Winter’s grip hadn’t yet released its stranglehold, and she flipped on the fireplace. On the floor, she spread out a blanket from the couch while I lit a few candles. We stared awkwardly at each other from opposite sides of the room, searching for something else to set the mood. We acted like we’d never made love before. As though neither of us could process the next step. Who should make the first move?
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I know.” Kat wasn’t usually shy. I found it oddly sensual. She pulled me into her lair as if she was Aphrodite.
We rushed across the room to each other, into a passionate embrace. It didn’t take long for either of us to disrobe. Kat slammed me face-first against the wall, and it took great effort to twist my neck to continue kissing her eager mouth. Stunned by her zeal, my libido kicked up several notches.
She spread my legs with her knee.
“Fuck me. Oh God, Kat, fuck me. I need you inside me.”
Kat entered me, pumping her fingers.
“I need to kiss you,” I begged.
She spun me around, knocking over a small table and reading lamp. Neither of us paid much attention to the carnage. We fell onto the couch, kissing. Once again she separated my legs and inserted her fingers—I estimated she had four inside—frantically thrusting deep.
My head lolled back over the couch’s armrest, and I gasped.
Kat’s teeth grazed my nipple, which hardened instantly as she took it all the way into her mouth. Down below, she continued to thrust inside me.
“I’ve missed you,” I said. “I’ve missed feeling like this.”
Kat sat up, although her fingers dove in deep. “I want to watch you come.” She glanced down at my pussy and slowly trailed her gaze up my writhing body. “I love how you move.” She slid on top of me, never slowing the speed or strength of her penetrating fingers.
“You do this to me.” My back levitated as if by magic. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel this way. So alive.”
I was close; Kat sensed it and pushed in deeper, maneuvering her fingers upward.
A spasm zipped through me, and I groaned and pushed my head into a cushion.
Kat’s fingers were moving furiously now, fucking me as if our lives depended on it.
“Kiss me,” I was practically begging.
Her lips on mine brought me to the threshold of bliss, and one more forceful thrust took me beyond.
Kat didn’t pull away. She didn’t stop fucking me.
I came again—hard, spilling all over her hand. And I kept coming.
“I need to taste you,” I said.
Before she could telegraph her move, we were on the floor and Kat’s legs were spread open for me.
I laughed. “This is the painting I want you to create for me.”
Kat propped herself up on her arms, angled her head all the way back, and raised her ass. “How’s this?” she asked in her bedroom voice.
“Perfect. Don’t move.” I snapped a photo with my phone, admiring how well it turned out considering the low light. Smartphones these days were amazing.
“And now one with the two of us. A naughty selfie, so to speak.” I positioned and snapped.
“Got it?”
I nodded.
“Good, now get to work.”
I saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She pulled me toward her, and we tumbled onto the blanket in front of the fire. My cell phone skittered under the couch, but I’d worry about that later.
I could taste my own wetness on her tongue. “God, I love that.”
Kat nodded, knowing what I meant.
My fingers trailed up and down her side, and she mewled softly in my ear. Watching her body twist under mine in the twinkling candlelight was one of the best feelings. It excited me to get her so completely revved up.
When I took her nipple in my mouth, while entering her below, the catch in her breath nearly made me come again.
How in the world had I managed to win over such an amazing woman?
Kat wrapped my hair around her fingers, tugging slightly and bringing me back to the task at hand.
“Where’d you go?” she asked.
“Thinking how amazing you are.”
She flashed that sexy, crooked smile—not the one she used on people to get her way, but the one she reserved just for me.
“Show me how much you love me.”
I did.
All night long.
***
The following morning, I scanned my iPad for more “news” about Roger. A handful of women had trickled forward so far, keeping the story fresh.
“Why do you bother reading that crap?” Kat placed some French toast on my plate. “Leave it alone. You can’t do anything to stop it.”
“But…” I munched on a slice of veggie bacon.
“But what?” Kat removed her apron and sat down to eat, wearing only a tank top and panties.
“I just hate it.”
“That the news is out there now? Your mom’s right. It’s amazing it never leaked completely before. Your uncle was rich and powerful.”
I sighed. “That doesn’t mean he deserves this.”
“Deserves what? Roger would be the first to tell you it’s all true.”
I angrily sliced into the French toast. “I know,” I said through gritted teeth. “But he’d never want Barbara to deal with this.”
“True, but I think something else is bothering you.”
I squirmed in my chair.
“Tell me.” She stroked the back of my hand with a finger.
“I hate how it makes me feel, seeing it splashed all over the newspapers, on Facebook, Twitter, and God knows how many other platforms I’ve never even heard of for weeks now. The man is dead. Why can’t they leave him be?”
“Is it more than that?” She cocked her head, giving me the time I needed.
“It’s just, all my life I’ve been conflicted about Roger. Seeing these stories, they make it clear what he was and it’s hard to remember I love him. And I don’t want people to think the rest of us are like him. Those thoughts make me feel guilty. He’s always been there for me. But…”
Kat viciously forked a piece of cantaloupe, avoiding my eyes.
“What are your true feelings?” I asked.
Slowly, her eyes rose from her plate. “I… you know how close I am to your aunt.”
I nodded.
“She’s like a mother to me.”
I motioned for her to say it quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“I’ve never respected him. Not completely.”
“I know.” I cast my eyes downward at my plate.
“That’s not to say I didn’t love him, and it’s not to say you should feel…” Kat froze.
“Go on.”
“It’s not my place to tell you how you should feel.”
“What a cop-out!” I flung the rest of the flimsy bacon into my mouth. No matter how hard Kat tried, she could never get it crispy like real bacon.
She jiggled her eyebrows. “Yep, but I’m sticking to it. What you need to remember is no person is all good or all bad. Loving Roger doesn’t make you anything like him.”
I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “I need to get going. Have you seen my phone?”
Kat shook her head. “Not since last night. Have you looked on the floor?”
“Yeah. I thought it was under the couch.” I stood. “I’m sure it’ll show up. I have my backup.” I patted my pocket, leaned down, and kissed the top of her head. “See you at the book signing tonight.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Chapter Nineteen
The bookstore in the heart of the financial district buzzed with excitement. Harold zoomed here and there, ensuring all of our requests were met, including tea with lemon for Mom.
“We bump into each other again.”
I whirled around t
o face Vanessa. “Are you stalking me? First the bar and now here.”
She held up a copy of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. “Nope. I popped in to buy a book for my mom.” Vanessa, in jeans and a pink Sox shirt, surveyed the store. “You really did it.”
“What?”
“Succeeded. Who would have thought all those years ago, you’d be this famous?” She smiled, but it was hard to tell if it was genuine.
I wanted to say, “Serves you right for dumping me,” but didn’t. Instead I went the honest route. “I think most are here for my mom.”
“Ah, still riding Nell’s coattails.” She bumped my shoulder playfully. “If I’d known about this event, I would have planned my trip back better. Mom would have loved seeing you and Nell.” She tossed her arms around my neck. “I’m sorry I have to run.”
“Next time, let’s plan on bumping into each other and catch up.”
“Deal. Good luck tonight.” She vanished behind a book display, presumably heading to the cash registers.
I spied Kat in the classics section and joined her.
“You ready?” Kat rubbed my back.
Was I?
She didn’t push for an answer, luckily.
“I need to pee.”
She tittered. Even back in my basketball days, moments before tip-off, I always experienced the sensation I had to piss, even though the majority of the time nothing happened when I sat on the toilet. The sensation always continued until I made my first basket.
“I’ll see you after you finish signing books. Depending on the line, Barb and I may go to the bar next door.” She playfully shoved me toward the bathroom.
The restroom, mercifully, was deserted. I ran cold water and soaked a paper towel to sponge my face and the back of my neck. The room started to spin, and I glommed onto the counter with both hands. “Oh God.”
Someone entered.
I turned to face a slight woman whose features were unremarkable on all fronts.
She covered the lower half of her face with a purple silk scarf and mumbled through the fabric. “It’s you.”
Puzzled, I nodded.
The woman lowered the protective purple barrier. “You’re Cori Tisdale—you’re speaking here tonight.”
“Guilty as charged. That is if I don’t faint.” I laughed nervously, wishing I could take the statement back. Something about the way she looked at me made me think she knew me inside and out.
She approached carefully. “You okay?” Her eyes darted every which way.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Pregame jitters.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s packed out there. I don’t know how you do it.”
I swiped the towel across my brow. “You trying to psych me out or up?” I joked.
“Sorry! I didn’t—”
“It’s okay. You’d think after all this time I’d be used to speaking in front of people.”
“They say even Broadway stars get butterflies before every performance, and they go on night after night.” She smiled encouragingly. “You can do this.” Her voice was sweet and her expression childlike. I wondered what Charlotte would have looked like at her age.
“Thanks. I think I can do it now, after talking with you.” I stuck my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
She latched onto my hand, pumping it up and down. “This is so exciting. I’m a big fan—huge!”
I clasped my other hand around our conjoined hands. “I can’t thank you enough. But now… showtime.” I winked and she blushed deeply. I disengaged our hands and departed.
Mom sat in an upholstered chair in the front. When she noticed me, she smiled, playfully tapping her watch.
I stopped in my tracks until Roger’s voice boomed in my head encouraging me to kick some ass. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I smeared on my crowd-pleasing face and took my seat.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we’re honored to have Nell and Cori Tisdale speak. Afterward, they’ll sign copies. And I should mention that all the proceeds from tonight’s events will be donated to the neonatal intensive care unit at—”
I tuned out the rest of the introduction, fearful she’d mention Charlotte’s death or the ballyhoo concerning Roger. I didn’t want to focus on our woes. Tonight was about raising money to help other babies.
The host shifted in her chair. “Nell, your latest novel has been compared to Tell the Wolves I’m Home. The main protagonist in your novel is much younger than Cori, but was Cori and the loss of her daughter—your granddaughter—the inspiration?”
I imagined twisting the woman’s head off and tossing it into the Charles.
Mom squeezed my thigh before answering.
I sucked in a ragged breath. This is for you, baby girl.
***
Sixty-three excruciating minutes later, the question and answer session ended and we made our way to the signing table.
“Nell! Cori! Can I get a picture of you two?”
Mom, the consummate professional, ringed my waist with one arm and posed. Several flashes popped, blinding me.
“Stop smiling like a serial killer.” Mom jabbed her elbow into my side.
I tried extinguishing the unnatural smile.
“Just a few more.”
People jostled each other to get a photo.
Harold sensed I was at my breaking point. “Okay, folks. You can get more photos when you get your book signed.”
Mom whispered, “You’re almost done.”
Kat, off to one side, mouthed, “I love you.”
The line snaked all the way through the largest bookstore in Massachusetts.
“Shall we?” I proffered my arm to Mom. “Your fans are waiting.”
She laughed. “Oh, I think one or two are here for you,” she whispered so only I could hear.
I whispered back, “I hope not. Signing books always gives me a hand cramp.”
She rolled her eyes.
Those around us beamed, clearly enjoying seeing mother and daughter bantering back and forth. If only they knew.
The minutes clipped along easily, and much to my surprise, every person in line had at least one of my books.
Someone plonked down all four of my published works. I glanced up and smiled at the woman who had talked me off the ledge in the bathroom. If it wasn’t for her purple scarf, I wouldn’t have been able to pick her out in a police lineup; she was so shy and mousy looking.
“Well, hello again.”
“You were great this evening,” she gushed.
“Why thank you. Couldn’t have done it without your support.” I winked.
The comment caught Mom’s ear. “Hi, I’m Nell.”
“Mom, this woman found me in the bathroom—”
“Let me guess. My daughter was in the midst of a panic attack.” Mom chortled.
At first the woman glared, but her expression eased when I joined my mom in laughter.
“You know it. Every single time.”
Mom read the spines of the woman’s hardcovers and reached behind her chair to extract a copy of her new release, autographing it. “On the house. Anyone who comes to my daughter’s aid is a friend.”
“Wow! Thank you.”
The next person in line cleared her throat, and mom ushered her forward to her side of the table.
I started to sign the woman’s books. “Who should I make this out to?”
“How about To my new bff?”
“Now why didn’t I think of that?”
A grin split her face in half. “I have a podcast where I interview authors. It’d be an honor to host you.”
“Is that right?” I caught Harold’s eye, and he moved quickly to my side. “This is the man you want to talk to. He handles all media requests.”
Her eyes lit up when I uttered media requests. “Wonderful. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank fate.” I nearly gagged on the word, unsure why I said
it. Interacting with fans always forced my bumbling nature to the fore.
Harold whisked her off to the side.
Even though the woman was as nice as they came, my energy was severely flagging. Acting normal and charming, on tonight of all nights, was no mean feat. My eyes sought out Kat, but she must have been in the bathroom, or at the bar next door with Barbara.
“Next,” Mom chirped, sounding brighter than I’d ever heard her. She jabbed me in the ribs with one elbow before turning back to the never-ending line of fans.
Chapter Twenty
The following morning, I returned from my run to find Harold and Kat at the kitchen table, pouring over the paperwork the lawyers needed for our visa applications.
“Oh, Cori.” Harold glanced up. “The woman from the signing last night—she’s the blogger, In the Shadows, who came to your defense months ago when G-Dawg went on the attack.”
I peeled a banana, resting against the counter on the far side to spare them from my runner’s stink. “No shit. In the Shadows is really a person.”
“Way shit.”
Kat met my eyes, and her thin lips cautioned me about teasing Harold. He was still fragile from being dumped.
“So is she legit? If I remember correctly, you and Barb wanted to check her out. Make sure she’s not some crazy à la Kathy Bates in Misery.”
“She seems okay to me. A bit over the top, but she has passion. Her blog and podcast are still relatively small potatoes, but I think it’d be worthwhile. We talked briefly, and she’s sharp. Knows the publishing world.”
I tossed a hand in the air. “Book it, then. I stumbled across a photo of Obama doing a podcast in some dude’s garage the other day. If podcasts are good enough for the president, they’re good enough for me.”
“How very open of you,” Kat joshed.
“You know me. Always on the lookout for the next trend.” I finished off the banana. “We still on for late lunch at my mom’s?”
“Yes. I might be late. I’m meeting Gertie for coffee beforehand. And don’t forget dinner with Phineas tonight.”
I groaned. “How could I forget?”
Confessions From the Dark Page 19