“That’s not good. Er…okay. Let’s get going. I’m ready to work out.”
Margo saluted him. “Yes, sir.”
They went into her gym. He unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and took it off. Underneath, he wore a muscle shirt and tight gym pants that left little to the imagination—especially in the crotch area. And she couldn’t help gaping.
My, is he ever buff. It appeared as though he’d been even more pumped up than usual. But those biceps of his were his best trait. That, along with the sinewy muscles of his torso, sandy blond hair, and blue eyes.
“Let’s go, Margo. Go deeper on the lunges. You’re cheating.”
She lifted up from a lunge. Her legs were burning. “I am going deep. You’re being a slave driver.”
“One more time around the room. Go!”
He pushed her so hard, but that’s what she’d hired him for. He blew the whistle. “Now let’s get to the treadmill and give me twenty while you’re at it.”
Twenty long minutes on the treadmill at high impact had Margo huffing and puffing. He blew the whistle again. “Now the stair master, another twenty.”
“I’m tired, Seth.”
“You want the body? You’ve got to do the exercise. The pool is next, let’s go.”
She hated that Seth wanted her to do laps after the treadmill. Even though she had a heated pool, it was still cold this time of year. She peeled off her workout clothes. She wore her bathing suit underneath. Then she jumped in and did her laps.
Finished with her swim, Margo pulled herself out of the pool, panting. Now was her chance. “Seth, I made a fabulous meal for dinner. Would you like to join me?”
Seth appeared interested. “Okay, sure, what’s on the menu?”
“I’ve got a lean turkey breast breaded with gluten-free rice flour and encrusted with almond slivers, wild rice, mushrooms, and an organic wine to go with it.”
“Sounds great. I’m in.”
“Jacuzzi first?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
In an unexpected, wild moment of freedom, Margo stripped her bathing suit off and ran, naked, ahead of Seth to the Jacuzzi. He followed her and didn’t lose any time stripping down to nothing before he jumped in. The pool and Jacuzzi were screened in and surrounded by thick foliage so they had ultimate privacy. Margo kissed him, thrusting her tongue deep in his mouth. He returned the kisses with equal fervor.
My. He sure knew how to kiss.
Margo reached under the bubbling water for her prize and found it, good and ready. She went under the water and sucked him. She heard his moans through the water. Seth pulled her out of the water and plunged into her, without hesitation. She felt like a wild animal, riding him as she’d never ridden anyone before. She climaxed in minutes, and Seth followed.
It was too fast, much too fast.
Margo clung onto Seth for a few minutes to catch their breath and then they ran upstairs to the shower, hand in hand, like schoolchildren. This time, Seth was the aggressor. He lathered her up with a loofah. He rubbed her nipples, the warm suds oozing all over. He pushed the loofah between her legs, lingering long enough to arouse her desire again. He turned her around to face away from the showerhead, her back to his chest. Margo had never made love in this position. As if sensing her lack of experience, Seth, was gentle, and she gave into his coaxing. He smoothly and easily entered her.
He held her hips as he slowly pulled out, then slid back in. Margo braced her hands against the shower door as he picked up speed. Each thrust jarred her but felt so good. When she thought she couldn’t stand it a moment longer, a powerful orgasm overtook her, making her tremble all over with pleasure.
Seth quickly moved in and out of her until he found his own orgasm.
Margo had known, without a doubt, he’d be good sexually. He hadn’t disappointed her. They enjoyed the simple meal and a bottle of wine, but then he had to leave. She was slightly disappointed he didn’t stay for the night.
Regardless, she slept like a baby for the first time in months. Clearly, her little fling with Seth was just what she needed. And she didn’t have to leave her humble abode for anything.
****
It was a Thursday, and Margo had no scheduled appointments. No Seth. No Izzie. No housekeeper. She was going stir-crazy in the house, all alone. She wanted to get outdoors and breathe the fresh air on the cool but sunny winter day. A long bike ride at a state park located about a quarter of a mile down the road with an eight-mile trail into the woods might be the answer. It’d be about a two-hour trip. She packed a backpack with a thermos of coffee, fixed with almond milk, and a gluten-free bran muffin. She checked the tire pressure and the brakes on the bike. She rode down her driveway, thankfully unnoticed.
Since it was a weekday, the park was empty. The playing fields for various sporting events were eerily silent. She biked through the wooded trail and reveled in the sounds of nature. It was just her, the birds, the trees, and the dirt trail ahead that led into the woods. About a quarter of the way, she sat by a brook and jotted down her thoughts in a small notebook. She’d been journaling and found it therapeutic. Who knew? Maybe she’d write a book someday.
She got back on the bike and rode through a covered bridge and then hit a sandy patch, which required her to dismount and walk her bike. The picnic area was about fifteen minutes ahead.
She heard the distinctive cry of a blue jay, the singing of the cardinal, the cooing of a mourning dove, and a rustling in the bushes probably made by a rabbit or squirrel.
The movement seemed to follow her. Margo searched the bushes. Oh, no. Did she see a glimpse of denim? She had heard that homeless people camped out here at night but thought the state park security had eliminated the problem. She picked up her pace, walking faster and faster. In her mind, she saw an image of a dirty man in a blue pullover shirt and ripped jeans. The thought scared her. She ran through the sandy patch. Just a little bit more…
Suddenly, a blue flash appeared before her and formed a large man with a reddish beard. Now past the sand, she jumped on her bike and pedaled. Where would she go? She had no weapon. He was running behind her. She could hear him breathing and swore she’d smelled his rancid breath. He must be close. Then, he lunged at her, knocking her and her bike over.
He pulled her backpack off and pinned her to the ground.
She struggled under him, but it was useless. He had the strength of a madman. She had no time to engage self-defense because in minutes he pulled her sweatshirt and sports bra over her head. He squeezed her breasts. She tried to kick him off to no avail. In what seemed like seconds, he had her pants off and his member inside her. Thankfully, she heard the telltale grunt moments later, and it was over.
Oh God, what kind of disease could he have given her?
He rolled off her and ran into the woods. It happened so fast, she wouldn’t be able to identify his face.
As the events raced through her mind, she snapped to and realized she’d just experienced what she could only describe as a day-mare. She was still standing, fully clothed, walking her bike through the sandy patch of soil.
The attack had all been in her head.
She’d imagined the entire situation, but it was as if she’d actually experienced it. She trembled, her breathing labored, ragged. She pushed her bike through the sandy patch, jumped on the seat, and pedaled hard until she entered the picnic area. She sat at a table, pulled out her coffee thermos, and took a long gulp.
Was she losing her mind? Surely, it was safe to ride her bike on this path? There were kayakers at the picnic area. But all she could think about was getting home.
She stuffed the thermos in her backpack and got back on the path, practically ran through the sandy patch, and then pedaled as fast as possible through the wooded trail.
Finally, back in her garage, she stored her bike, entered the house, then locked the door and set the alarm. Panting, she leaned against the door and sucked in a deep sigh of relief. The landline rang. She breathless
ly answered. Carmala.
Margo blurted out the entire experience.
“Whatever possessed you to go out by yourself on a day when no one is around?” Carmala chided.
“I have a concealed weapons license. I should have brought my gun. Don’t worry, I’ll never go again.”
She went on to tell Carmala all about her upgraded security system. And how she never left the front door or garage unlocked.
“You’re going crazy, Margo. You take an incredible risk riding your bike through an isolated section of the park, and yet you’re afraid to go down your driveway for the paper.” Margo heard Carmala’s sigh. “Unfortunately, I’m busy at work. Can you call Izzie and have her come over?”
“I’m fine, really. I’ll just stay in and relax.”
“Just try Izzie. She might be available. I’ll check in with you tomorrow, okay?”
“Yep, talk with you then.”
Margo didn’t feel up to Izzie’s energy level but called her anyway. Margo was relieved when Izzie said she’d be right over. Maybe it’d be good to be around someone rather than being alone.
A hollow pang struck low in her belly. Was she losing it? Maybe she needed a job. Too much free time wasn’t good for anyone. But what would she do? She would take her time, move on, and make it again. Wasn’t it the journey, not the destination, that counted anyway?
Chapter Seventeen
After a few blissful hours of sleep, Carmala awoke Sunday morning. Thank God, she’d set her alarm. She glanced at Guido’s peaceful face, grateful to have him by her side. She left him in bed and padded down to the kitchen to make a pot of extra-strong coffee. She gulped down a cup, poured another, and sipped it as she gathered her things for Palm Beach.
She ran through her mental checklist: carry-on suitcase, briefcase with Maddox research, purse. All she needed to do was take a quick shower.
Oh, the tickets.
She searched her briefcase. Not there. She frantically searched her luggage and purse. Not there either.
Shit! Where the hell did she put the travel itinerary folder? It had the damned tickets!
“Babe, what’s wrong?”
The racket she created in her panic must have woken Guido.
“I can’t find my travel documents!”
“Maybe you left them at the office.”
She thought a minute. Yes, dammit, she did leave the folder there, in her drawer. She meant to take it with her. Even reminded herself to put it in her briefcase, but had forgotten at the last minute.
“Call a cab and tell them to get here now,” Carmala screamed.
Guido scrambled for the phone and made the call. “They’ll be here in ten minutes. You’ll have plenty of time to go by the office.”
“I hope beyond hope it’s there.” Carmala bolted up the steps and jumped in the shower. She quickly washed and changed into a pair of jeans and a top.
Guido appeared to be concerned. “Calm down, babe. You’ll make it. You have plenty of time.”
She spent the next minutes gathering her things and getting ready.
A horn blared from outside.
“The cab’s here.” Carmala ran down the stairs.
Guido followed. “Let me help you with the luggage.”
He put her luggage in the trunk. “All right, babe. Be good. Work hard.” He pulled her into a hug.
“Bye, honey.”
****
Carmala got to the airport by eleven thirty. The flight was at one. She only had a carry-on, so she cruised through security and arrived at her gate with time to spare. Then she realized her briefcase was gone.
For the love of God! What the hell was wrong with her?
She rushed to security and located the TSA agent who checked her luggage, but he said there wasn’t anything left behind. She went back to the restroom she was in earlier; it wasn’t there. Outside the ladies’ room, she ran into a cleaning lady and asked her about the bag, but she said she hadn’t see it either. Carmala headed back to security, and a man approached her.
“Are you the young lady who lost her briefcase?”
“Yes, I am.”
“We have it, follow me.” He led her to an office to the side of the security lines. “Anything left behind is automatically put in the office.”
He showed her the briefcase. She confirmed that it was hers and produced identification that matched her business card on the case. “Thank you so much.”
“Have a safe flight, ma’am.”
Breathless and hot from running to her gate, she made it just in time for boarding. When she finally settled into her first-class seat, she took several deep breaths. Breathe in positivity, goodness, and harmony. Breathe out negativity, self-doubt, and fear.
She accepted a complimentary mimosa and attempted to relax. Only, the mimosa didn’t take the edge off.
Carmala thumbed through the travel folder, amazed at the detail the staff at Maddox Industries provided. They had included a meeting schedule and an organizational chart of the department heads. Even the paper stock used was first-class, all printed on fine Maddox letterhead.
Over her in-flight breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, and a toasted English muffin, she pored over her research notes she’d compiled over the last several weeks. Michael Maddox was a self-made soon-to-be billionaire who came from a humble, country background.
His horse breeding farms spanned the country from Washington to Colorado, Montana to Pennsylvania. He owned over sixteen hundred acres of valuable equestrian real estate, horseracing tracks in Florida, Kentucky, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, as well as polo-playing grounds in Florida.
He was well known in the industry. A horse bred and trained by Maddox Farms was a sure winner. He appeared frequently on the Palm Beach social scene and was a large contributor to various charitable organizations and community affairs.
Carmala arrived at Palm Beach at four thirty, and a man with a Maddox uniform stood holding a card with her name on it. She approached the man and introduced herself.
He gave a slight bow and took her bags. “Welcome to Palm Beach. My name is Todd, and I’ll be your driver for your stay.” He pulled a water bottle and towel from a small cooler he carried. “Some refreshment, madam?”
The scent of peppermint from the moist cloth filled her senses as she patted her face and forehead with it. She opened the water and swallowed a gulp, quenching her sudden thirst.
“Do you have any checked luggage?”
“No, I don’t.” Carmala drained the rest of the bottle.
Todd handed her another. “Okay, then we’ll go to the car.”
A long green stretch Cadillac limo waited for her outside the terminal. She climbed in. They soon crossed over a bridge onto Palm Beach Island. Carmala took in the amazing stretch of royal palm trees and large, stately buildings of major bank and investment firms.
Imagine working here.
The limo approached the turn-of-the-century building that housed the Palm Beach Garden Inn. Bellhops opened Carmala’s car door and took her luggage. They greeted Carmala by name and provided her with an envelope containing a welcome letter and her room key, having already prechecked her in. This Michael Maddox sure thought of everything.
Her five-inch heels sank into the thick oriental carpets in the front lobby as she marveled at the age-old tapestries on the twenty-five-foot-high walls. Marble columns ran down the hallway lobby area tiled with high-gloss porcelain. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the turquoise Atlantic Ocean.
Her suite included an ocean-view terrace, a living room, and a king-sized bed decorated in a paisley comforter with matching ceiling-to-floor drapes. Cold beverages and a fruit basket stood on a table. And there was a personally written note on Maddox letterhead from Michael.
Welcome, Carmala Rosa! I am excited to finally to meet in person to discuss the expansion of Maddox Industries. Enjoy the remainder of your afternoon at the Palm Beach Garden Inn spa and pools. We’ve taken the liberty of arranging a Sw
edish massage for you at four thirty. Please meet me at the Ocean Bar at seven, and we’ll discuss the week’s plans over drinks and dinner.
Yours very truly,
Michael Maddox.
She could get used to this.
Carmala changed into her favorite red bikini with matching sarong and waterproof designer sandals, and packed her Michael Kors straw bag with a beach towel and book. She strolled down the hallway to the elevator.
She checked in at the spa and sank into the comfort of a plush white chair. A therapist, who introduced himself as Raul, led her into a treatment room. Soft New Age music played in the room. Flickering candles and the scent of lavender permeated her senses. Raul gave her a relaxing but invigorating massage. Afterward, Carmala used the Jacuzzi outside in the still warm sunlight.
At six, she reluctantly repacked her straw bag and treaded along the path to her room. She trembled as she dressed for her meeting. Normally she didn’t get this nervous before a client meeting. She applied her foundation, and while it dried, she selected several outfits from the closet and set them on the bed. It took changing her clothes three times before settling on a conservative but complimentary black knee-length cocktail dress and black kitten heels. She finished her eye makeup and inspected the results in the mirror. The look was simple, chic, and professional.
On the way to the bar, her confidence waned, although she hoped not visibly. She picked him out of a fairly crowded bar area—it had to be Michael Maddox. She set her eyes on what was clearly the most magnificent male creature she’d ever seen. He stood, and as she got closer to him, his dark eyes bore into her dancing with amusement. He greeted her with a dazzling, perfectly dimpled smile as he held his hand out to her.
“It is so good to finally meet the famous Carmala Rosa.”
“Not so famous, but it is me in the flesh.” She could feel her cheeks flush.
He pulled out a stool for her. “I’ve been following your work. Great job on the Smithinsons account. I hope you will provide equal insight into Maddox Industries.”
“You’ve got my promise on that. I’ve done a lot of research and am looking forward to sharing it with you.”
Having Fun with Mr. Wrong Page 20
