“Miss Davis, how nice of you to drop by,” Chase said. Dressed in a white shirt and jeans, he looked different this way. I almost didn’t recognize him.
Bending one leg up, Abby leaned far over the pool table, her stick ready to strike. “Hey there, Girlfriend,” she called out, then sunk the cue ball with a loud crack. “Yes!” She jumped up, fist bumped the air, then rubbed her knuckles on her chest. “I believe you owe us two beers,” she told her husband with a grin.
“You got it, babe.”
“Then Chase. Go do it before I change my mind.”
Do what?
Chase placed his pool stick in the wall rack. “You sure, baby?” He pulled her to him, kissed her on the head. “We don’t have to do this,” he said. “Not yet.”
“I want to,” replied Abby. “I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
A servant entered, gave Abby and I each a beer. Not really my choice of beverage but under the circumstances... I popped the top and took a slow drink.
“Guess it doesn’t matter now,” Abby said, doing the same thing. Her face was glum, the look of triumph gone within seconds.
Chase planted a kiss on his wife’s head “I know you will, brave girl. Okay, I’m going to go now, darling. You girls have fun.”
Once, we heard the front door close behind him, Abby burst into tears.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
She stepped out of my arms, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “He’s going to return some of the baby stuff we bought and cancel the registry.”
“I know this is a difficult time,” I said. “In fact, it positively sucks. But you can’t give up on having a child. You and Chase are meant to be parents.”
She looked at me head on, and for the first time I saw how puffy and red her eyes were. She was wearing a thin T-shirt and shorts. I realized too, with a shock, that she’d lost a lot of weight. Why hadn’t I seen this all before?
Because you were too wrapped up in that ridiculous romance with the Remington Player. That’s why.
“We’re not going to have a baby, Charlotte. Ever.”
“But...”
“I can’t go through this again. This is the fourth time and each time is harder than the first. We tried and we tried and now the doctor says there’s something wrong with my blood. Can you believe it?! After all this time, now they tell me!”
“Oh, Abby.” I wrapped her in my arms and she cried softly on my shoulder for several minutes.
“Know what the worst part is?”
“No.”
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever really wanted. I’d give all this away. The house. The furniture. The money. If only I could have a child one day.”
“It will happen.”
“Chase mentioned adoption.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.”
“Of an older child.”
“Okay.”
“A much older child.”
“Oh. Well at least you’d skip potty training.”
She laughed. “I guess that’s a plus, right?”
“Yup.”
She scrunched up her face, took a sip of her beer. “Speaking of potty training... My sister has two children, did I ever tell you that?”
“You don’t have a sister.”
“She’s not really my sister.” She bobbed her head side to side. “Well she sort of is. My step-sister actually. Anyway, she has a kid who painted the walls of her family room with feces.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah, can you imagine this place with feces-painted walls?”
Our eyes followed the high plush carpet in rich olive tones accented with burgundy and beige. Above that was embossed wallpaper in peaches and cream. Two years it took Abby to pick out that wallpaper. She’d purchased it from Poland.
“No feces,” I said. “Definitely wouldn’t match the carpet.” We both laughed so hard, beer came out our noses.
Chapter 16
Charlotte
MONDAYS WERE THE WORST when you worked the night-shift. On the weekend I slept like a normal person, which was a problem on Monday night because I wasn’t tired during the day, so I’d struggled to take my customary nap before work. In the end, I’d given up on the nap. Stanford. Abby. Zac. It was all spinning in my head.
By three in the morning, I’d been up eighteen hours. The only reason I’d not dozed off, even for a few minutes, was from all the Red Bulls I drank.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Charlotte and the miscarriage. It bothered me that she might be giving up on her dream to have a baby. And dreams, I believed, were meant to be cherished. Fought for. Hung onto for dear life. If one didn’t have dreams, and worked toward those dreams, what else was there to live for? That’s exactly how I felt about going to school. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy and it certainly wasn’t the same thing as having a child, but I knew how I’d feel if Stanford didn’t accept my application. Or if I couldn’t pay the tuition. I still didn’t know how I would eventually pay for it.
The room where management had their meetings—was a complete disaster—from the wet leaves someone tracked all over the carpet, to a can of Coke spilled under one of the tables. Littered with cookie crumbs, crumpled up sub wrappers, and six full ashtrays—I was shocked that people actually smoked in there. It took me a full forty-eight minutes to clean that room alone. It usually took ten. When I was finished, I was so tired by the end, it was an effort to wrap the cord around the vacuum-cleaner.
Ready to collapse, I’d finally allowed myself to put my feet up on a faux leather sofa in the break room. My feet ached so I took off my shoes.
As I rubbed my swollen arches, I caught the flutter of white fur out of the corner of my eye as the stray cat ran by, then Zac’s handsome face filled my vision.
“Hey, gorgeous. Want some help with that?” He was wearing a leather jacket, a black and grey scarf tied at his neck, carrying a large gold gift bag tied with curly ribbons.
“I’m fine,” I said more coolly than I’d planned. Despite my head telling me not to let my guard down, my heart fluttered at the sight of him. I kept picturing him in that secret room, the yearning in his lust-filled eyes, the way the heat of his skin felt like velvet. I dropped my feet with a thump, sitting upright as Zac slid over on the couch beside me.
With his hair swept upwards, I had a good look at his turquoise blue eyes. There was warmth there. And hope. Hope for a future between us or was it simply desire? Desire for anyone in a skirt.
Strong hands shifted my hair to one side. He kissed my bare neck. “I’ve missed you, Charlotte.”
Don’t you dare kiss him back.
“What do you want, Zac? And don’t say you want to show me a special room.”
“I came to give you this.” He handed me the gift bag.
“What’s this for?”
“Open it.”
I pulled a large silver-wrapped box out of the bag. “It’s not my birthday, just so you know.”
He smiled. “I don’t actually know when your birthday is but thanks. That narrows it down to three-hundred-and-sixty-four dates.” The grin grew wider.
He was so damn cute, I didn’t know how to respond, so I ripped the paper to shreds and opened the box. “Oh my,” I said, my heart swelling. Inside was a leather briefcase with my initials embossed in gold. “It’s lovely, Zac but what if I don’t get in?”
“You will and now you have the first installment of your school supplies.”
I ran my hand over the smooth texture. “This is so nice. Thank you, Zac.”
“I also want to say I’m sorry. I was an asshole for leaving you. In the basement I mean. I’ve been trying to take you on a date. A real date.”
“Oh? Did you have a friend you wanted to set me up with?”
“With me. A date with me.”
I laughed. The sadistic side of me enjoyed seeing him squirm. Not that I wouldn’t put it past him to go out with another woman. “You’ve been trying to set up a date
to take me somewhere? Since when?”
“Since the whole closet episode. Unfortunately, everything seems to be getting in our way.”
“Leaving me in the basement was not nice. Fun as hell. But not nice. You should have called me that day, Zac.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You could have at least called the next day.”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Work. I know that sounds lame but it’s true.”
“More accounting troubles.”
“What else. It’s taking all my free time.” There was an intensity in his face I’d only seen once before, but his features smoothed away quickly. “But I’m here now. Will you give me a chance to get back in your good graces?”
What could I say? It was probably the nicest gift any man had ever given me. Truth be known, I’d forgiven him long ago. Still, I wasn’t letting him off the hook. I needed to know how he felt.
“Please,” he said with a grin. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”
“Maybe this is a mistake.” I slid over on the couch.
“Because we work together?” He slid closer. “Because technically, we don’t. Different shifts. Different departments. Nothing about that says co-worker. Pardon me for stating the obvious but, we contract you from that cleaning company you work for.”
Cleaning company. God, I can’t believe this is my life.
I motioned between the two of us. “And this. What is this, anyway? What we have I mean.”
“Friends. We’re friends, Charlotte.”
Why did that word, friend, stab me in the heart?
“But you have a lot of friends. Some say too many, and by the way, I don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Have too many friends. I don’t go around making friends in closets either.”
His face screwed up in confusion.
“Let me be clear. I try to be very selective when I do form new...friendships.” I made quotations marks in the air. “It’s something special. I don’t take it lightly. I don’t go around making friends all the time.”
Understanding dawned in his dark stubbled face, his eyes appeared sad, his brows deeply furrowed, like something was missing and he didn’t know what to do about it. I got the feeling; there was more to Zachary Taylor than the free-floating playboy.
Zac reached for my hand, brought it to his lips. He kissed the tips of my fingers one by one. Then he wrapped me in his arms. “You know, I haven’t had a friend in a really long time.” He frowned. “You don’t believe me. I can tell.”
I lifted a shoulder, let it fall.
“Why don’t you believe me, Charlotte?”
“I’ve heard stories.”
“Margo,” he said as if that explained everything.
“Who’s Margo?”
“My...mother. She likes to set me up on dates once in awhile. Or try to.”
“Like I said, you’ve had a lot of friends.”
“Not really. I rarely make a second date with any of them.”
“So if they aren’t friends, what would you call them?” I scooted away a few inches.
“Acquaintances?”
“So you use them,” I said matter-of-factly.
“Actually, they use me. Sometimes they just want to be seen in public on my arm. Some are looking to land a rich husband. No matter who it is.”
“Oh.”
“So will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Be my friend, and let me make it up to you for jumping you in a closet and so rudely leaving you in the basement.”
“Well, since you put it that way...”
The corners of his mouth lifted into a grin. There was a rustle of leather as he stood. He tossed the jacket, he’d slipped out of, along with his scarf onto a nearby chair.
“Okay. What did you have in mind?”
“I have this talent...” His saucy grin filled up his face. “I’m told it’s pretty amazing,” he continued. Now, close your eyes and turn around.”
Hesitating, I said, “Should I be...scared?”
“No,” he said laughing. Then, with both hands on my shoulders, he whispered in my ear. “Relax, Charlie. Allow my fingers to send you to la-la land.” He pulled me to him, straddled me with his legs.
Everything in the room evaporated and all I could do was...feel. His fingers along my neck. Strong and firm, as he pressed down with the pads of his thumbs. I felt weightless. Endorphins flooded my bloodstream.
The effect was immediate, all of my muscles relaxed one by one; a sense of complete and total tranquility overtook my body. “This. Is. So. Nice. Really, really nice, Zac.” I sensed his smile against my cheek as he rubbed my knotted shoulders. I’d always been a sucker for back and shoulder rubs.
I groaned and Zac hesitated behind me. “The sounds you’re making. They’re strangely similar to... You’re killing me, you know that?”
Giggling, I reached around, grabbed hold of his stiffening cock. “No. I’d say you’re very much alive.”
He continued to press thumbs and fingers into my eager flesh. Foreplay, I thought. “Mmmm, yeah. Just like that.”
“I need to reach more skin. Get you more relaxed. But this shirt is so...so...” I could feel him tugging, the buttons small, too small for the holes they were crammed inside.
Ping!
“Sorry.” He’d ripped the neckline of my uniform so roughly, that the top two buttons went skidding across the floor. Without saying a word, he kissed my collarbone with hot, moist lips. His hair tickled my chin.
“Are you relaxed for me now?”
“Uh huh.”
“Good. Let’s have a conversation, shall we?”
“Now?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“But I’m enjoying...”
“Playtime later. Believe me, there’s time for both.”
“Oh alright,” I pouted. “But keep your hands busy.”
He laughed. “Alright.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“For starters, I want to help you.”
“What do you mean, help me?”
“You work too hard. I see how exhausted you are all the time. I could help you with that. I wouldn’t mind. In fact, I’d like to help you.” His hands stopped moving. “Oh, now don’t go stiffening up on me again.”
“I don’t need your money, Zac. I’d appreciate if you don’t offer any.”
“I get it. You want to make your own way.”
“Yeah.”
“But what if you can’t...”
“Can’t pay my tuition?”
“Right.”
“I have a backup plan.”
“A backup plan,” he repeated.
“Yeah, so don’t worry about it. Okay? I can take care of myself.”
“Okay.” I slouched down against his chest, felt his erection behind me.
“Let’s not ruin this beautiful massage, you seem to be enjoying,” Zac said.
I should have been angry about the shirt. I wasn’t. I liked the untamed bad boy side of Zac. I didn’t want sweetness, or promises he had no intention of keeping. As his palms drifted downward, sending tingles along my core, I remembered the ropes he wanted to tie me up in. My breathing quickened.
I wriggled against his length.
“Do that too much and I won’t be able to finish,” he growled.
I laughed and did it again. He slipped both hands, which were huge down the front of my blouse. “Um, they’re stuck.”
I unbuttoned the next button, then the next three.
Still facing forward, I heard the jingling of a belt buckle and a zipper. He wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“Zac?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t need you.”
Soft laughter rumbled on my shoulder. “I know, baby.”
And I didn’t. I was doing perfectly fine on my own. And I would prove it. I didn’t need his money. No one
was paying my bills. Soon I would leave this job, this distraction, enroll in school. Make a life far away from...my past life. “I do want you however,” I clarified.
“I want you too, Charlie. Now show me what you like. I want you to touch yourself . Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I breathed. How I was able to do it I didn’t know. Well, I did but not with an audience ever. I slipped a hand inside my panties, stroked the tender flesh.
“Yeah,” Zac coaxed. “Just like that so I can watch over your shoulder.”
A welcome rise of lust filled my head. I moaned, the steep ascent of orgasm commandeering my brain. Zac cupped my breasts, then tweaked, pulled and pinched both nipples. I hissed through my teeth, the pain pleasure nearly unbearable.
“That’s right, baby. Make yourself come while I watch the whole thing. Touch that tender pussy for me. Touch it, it’s yours. Tell me how it feels. Is it wet? Is it as wet as when I drive my cock inside you? Tell me what it feels like when you come and be loud. I fucking love loud.”
He kissed the tender spot behind my ears, sunk his teeth into my neck. I felt a dampness along the crack of my bare buttocks. The couch rocked as we did the unthinkable. I knew what he was doing behind me, the same thing I was, and it was hot. So fucking hot! I heard grunting and panting. The vibration turned my insides to jelly.
I looked behind me.
He was incredibly aroused now, the orbits of his eyes darkened. Like two cobalt blue stones, they seemed ready to pop right out of his head, their focus riveted between my legs. “I’m right there with you, baby. Ah fuck. Fuuuuuck.”
And there we were, both of us masturbating for each other’s pleasure.. “What are we doing?” I whispered.
“Not this.” He pulled me to my feet. “Turn around, baby. Put your hands on that table over there and lean over it.” With one arm he swept a small vase and salt and pepper holders onto the floor.
I did as the master instructed. Lay my head on my arms as he positioned himself while gripping me firmly by the hips.
I gasped. With one swift movement, I was filled from hilt to tip. He started to move. Not slow. And not easy either. The table shook like an earthquake. Slid over several inches. A chair tipped over and I had to grip the sides of the table to keep from flattening against it.
The Christmas Fix Page 10