Maybe the twins weren’t so bad.
By Wednesday or Thursday, she’d have the manual done and off to the boys at Fletcher for final red-lines. Which meant there’d be no work for a few days. Maybe she should take the twins to the beach on Sunday. Try out the Giant Dipper at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. The coach and his son could come with them. Yeah, great idea. She’d love to see Gray in swim trunks, water sluicing down his chest as he came out of the waves. Oh yeah. Fabulous idea.
It actually felt good to be able to make plans. She hadn’t made weekend plans with a man in ten years. It was new. It was exciting. It was special. And she didn’t think that was an illusion.
She was digging in to her half hour of work when her little Skype window popped up. Damn. Hadn’t the boys already talked to Andrea this morning? Since she hadn’t hidden her address, she had no choice but to answer. Andrea knew she was there.
Her sister’s face filled the screen. As usual, she was too close to the webcam. “Where are the boys?” Andrea yelled.
“They’re down at the pool.” Lola modulated her voice.
“Did you remember to tell them to put on their sunscreen?”
“They’re old enough to figure that out for themselves.”
“They’re kids, Lola. They won’t think about it until they’ve got skin cancer.”
Andrea always called them kids or boys. Lola did the same thing. But they were almost adults. “Let’s just assume they have good judgment about it.” If you believed them capable of doing something right, they could actually become capable of it. A chicken could definitely change its spots.
“Speaking of judgment, Lola, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
Andrea loved their mother’s clichés, too. “Pick away,” Lola said. She’d been picked at by the best of them, Mike. But Gray thought she was perfect. She might just start believing it.
“They said you let them eat out last night.” Andrea’s eyes went wide. “Unsupervised.” Ah, so she had talked to the twins already.
“As I recall,” Lola said, “they’re capable of feeding themselves. I certainly haven’t had to hold a fork for them or cut their meat.”
Andrea glared bug-eyed. “I mean they had hamburgers and fries. All that fat. They’ll die of coronaries.”
“They’ve been getting a lot of exercise every day at the football camp. I’m sure one burger didn’t harden any arteries.”
“You’re creating bad habits.”
Lola crossed her arms, sitting back from the monitor so her sister could fully appreciate the position. “You know, Andrea, I think you should eat the chocolates instead of throwing them out.”
Andrea’s features wrinkled. “What?”
“The chocolates Ethan gives you after you’ve had an argument.”
“How do you know about the chocolates?” Andrea sputtered.
Lola ignored the question. “I think you should eat them and savor them and share them with the whole family. Let Ethan know you appreciate his effort.” She moved in, letting her face fill the little window and the big screen her sister could see. “Now that would teach the twins a really nice habit. Tolerance and forgiveness.” She put her hand on the mouse. “Gotta go. I told them I’d be down at the pool in half an hour. See you soon. Enjoy yourself at the next party.” She clicked the hang-up button and turned off Skype.
Half an hour later, she was ensconced on a chaise longue, sunglasses shading her eyes. The twins cavorted in the pool with three other teenagers, two girls and a guy. Marco Polo or some such thing. She’d had to borrow the twins’ sunblock. See, they did know all about UV protection. She’d slathered it on because she certainly didn’t want to ruin the skin Coach thought was so lovely.
Lola picked up her phone, punched Charlotte on speed dial.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Charlotte sounded breathless.
“Did you know that people tend to live down to your expectations?” Lola mused.
“Well, they could live up to them. It depends on the expectation.”
“I mean that if you think they’re going to do everything wrong, they usually do. If you tell them they’re failures, they usually are.”
“Ah, yeah, that can actually happen.”
“So I’m giving the twins the benefit of the doubt. No more assuming they’re going to misbehave. I’m going to assume they’ll be perfect.”
“Hello? Is this my friend Lola Cook?”
Lola laughed. “Yes, it is. After all your hours and hours of counseling me, I finally figured out that if you expect that a man’s going to reject you, so you make sure you reject him first, then obviously you’ll never get hurt. But you’ll never have a relationship either.”
“Wow, that’s profound.”
She wasn’t sure if Charlotte was being facetious. “I know.”
“Does that mean you rejected Gray? Or he rejected you? Or . . .” Charlotte let the question hang.
Lola glanced to the left, to the right, straight ahead, and decided she was clear to speak. “It means that I let him tie me to his bed and do a lot of nasty things to me. And”—she paused dramatically—“I told him I wanted a relationship.” Actually, he’d dictated that they’d have one. But she was in full agreement. And then he’d said he loved her. She was in full agreement on that, too.
Charlotte gasped. “So give me all the dirty details.”
And Lola told her everything.
* * *
TUESDAY JUST BEFORE ELEVEN, GRAY HAD HIS GUYS LINED UP FOR A chase drill.
“Stu and Rafe, you first.” Gray clapped his hands.
Rafe barreled down the field with the ball. It was neck and neck, so to speak. Stu was supposed to focus on the tackle first before attempting to cause a fumble. In the end, Rafe kept the ball, but Stu had given it a valiant effort. And so had Rafe. His son had really made the effort. “Good job, guys.” He clapped his approval.
The sun beat down on his head. When they were done with this drill, he’d have them break for a drink and a power bar.
“Okay, Harry and William.” Hands on his knees, he squatted slightly to watch their form. Not bad. Not as good as Stu and Rafe. But their hearts had never been in the game. Nevertheless, they executed passably and he gave them their kudos.
When they’d first arrived this morning, they’d apologized for their part in Lola’s harassment. Gray had accepted without reservation.
Lola had been fifteen minutes late picking them up Sunday night. Monday at work he’d barely been able to focus, muscles aching, reminding him of each and every delightfully dirty erotic act they’d performed in their five perfect hours. Now he was dying to have her at his mercy for a whole weekend. Monday night Rafe had come over for dinner. After Sunday, Gray could definitely confirm Lola was here to stay. His son had actually said he was happy for him. He had no illusions that everything was resolved for good, that Bettina’s jealousy wouldn’t rear its head again, or that Rafe wouldn’t side with his mother if it came down to another battle, but they had a working truce and a more open line of communication. It was a damn good start, the best he’d had in five long years.
“Excellent.” Tom and Peter. Good boys. He had high hopes they’d make the high school team this year. He thought Stu had a damn good chance, too.
With the last drill executed, he clapped, then pointed. “To the tables and feast yourselves.”
They ran in one big herd. Gray headed in the same direction at a slower pace. Then a glint of silver caught his eye at the far side of the field by the gate. A flash of white morphed into a figure. A tall woman, long brown legs, tanned bare shoulders, blue tank, denim skirt, silky black hair.
His heart settled into a faster beat. She was early. They had another hour of practice to get through.
But Lola came on, a sweet sway to her hips. His motor was purring, his mouth a little dry. At the table, he raised a bottle of water to his lips and drank thirstily, his eyes on her.
She didn’t stop until she was at his
side. The kids stared. She was a fine-looking woman, especially to an old man like him.
Harry and William said in unison, “Hi, Aunt Lola.”
“Hey, guys.” She wrapped her hand around Gray’s arm. Then slowly went up on her toes and put her lips on his.
Jesus. What she did to him. His temperature hit one-oh-one and kept on climbing. And she hadn’t even said a word to him. It was her sexy, sweet scent and the memory of what she’d done with that mouth just two nights ago.
Then she slipped back down to flat feet on the grass, and his world straightened.
“Hey, Coach, can I watch your players practice?”
He opened his mouth, and it took two seconds for his answer to come. “Sure.” Wow. Very eloquent.
Then she flashed a look across to the huddle by the table. “That okay with you guys?”
“Sure, Aunt Lola.” Harry or William, he didn’t look.
The others sounded off in variations of Sure, Why not, and Heck yes.
Gray looked at Rafe. His son was smiling, not big, not snide, just . . . a smile. Which was an improvement. Then he said, “Sounds great, Lola.”
Gray wanted to touch her. He wanted to lick her. But some things just weren’t appropriate.
Then Rafe broke away from the group and loped over, the twins almost right on his heels. “Lola.” He swallowed, looked back at Harry and William, then opened his mouth and started again. “I’m sorry for what I did. It was wrong.”
Gray felt a loosening in his chest and an ache right behind his eyes. He hadn’t coached Rafe on this, but his son was beginning to learn. He was even taking his lumps in front of the two younger boys.
“Thank you for the apology, Rafe. I accept.” Lola stuck out her hand.
This time Rafe shook it. “And I didn’t mean to let your cat out.”
She nodded. “The twins told me it was an accident.” Then she tipped her head. “I thought I’d take them over to the Boardwalk in Santa Cruz on Sunday. You think you and your dad would like to come?”
Gray looked at his son, waited, his heart damn near clogging his throat.
Then Rafe said, “That would be great.” He turned to Gray. “Dad, can I drive?”
“We want to drive because we have to get in our practice hours,” Harry argued. And the two started a good-natured back-and-forth.
Gray reached out, touched Lola’s hand, then wrapped her fingers in his. She smiled.
Then he smiled, knowing exactly what she was thinking. If they kept arguing, he’d have a reason to send her to the naughty corner tonight.
Keep reading for an excerpt from the next book by Jasmine Haynes
TEACH ME A LESSON
Available April 2014 from Heat Books
CHARLOTTE WORKED TUESDAYS AND THURSDAYS AS A GUIDANCE COUNSELOR at the same high school she’d graduated from twenty years ago. She had, in fact, planned her future in this very office, from the opposite side of the desk. Carpeting had been installed over the linoleum tiles, but the desk was the same, its veneer slightly more battered, as was the credenza beneath the window, though now it was filled with her files. She’d requisitioned a small conference table and four accompanying chairs, two of which sat in front of the desk, and her chair—which she’d bought herself—was ergonomic.
She spent money when it was necessary—like on the ergonomic chair—and she pinched her pennies on things that didn’t matter—like brown-bagging it. Brown-bagging could be much healthier since you chose your own ingredients. Pinching the pennies was worth it.
Sometimes she ate her lunch outside, but today, seated at her small conference table, she gazed out the blinds at a sky that was heavy with dark clouds, rain threatening at any moment. Last week, Halloween had been gorgeous, in the seventies, warm enough for short sleeves, but come November, the temperature had dropped and the clouds rolled in. November in the San Francisco Bay Area was typically one of the rainier months, though not always. Sometimes the beginning of the month brought a deluge while on Thanksgiving Day you could practically eat outside. That’s what she loved about the Bay Area, the variety.
Since she had a student meeting at one o’clock, Charlotte should have been studying the file open on the conference table in front of her. Instead she was thinking about spanking, not the discipline kind, but the fun kind. Lola loved her sex play with Gray Barnett, though even after three months, she was still scant on details. But these days, Lola damn near glowed. Charlotte didn’t think it was just the kinky sex. It was Gray. For the first time in ten years, Lola had a real relationship. Charlotte was happy for her best friend.
But she kept thinking about spanking. And wild sex. And how long it had been since she’d had sex, wild or not. Besides, as a therapist, it was her duty to find out what this bondage thing was really like from an experiential perspective. Although she’d start with just the spanking. And damn if she didn’t get hot and bothered thinking about that. She wanted to try it. Needed to. If she’d heard this kind of sentiment from a client, she’d have started using the word obsession, but Charlotte wasn’t obsessed, just curious. Highly curious. Extremely. Okay, maybe slightly obsessed with sex itself and the lack of it in her life for the past six months.
All right, work, she needed to stop daydreaming. Flipping a page in the folder, she absently stabbed a fork into her salad. Somehow the plastic tub had moved—God only knew how or when—and her fork almost upended the container. She grabbed the fork clattering on the table, spraying balsamic dressing across another folder, but she managed a magnificent save before the entire salad was tossed to the beige carpet. The only casualty was her apple, which tumbled off the table and rolled under the desk. Hopefully the carpet saved it from bruising.
She went down on her hands and knees, stretching an arm beneath the desk, her face and chest practically smushed to the carpet before she could reach the errant apple. Ah, got it.
“Lose something, Miss Moore?”
Charlotte gave a tiny squeak and banged her shoulder on the underside of the desk. She snapped up straight, the apple in her lap, and smoothed her skirt down over her knees with one hand.
Principal Hutton lounged in her doorway, arms crossed over his white shirt and red tie, shoulder braced on the jamb.
Damn. Busted with her butt in the air.
“Are you all right?” he asked politely.
“I’m fine.” Her shoulder only smarted a little. She held up the apple. “A delinquent. Tried to hide from me under the desk, but I found it out.”
Principal Hutton raised a brow. “I trust you didn’t bruise its fragile ego.”
“Oh no, never.” She waved the apple in the air. “Absolutely bruise free.”
She was in a unique position, sitting back on her calves. Principal Hutton, at six-one or so, had always towered over her petite height of five-two-and-a-half—okay, maybe it was a quarter instead of a half—but from down here, he was a veritable giant, his chest broad, his shoulders wide, his thighs muscled from his daily runs. He was definitely attractive, she’d never questioned that, with salt-and-pepper hair, swarthy skin, and sharp, aristocratic features. And all those muscles. His female students were in awe of him. Not so Charlotte. At forty-eight, he was ten years older than her. And she liked her men younger. Once, a long time ago, she’d almost married a man who was more than ten years older. After a narrow escape, she’d realized that if she wanted autonomy in her life, in her career, and in her relationship, she’d be far better off with a younger man, one who would cede control to her. Only when it needed ceding, of course.
Yet, from down here on the floor, she was seeing Principal Lance Hutton in a whole new light. Or maybe it was the spanking thing infecting her thinking. Whatever the reason, he was suddenly more than merely attractive. He was big, he was strong, he was sexy.
She’d be willing to bet that receiving a spanking from Principal Hutton would be incredibly hot. And his age wouldn’t matter at all. In fact, it would elevate the experience to mind-blowing.
; Yes, yes, yes, Principal Hutton was the man she needed for this new adventure she intended to embark on.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
With a bachelor’s degree in accounting from Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo, Jasmine Haynes has worked in the high-tech Silicon Valley for the last twenty years and hasn’t met a boring accountant yet! Okay, maybe a few. She and her husband live with numerous wild cats, one of whom has now moved into the house. Jasmine’s pastimes, when not writing, are speed-walking in the Redwoods, watching classic movies, and hanging out with writer friends in coffee shops. She is the author of classy erotic romance and the popular Max Starr paranormal romance mystery series, and also writes quirky, laugh-out-loud romances as Jennifer Skully. Visit her at jasminehaynes.com and jasminehaynes.blogspot.com.
The Naughty Corner Page 26
