Fool for Love

by Mel Curtis

  His chest felt like Ulani had body-slammed him. His pride was injured. Wounded pride and waiting sent a man’s mind into overdrive. Thinking about his empty bed. Thinking about how pathetic he was. Thinking about what he’d say to her in the morning when they started filming. Would he play it like it was no big deal? Kiss an apology out of her? Or dump her?

  He so did not want to dump her.

  Footsteps sounded behind him.

  She’d come.

  Blue’s heart pounded. His erection was instantaneous. “I wasn’t going to wait much longer.”

  “Liar. That’s your pride talking.” She dropped her purse on the tile, hitched up her skirt and straddled him on his lounge chair. Her hips fit over his perfectly.

  “If you hadn’t shown up in ten more minutes I was going to drive by your apartment and throw pebbles at your window.” He didn’t even know where she lived.

  She ran her fingers through his hair, brushed her thumbs over his forehead, soothing him with her touch. “How would you have found my window?”

  “I might have had to throw a lot of pebbles. But someone would have given you up.”

  “More likely they’d give you up to the cops.” Maddy leaned in and nibbled on his ear. “There was an accident on the highway. It was backed up for miles.” Her hair brushed his face, bringing with it the familiar smell of flowers. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s me.”

  Her admission effectively silenced him. He didn’t do pillow-talk discussions.

  But she didn’t seem to expect him to engage. “I pawned my grandfather’s photo albums. He was an Army photographer in World War II. And when I was a kid, he was my rock.”

  She’d gambled a treasure on him. Blue was humbled. He kissed her tenderly. “I hope I’m worth the risk.”

  “Me, too.”

  She was his kind of hot, but he wasn’t interested in letting her take the lead. He planted a hand on her butt and squeezed. “I suppose you want something along the lines of the missionary position? Something Senge would label repressed?”

  “And I suppose you have something more creative in mind?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

  If she’d noticed he’d unbuttoned her blouse, she kept quiet. He spread the sides apart, exposing her to the air, to him. “When it comes to you, Maddy, I’m at my most creative.”

  She sighed as his hands cupped her breasts. Sighed again as his hands slid behind her to unhook her white bra. “I don’t suppose you have any champagne left.”

  “No tequila either.” He didn’t want her to blame this on alcohol.

  He freed her breasts by lifting her bra over her head until it was banded behind her neck. She was a tangle of clothing – bra straps and shirt sleeves circling her arms, skirt hitched high on her legs. But her breasts were free and demanded his attention.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He suckled her pink nipple.

  Maddy speared her fingers through his hair and hung on. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Don’t. Baby, don’t joke.” He cupped her chin. “I mean it. You’re beautiful.”

  She had the most wondrous look on her face, as if she couldn’t decide if she was going to laugh or cry. She did neither. She kissed him deeply, an urgent rhythm that simulated his thrusts when he was inside her. And then she moaned.

  He wanted her to moan louder, to shout out her pleasure. He wanted to sheath himself in her heat and make some noise himself.

  His hand dropped to her bare thigh, following the curve upward to… “You’re going commando?” Nice girl-next-door, Maddy?

  He almost came in his pants.

  She framed his face with her hands. “I took my panties off when I was stuck in traffic. Just the thought of you waiting…” Her voice trailed off when he slid his fingers inside her. She clenched, cried out, clenched again, and drenched him in her juices. She was still cradling his face, staring into his eyes in wonder.

  He imagined he stared at her in the same way. “God, Maddy. I wish I had handcuffs to chain you to my bed.”

  She laughed as she unzipped his pants, and frantically helped him with one of the condoms he’d put on the table. With one thrust, he was inside, reveling in her most intimate embrace. He reached for her breasts again, but she grabbed his hands and propelled them over his head, as if he was the one being handcuffed. Again, Blue almost exploded.

  “You promised me a Freedom Transformation.” Her voice was husky, wanton.

  She held his wrists in place with one hand, riding him leisurely. With her other hand, she encircled the base of his penis with her thumb and forefinger. With each downward stroke, the pressure on the base of his penis was magnified. With each upward stroke, Maddy arched and slid her clit against her hand and wrist.

  Eyes half closed, hair in disarray, breasts full and free. She was magnificent.

  Her leisurely pace didn’t last long. They were both craving urgency. Her hold on his wrists loosened. He reached around and grabbed the straps of her bra at her back, supporting her in a deeper arch as he thrust harder and deeper and he entered a zone where one touch, one word from Maddy would make him shatter.

  Maddy bucked. He jerked. Their voices blended into a crescending aria as they came together.

  He couldn’t move. Couldn’t let Maddy go.

  Deep inside of her, Blue pulsed and twitched, hungry for more.

  Fuck being fuck-buddies. He was going to have to date her. He wasn’t sure what that meant for a man like him, but he wanted to find out. “You drive me nuts, Maddy.”

  She rolled her hips forward, convulsing around him once more. “If this is how you perform on shitty days, I want you to call me when you have a stellar one.”

  “That’s a promise.”

  Sex with Blue was everything his exes had promised.

  In his arms, Maddy felt as if she could conquer the world. She felt precious and loved and cherished. She never wanted to leave. Love, budding and fragile, was singing ballads in her heart.

  This was bad. Very, very bad. Avenger prediction-type bad.

  She couldn’t tell him how she felt. He’d run quicker than Usain Bolt for the nearest exit. He was Blue Rule. Leaving women was what he did best.

  They’d made love twice since she’d driven his car here. It was time to redirect and establish space, before she blurted some hint of her feelings and ruined everything.

  Maddy turned in Blue’s arms. His face was illuminated by moonlight streaming through his bedroom window, handsome even in shadow. “Which Dooley Foundation platform will you use for Jenny?” They were scheduled to film Blue coaching her later that morning.

  His arms tensed almost imperceptibly. “You’re familiar with all my father’s life-changing themes. What do you think she needs?”

  “As the show’s producer, I can’t say.” She started to draw back, but he tugged her closer.

  “Is this a test?”

  “No.” Yes. He hadn’t used the Rules at the Freedom Transformation until she’d started him out. She knew he’d been winging it the entire time. She couldn’t help him a second time.

  “I’m asking your opinion.” His voice was as smooth and compelling as his touch on her thigh.

  She had to hold onto her dreams. Sleeping with him, loving him, those were compromises. But the compromises ended when it came to production. She couldn’t interfere or set-up what she filmed. Vera was right. For a woman who didn’t gamble, she’d let the stakes get too high.

  She chose her words carefully. “Do you think that when a man goes overboard on Deadliest Catch a cameraman throws out a life preserver? Do you think that when one of those Real Housewives starts a catfight the producer steps in to break things up? I can’t tell you what I think.”

  His hand stilled. “You mean you won’t.”

  She was in his embrace, but they felt like mannequins left in an intimate pose. Threatened, love barricaded itself deep in her chest.

  “I owe you a confession about my biggest fear.” Blue traced
circles on her arm. “My father had a huge Elvis complex. He loved women. But as soon as they got pregnant he lost interest, just like Elvis did with Priscilla. Did you know that Amber, Cora and I are almost exactly a year apart in age?”

  She longed for a camera to record every word, even as she reveled in being his confidante. “That’s a little disturbing.” Especially when she worshipped Dooley’s philosophies.

  “Dad was married three times in just under four years.” He spoke slowly, hurt dragging his words. “Couldn’t manage that today, even with a pre-nup.”

  “Did he ever get married again?”

  “No.”

  “More kids?”

  In his crate in the corner, Mr. Jiggles yawned.

  Blue kissed her beneath her chin. “He had a string of lovers. And when I say a string, it was a very long string. We were never told about any other kids. But sometimes I wonder. We saw him maybe three or four days a month and not always on weekends.”

  Blue was a man with a veneer of confidence, but beneath he was vulnerable – about the Rules, about his image, about his father. Suddenly, it all made sense.

  Gently, she pushed him back, and lay on top of him. “You think you’re like him.” And he didn’t like it.

  He hooked her hair behind her ears, not meeting her gaze. “My track record with women is listed in Wikkipedia under short-term relationships. I have to ask myself if it’s because of some hereditary gene or because my father raised me to treat women the same way he did.”

  “Blue – ”

  “There’s more.” He swallowed. “Dad had a way of disciplining us that was unorthodox. By today’s standards, it might have even been classified as…abusive.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m sure he didn’t – ”

  “He did. Maddy, he locked me in a casket! He chained me to a dog house!” His sharp voice elicited a growl from Mr. Jiggles. “When I turned eighteen, I stopped talking to him. I swore I’d never be like him. I swore I’d never work at the Dooley Foundation. I swore I’d never live by his Rules!”

  Her stomach bunched and twisted over the agony Blue had been put through. Fathers were supposed to love their kids unconditionally. “And yet…”

  “I’ve sold out.” His words were uneven, potholed with pain. “I’ve run through my share of women. And now I’m working at the Foundation.”

  “You don’t know the Rules.” And she couldn’t tell him what little she knew. Not only did it compromise her as the show’s producer, but she didn’t know everything.

  Her heart cracked. She felt the fissure like a knife in her chest. Pain drove her out of bed. “I have to go.” She snatched her clothes, yanking them on. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.

  “Wait.” He came to her, so comfortable and beautiful in his nakedness she wanted to cry. “We can work this out. You helped me at Winnie’s.”

  “I can’t. As a producer, I can’t.” She held back a sob, struggling with the hooks of her bra. “I put my faith in you. I wagered Poppa Bert’s albums.”

  “I know.” With gentle fingers, he straightened her bra. Tenderly, he dressed her.

  She was too numb to protest. She was too lost in grief, staring at their bare feet, lover’s distance apart on the carpet while he zipped her skirt. She shook her head, which seemed to jog her brain back into function-mode. “Since Dooley died, everything about the Dooley Foundation is a lie. You’re misrepresenting yourselves.”

  “Amber knows all Dad’s secrets.”

  Amber, not Blue. And certainly not Cora.

  “How could you possibly hope to help these women?”

  “Divine intervention?” His smile attempted to charm.

  Maddy’s numbness gave way to pain again, the stabbing, double-over and die pain of heartbreak. Somehow she managed to remain standing. “Did you sleep with me thinking you could seduce me into helping you with the Rules?”

  “No.” He raised her chin so she was forced to look at him. “I have many sins, but that’s not one of them. Christ, Maddy. An hour ago, I decided to date you.”

  “Date me?” She choked out a laugh, the sound of which must have finally worn down his patience.

  “You’re going to date me, Maddy.” There was an odd quality to his voice, a low growling blend of anger, hurt, and doubt, as if he felt the world was against him. As if he felt she was against him for no good reason. “I didn’t ask to be put in this situation. You came to us, remember? I’m going to get through this hell and then we’re going to date like a normal couple.”

  It was official. Blue had gone off the deep end. “What does that mean? Date? You’ve dated other people.”

  “It was more like hanging out. I’ve never asked a woman to be my girlfriend.”

  “You…I don’t even know how to respond to that. I should have listened to logic last night.” Not tequila. “I don’t trust you. Not with my career. And certainly not with…on a personal level.” She looked around for her shoes, already slipping into producer disaster mode. “If Amber knows what to do, call her. When you show up today – and you will show up today to coach Jenny – I’m going to film every minute, regardless of what you think it does to your reputation, your family’s reputation, or your sensitive ego.”

  “Don’t do this, Maddy. Please. Don’t shut me out.” He reached for her, but she swatted his hands away.

  “Your lies could destroy my chance at my dreams.” Maddy knew she couldn’t turn off her feelings for him with a flip of a switch. But she could hide behind Auntie Maddy. “I’m your producer. I’m not going to shut you out at work. But this…” She gestured to the bed. “This is over. Call me a cab.”

  Chapter 26

  L.A. Happenings by Lyle Lincoln

  …Will Vivian Gordon be the next woman to join the Playboy Avengers? She was seen with heartbreaker, Blue Rule, having a cozy dinner last night.

  …I must say that the firing of the Flash’s coach was a surprise, especially after he guided the NBA team to the playoffs two years in a row. What is Jack Gordon thinking? Is this an indication that the team can’t survive? Many cities dream of a NBA team and L.A. seems to have one team too many.

  The morning of filming pre-matchmaking counseling had dawned.

  Things were about to go from shitty to shittier.

  Blue had no idea what to do with Jenny today. He’d hoped that Maddy would give him a hint, a jump-start, like she’d done at Winnie’s. That backfired. He’d hurt her by trying to short-cut the process. He’d thought she’d understand when he told her about his father that he needed her help. Whatever help she could give. Turned out she wouldn’t give him anything.

  He had a shell of a plan: sit Jenny down and ask her why she couldn’t grow up, why she tied her self-worth to sex. But nothing had come to him about how to improve her dating life.

  Maddy was going to film him falling flat on his face. He had no chance to prove himself, because Amber was trying to honor Evan’s wishes to keep their honeymoon Rule-free.

  He dressed carefully, as if for his own funeral.

  The last thing he did before he left the rental house was to check the messages on his cell. He had one voicemail message. With his luck, it’d be from one of the Avengers.

  “Blue?” The static behind Amber’s voice crackled louder than popping popcorn. “We’re in St. Maarten. I only have a few minutes before Evan makes me hang up or we’ll miss the last boat back to the ship.”

  Static cut in again.

  “ – are you doing? Have you learned the Rules you need from Dad’s picture? I’m not supposed to say anything, but I have a feeling that you need to know. It’s about his code – ” Staticky-static. “ – are in the picture. Don’t show anyone else. Not Cora or Gemma.” There was a pause. “Damn, I’ve got to go. I’ll try and call you from the next port, but don’t forget what I told you about the picture, okay? Love you.”

  Since when did his sister say she loved him? Must be that honeymoon elixir
. Blue felt oddly touched.

  He erased Amber’s message and drove in to work early, wondering about his dad’s doodles. What could possibly help him in a garden picture his father had drawn? All anyone saw was a naked woman. Blue saw only flowers. He’d never been good with Where’s Waldo either.

  After their dad died, he and Amber had spent an afternoon going through Dooley’s files trying to figure out what the scribbled artwork in the files meant. Blue believed his father had been bored. Except…there were a lot of dog doodles in his folders. And there was the dog rescue on retainer. And hadn’t Cora said something about dogs in the picture in his office?

  Blue arrived at the Dooley Foundation before seven, long before anyone else. He turned on the lights and made a pot of coffee. Mr. Jiggles pranced around his feet, carrying his ball. Maddy and her film crew would arrive sometime in the next hour or so. Jenny was due closer to ten. When they returned to his office, Mr. Jiggles rolled on the floor, twisting until the pom on his top knot looked like a pink and gray beret.

  “I wish you could be the comic relief today and not me.” He couldn’t put it off any longer. With a sigh, Blue picked up the picture Cora and Maddy seemed to think depicted naked women. Amber claimed his father’s secret code was in it. Blue still didn’t see anything but flowers. And since his dad had drawn this, he had no real interest in spending the time to study it.

  Mr. Jiggles kicked his legs into the air and growled, as if to say try harder.

  Blue shook his head, staring at the picture until his vision blurred. The stalks had full leaves supporting a single flower. A cutaway at the bottom showed a shallow, twisted root running lengthwise beneath the ground. He traced the root with his finger.

  And then he saw her – the naked woman. She was the root, half reclining, looking over her shoulder at him. Her hair twined up into one stalk that burst through the ground, her arm became another.

  Blue peered closer. There was a word on her back, a word made with the bend and flow of the lines of her shoulders, the bend in her waist, the line of her buttocks: Love.