry.”
“I’m not in the kind of hurry that says let’s-get-naked-in-the-grand-foyer,” I said, and as soon as the words were out, they sounded like a better and better idea. His hand swept down the inside curve of my ass. I sagged against him as a thrum of desire ran through me, stronger than sense. It wasn’t fair, so I reached out and grabbed him hard, squeezed him through his jeans, and when he kissed me again, I felt his lips smiling against mine.
Okay, fine. I was in exactly that kind of hurry.
He unbuttoned my jeans, sliding his hand down the front of my pants this time. His fingers found my clit and began to strum it like this was a familiar instrument, sending notes of pleasure coursing through my body every time his thumb traced a circle. I moaned into his shoulder.
Then I said, “Oh, no, you don’t.” I broke away, even though it left my breathing ragged, and concentrated on untying and then sliding his wet trunks down over his lean thighs. His cock bobbed free in front of his chiseled lower abs.
He was grinning down at me, right up until I wrapped my mouth around his cock, and then I heard him breathe in.
I took his long, solid length in my hand and traveled up and down his shaft. His blue eyes watched me intently, his fingers resting in my hair, and then his eyes drifted shut in pleasure. My jaw began to ache with the effort, but his fingers in my hair were so tender and sweet and I loved seeing him give up control to me. It just spurred me to greater efforts, moving up and down his cock until I felt his muscles tense, his head falling back, and he filled my mouth.
I wiped my lips quickly, turning away slightly, as I stood. He caught me around the waist. I looked up at him in surprise for a second as he kissed me, and I felt an electric tingle between us.
“My turn,” he said, grinning roguishly, and that expression sent a jolt of desire through me all over again, as if I weren’t already mad with it.
I made a show of checking my watch. “Quick.”
“I can be quick,” he promised. “But not too quick.”
He caught my hand and pulled me across the foyer to the long mahogany table, adorned with swaying orchids, that stood between the two twisting staircases. I flashed a mischievous grin at him over my shoulder right before he bent me over the table, and I caught myself with my palms flat against the cool wood. Behind me, he rolled the condom on, and then I felt the tip of his cock tease between my thighs.
I shoved back against him. After all, we were in a rush.
His cock slid inside me smoothly, so satisfying that I felt my back arch. With his hands firm on my hips, he began to pump into me steadily. Every time he shoved all the way inside me, I felt a wave of satisfaction that made my toes curl.
“Rob,” I murmured, just before I came, hard, around his cock. I let myself slump forward on my elbows on the table, gasping as my core tightened wildly around him.
“Yeah?” he said. There was a self-satisfied note to his voice, like he enjoyed the way I said his name when I was coming.
I turned, already pulling up my jeans, even though my knees felt weak. I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction when he was already so damn cocky. Even if he had good reason to be.
“We’ve got to go pick up Liam,” I said, my voice brisk and matter-of-fact. As if I didn’t feel weak-kneed and languid, eager to let myself fall into his arms.
"Liam, right," he said, looking disappointed. "Well, he should be grateful you're looking out for him. I'd just leave him at the airport while I--"
I ducked away from his warm wandering hands, but I couldn’t help laughing. "Okay, you. Did you lock up downstairs when you came in from your swim?"
"Not yet." He started to turn back toward the stairs, but I waved him away.
"It's all right," I said. "You, go put on something presentable. I'll take care of the house. As usual."
"Thank you," he said. He dropped a kiss into my hair as he passed.
I slid past him and ran down the basement steps. Maybe this weekend, while he was with Liam, I'd be able to get some distance and make sense of how to handle the Robert Delaney Situation.
I reached the bottom of the stairs, looking out over the rich cherry floors of the rec room, and realized that as much as I knew I couldn't trust him with my heart, I also shouldn't trust him to put his damn towels in the washing machine. His towel was dripping wet, tossed over the arm of the gray linen couch. I picked it up, regarding the wet spot it left behind in dismay. What was he thinking?
He wasn't thinking. He was rich. He didn't have to think.
It was his stuff to ruin, but the fact that it was all his and he cared so little about it just made me feel more irritated. I took the towel to the laundry room, feeling my shoulders growing tense. I thought of my ridiculous marriage fantasy earlier and felt a prickling sense of my own stupidity. No one married the maid.
I went back upstairs. I could hear the shower running. I hesitated, but he had left the door ajar and the sheets, the damn sheets, were still my job. I went in.
As I stripped off the old sheets and bundled them in my arms to take to the laundry chute down the hall, I breathed in the salty scent of the ocean and the pleasantly musky, warm smell of Rob's body as well as that peppermint soap. The scent brought me right back to his panting face close to mine, his eyes dark with lust. I felt a ripple of desire.
The shower cut off. I hurried to get a set of clean, ironed sheets from the linen closet. My heart rate sped up in a hurry to get out of the room before Rob caught me in the act of tending him. It’s what I was paid to do. I didn't know why it seemed so important to get out of his room before he came out of the bathroom, but now I regretted stripping his bed. As I spread the crisp sheets across the mattress, running my hand across expertly to smooth every last wrinkle before tucking the sheets in tightly, I breathed in the honeysuckle scent of linen spray. It was another of the thoughtful touches my parents had taught me as I worked in the family business, and s normally loved to inhale deeply as I made up the beds. Today, though, the light floral scent seemed pale in comparison to Rob's deep, manly scent.
"You don't have to do that," he said from the doorway. He was, thankfully, dressed, in dark jeans and a button-down shirt. "Trust me, I don't sleep on fresh sheets every night at home."
"It's in the contract," I said, straightening to toss his pillows side-by-side against the headboard. They fell crooked, and I immediately regretted the moment of carelessness. "Anyway, it's done."
"But I'm in a hurry to muss the sheets again," he murmured, closing the distance between us. His eyes were going dark and soft, those bedroom eyes again, but then he paused. "Did you roll your eyes at me?"
"Did I?" I wasn't sure; I certainly hadn't meant to roll my eyes. Not at a client. "Anyway, don't tell me I don't need to do something that's part of my job. It's not like doing this is demeaning. It's my work, it's valuable."
"Of course it's not demeaning," he said. "I never said that. I didn't want you to waste the effort, that's all."
"Mm hmm." I wanted to believe him, but I wasn't sure I did. Wouldn't a man like him want a beautiful, polished woman on his arm, if we ever left this little bubble?
He tilted his head at me curiously, but before he could say anything else I moved toward the doorway. "We had better go get Liam."
"He's not going anywhere," Rob promised, reaching out to catch my hand.
I lifted my hands up to my
shoulders, palms out, wanting to signal that his touch wasn't welcome. But I tried to put a smile into my voice. "You are such a mean older brother."
"Can't ruin the family dynamics now. He'd be disappointed." He followed me toward the door. "Is there something wrong?"
"No," I said.
"Uh huh," he said. "I have pretty extensive training on reading people, and you seem like there's something wrong."
"I'm fine."
As they reached the top of the stairs, he said, "You can change my sheets every day if you want. You can make me breakfast, too. I want you to be happy."
"You've got jokes."
"That time you definitely rolled your eyes."
I was fiercely aware of him as he followed me down the stairs, the lithe way he moved that tall, broad-shouldered body. I was also unfortunately aware of how stiff and awkward my gait was. I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me, continuing to read more than I wanted to tell him.
"We have that nice long ride in the car. I'll get it out of you." His voice was low, sexy, amused.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and started across the floor, my sneakers squeaking on the wood.
"Naomi." His voice was soft but commanding, and all the irritation I felt— and the real, old hurt— flared into stark relief at that tone. He was so sure of himself. So sure of me.
I whirled. "What?"
"You are mad," he said, closing the distance between us again, looming over me with his spicy scent and his gorgeous body, as if he knew what he did to me. "What is it? What did I do?"
"Nothing," I said. "You're just a Delaney."
His brows drew together, and I was surprised by the anger those flippant words seemed to draw. "You're going to have to break that one down for me.”
I hesitated. Maybe I owed him an explanation. Maybe an apology. Maybe I should let him be mad, make him show some emotion beside lust and self-confidence.
He quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chiseled chest. “Naomi.”
"Like that," I said, indicating his posture even as I took a step back. "Thinking you have the right to an answer. To say my name like that."
