by Angela Evans
“Joining me?” she asked.
Damned if he didn’t almost come in his shorts just looking at her. What a sight she made, nearly naked and waiting for him to join her in his bed.
“Give me a second, I want to look at you.” He was rewarded with a blush on her cheeks.
“No more. Come here,” she ordered, reaching for him with a hand and catching his belt so she could tug him down on the bed with her.
A soft canopy surrounded the bed, secured at each of the four corners of the bed, and the candles he’d lit cast the bed in an ethereal glow. Her skin was radiant in the candlelight. Her body called to him and her fingers set little fires everywhere they touched. Her body was the stuff of dreams. Her breasts were full, threatening to spill over the tiny scrap of lace she wore as a bra. Her stomach was flat, and her hips were curvy and luscious. If he looked closely, he could see the faint lines that were a testimony to her two pregnancies.
He wanted to shower her with words to tell her how beautiful she was, but no words would form in his brain. He chose to say nothing for fear of embarrassing himself by babbling incoherently. Instead, he used his mouth to taste and his hands to touch in a way he hoped showed her how she affected him.
He reached behind her and unfastened her bra, looking in her eyes as he pulled the pink lace away to reveal her bare breasts. He had no doubt she was as gone as he was. If he wasn’t about to burst and she wasn’t demanding they move fast, he could easily have spent half the night exploring just her breasts. As it was, he was so damned turned on, he’d be lucky to spend five minutes on them before he got them both completely naked and buried himself inside her body.
He cupped her breasts and lowered his head to taste one. Her nipples were straining for his touch, and she gasped at the feel of his tongue on her sensitive skin. He felt her roll her hips and knew she wanted even more. Kissing his way down her body, across her stomach, and to her hips, he heard her draw in a breath. Glancing up, he saw her watching him through hooded eyes.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, and even he was surprised by how husky his voice sounded.
Instead of answering him, she tugged him back up until he was nose to nose with her again and reached for his belt buckle and unfastened it, then she popped the button hiding behind it before sliding his zipper down over his straining erection. Her slender hands slipped inside his shorts and his boxers and circled his rock-hard dick with both hands. Every promise he’d made about going slow, about taking his time and taking her to the heights of ecstasy, flew out of his mind like a bird on the wind. He leaned his hips forward, pressing himself against her palm, and swore as he fought for control. Her lips against his surprised him, since his eyes were closed.
“Stop trying to be so damned in control. If I’m not, you can’t be either,” she whispered.
Whether it was her plea or the way she stroked him, she got her way. After that, everything was a blur. His shorts were off, her underwear was gone, and he was rolling on a condom in a flash. Her head was on the pillows, hair fanned out all around her, as she reached for him and guided him home. He hesitated, checking to make sure she was ready, and that left her squirming and moaning in his arms.
He braced himself and took in the sight of her, legs splayed, arms gripping the linen comforter, head thrown back on the verge of climax just from waiting for him to enter her. He wanted to commit this image to memory. Carve it in stone so he’d never forget the way she looked or the way he felt. It only lasted a moment though, before his body ordered him to move, to press inside her heat.
He gritted his teeth and clung to the last shreds of his control. Inch by inch, he pressed inside while he watched her adjust. She went from gripping the comforter to clutching his shoulders and trying to pull him closer.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Good god, yes!” she declared with a muffled laugh as she buried her face in his shoulder.
“Come here.” He pulled her closer he began to move, slowly at first then following her lead and increasing the pace until she was meeting him thrust for thrust.
Her fingernails stung his back. Her inner muscles began to spasm, milking him as she reached her climax and pulled him along with her. It was all he could do to keep from collapsing on top of her, crushing her into the mattress. He managed to shift his weight and keep most of his weight off of her, but then he was unable to do more than touch her face and try to remember how to breathe.
* * *
Leslie moved around the bakery enjoying the quiet of being there alone before they opened the doors. She couldn’t shake the smile on her face as she remembered the night, and morning she’d spent with Michael. When he had said his whole team was coming, she’d expected a handful of guys who looked like they could lift a truck without breaking a sweat. But that morning, a team of no less than a dozen guys—some of whom looked like bodybuilders, while others looked as though they might come to fix your computer—had all arrived at the villa.
She’d expected him to rush her home before they showed up, which would have been fine since she had to get the boys up and ready for school anyway. Instead, he had lingered with her through the early morning hours after he woke her up to make love one more time. And then followed her to the shower to have one more one last time together. They’d made breakfast together, which took longer than necessary because they kept getting distracted by kissing and touching. It felt idyllic, almost honeymoon-like. She kept reminding herself that this was still no more than a fling, a night or two together before he went back to his life and she returned to hers.
Eventually they’d gotten dressed, and that was when the knocks at the door started. First came Brett, who was a half a head taller and at least fifty pounds heavier than Michael. Then came Stephen. With soft blue eyes and a quiet voice, he seemed more like a geek than a tough guy. After that, she had trouble keeping track of everyone’s names. Each man called her ma’am and shook her hand politely, not looking at all surprised to find a woman in their boss’s villa.
Doubt crept in. Maybe he was a “girl in every port” type of guy who had a fling with a woman in every town where he had an assignment. Had he made them all feel special? Seduced? Crazy with need?
She pushed those thoughts aside. She couldn’t think about Michael with another woman. She didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want that mental picture clouding her mind. He’d told her he needed to focus on work once his team arrived, and she had no reason not to believe him. He wasn’t Daniel, she reminded herself. When he said he was working, he was actually working, not trying to coax the waitress from the local bar into taking him back to her place.
And even if he was, she had no claim to him. She’d made it clear this was a fling. It was for the here and now while Michael was in Barefoot Bay, but after that, he’d move on to take care of his next client and forget all about her. That was what she’d said she wanted and that was what she would get, but she knew in her heart she would never forget Michael Duncan or their night together. The idea that she would never again feel the way she’d felt lying in Michael’s arms made her feel like she couldn’t take a deep breath.
The phone on the counter at the shop rang, and Leslie ignored it. The shop wasn’t open for another hour and the answering machine would pick it up. She finished airbrushing the last flower for the wedding cake and set it aside to dry. The phone rang again, which was unusual. They didn’t get a lot of telephone calls on a normal day, but two calls before the shop opened was a record. Realizing she hadn’t heard from Amelia yet, she went in search of both her cell phone and the shop phone to see if she’d missed a message.
A text message was waiting for her on the screen of her cell, but it wasn’t from Amelia. It was from Dex.
“At the hospital, baby coming. She said to call you.”
“Oh my gosh!” Leslie gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. Her best friend was becoming a mother today! She was so excited for Amelia and Dex, it took her a moment to realize
that meant she was going to be handling the biggest wedding of the year all by herself. “Oh, my gosh.” She gasped again for an entirely different reason.
She sent Dex back a quick message to let him know she was thinking about them and would be at the hospital as soon as she could, but most importantly, she asked him to keep her updated as much as he could. As much as she wanted to rush straight to the hospital, she had promised her friend she’d make sure the shop ran smoothly and that the wedding cake was delivered without a hitch.
An hour later, she had cleaned up her mess from airbrushing flowers, set up the cases filled with cupcakes, cookies, and other fresh baked treats, and opened the door of the shop. It was far from the first time she had worked there alone—under the previous owner, she had been there by herself most of the time—but for some reason, today she felt on edge. Must be the excitement of knowing the baby was coming. She tried to focus on making a list of everything she needed to pack into the van before she transported the cake to the wedding site tomorrow afternoon. It would be a lot of work to load everything alone and set up the cake by herself. She was sure that everyone at Barefoot Brides had their hands full. She thought about asking her mother for help, but Leslie would need her to stay with the boys since tonight and tomorrow would be long days.
Her cell phone in her hand dinged again, not with a text but a phone call from an unknown number.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hi.” Michael’s voice came through the phone.
“Hi, yourself, what phone number is this?” she asked with a smile. She had his cell phone number, and they’d talked and texted endlessly since his first visit to Mimosa Key.
“This is my work number. I wanted you to have it in case you need to get a hold of me for anything. This one is always on and I always answer. My personal cell tends to get buried on days like these.”
She hadn’t planned to call him since he’d said he would be busy, but it was sweet that he was concerned she would try to reach him and not be able to. The thought made her smile and miss him all at the same time.
“Oh, thank you, that’s very thoughtful.” Her words seemed oddly formal considering they’d spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms.
He hesitated a beat before he said, “Are you at the shop alone?”
Always the protector.
“Yeah, Amelia’s in labor, so I’ll be solo from here on out.” She tried hard not to feel overwhelmed by the idea. “I’m so excited for her and Dex.”
“Will you be okay by yourself? Want me to send a guy over?”
She laughed. “I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m not the celebrity. I’m just the cake baker.”
“You’re more than a cake baker to me, so don’t take any crazy chances. Celebrities bring out the wackos. You never know what someone will get in their head and decide to do.”
He’d explained to her his theory about disturbed fans as a big math problem last night while they lay in bed. In his mind, if you got so famous that everyone knew you, that meant you had more than an average chance of running into a person who was mentally disturbed, and if you were really famous, then the odds got higher that one of those people would act on one of their crazy ideas. It made sense in a way, she supposed. Luckily for her, she was neither famous nor a celebrity. She was just the widow Manning from Mimosa Key.
“I promise I’ll be safe. The police station is just a block up, and someone will be down shortly to pick up their donut order for the day. I’ll make sure and let them know I’m here alone and ask them to keep an eye on things.” She thought it was silly though. No one was going to attack the bakery because they were making a wedding cake for two of the biggest music stars on the planet.
“Okay, do that. Save this number so you can get a hold of me. And write this number down too.” He rattled off another phone number. “That’s my assistant. She should always know how to get a hold of me, and if you’re in trouble, tell her that. If she can’t find me, she’ll send another one of the guys running.”
“Michael, I’m fine. It’s Mimosa Key. The only excitement we get around here is the occasional hurricane.” She chuckled. “But I promise I’ll be careful, and I’ll call if anything weird happens. Just don’t be disappointed when it doesn’t.”
She could hear someone talking to him in the background, and he answered them quickly before coming back to her. “I’ve gotta run.” He hesitated a moment, and it sounded as though he was walking away from whoever was talking to him. In a quieter voice, he said, “I can’t wait to see you again.”
Her heart went from beating fast to racing. “I’d love that.”
“As soon as this wedding is over.” Michael’s promise sent a shiver over her skin. “If I can get a minute I’ll call you later.”
“Yes, please.”
She was smiling too when they disconnected the call. Standing there in the doorway between the kitchen and the front of the shop and grinning like a fool, she couldn’t contain the little dance she did as she went to grab a clean apron.
The door chime dinged, letting her know a customer had entered, so she rushed back to the front to find the police chief and a woman she didn’t recognize. The woman looked out of place. She wasn’t wearing beach clothes, and she didn’t smile or make eye contact with Leslie when she came out of the back. For the moment, Leslie focused on handing off the daily delivery of fresh donuts to the police chief. Just as she promised she would, she let him know that Amelia was in the hospital so she was manning the shop alone. Without hesitation, he offered to have the patrol cars keep an extra eye on the shop just in case. He was a sweet man Leslie had known for years. He’d been one of the officers who had notified her about Daniel’s death, and she thought that was partly why he’d always had a soft spot for her.
After the police chief left, she turned to wait on the unusual woman. Leslie couldn’t quite put her finger on what was odd about her, but there was definitely something off. She wore a light jacket, which was strange in and of itself since it was warm outside. She didn’t wear brightly colored clothes as most of the tourists tended to do; she wore soft, muted colors and her hair looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in quite a while. Still, Leslie smiled brightly and asked what she could help her with. The woman ordered a couple of cupcakes and a single cookie and left without making small talk.
Leslie hurried back to her to-do list and didn’t give the stranger a second thought throughout the rest of the day.
* * *
Michael caught his second-in-command, Brett Williams, staring at him, and not for the first time that day. “What?”
“Nothing,” Brett said with a chuckle that clearly said there was something.
“Out with it.” Michael set aside the schematics of the hotel, where he’d noted every potential exit and entrance route as well as all their potential vulnerable points.
“What?” Brett asked with feigned innocence. “It’s just… I’ve known you a while now, boss, and I’ve never known you to start a meeting with a girl in your hotel room. In fact, I’ve never known you to have a girl in your hotel room, period. Although logic would seem to demand that it has happened.” He glanced at Michael for confirmation and received nothing. “But still, none of us guys have ever heard you mention a woman, let alone bring one around.”
“And…?” He’d expected to catch some ribbing from his team. They worked together closely and regarded one another as brothers, which meant that giving each other a hard time was all part of the package.
“And…? Really? You’ve got nothing to say? Well, okay then, I got some questions.” Brett pulled up a chair, spun it around backward, and straddled it in one easy movement. A former Army Ranger, Brett was invaluable to his team, but more importantly, Michael regarded him as a friend, one of the few people in the world he trusted without question. Brett pinned him with a look that seemed to question if Michael was feeling all right. “Who is she? Why are you messing around with a woman when you need to have that l
egendary focus of yours in place and not get distracted by some hottie in a short skirt?”
With a sigh, Michael tipped his chair back and ran a hand over his face. He was more than tired, he was exhausted to his center, but the night had been more than worth it. In fact, he was hoping for a repeat performance tonight. But Brett was right. This was so far out of character for him, even he wasn’t sure what he was thinking.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t planned; it just happened. I couldn’t get her out of my head, so I figured, maybe scratch the itch and see if it went away.” That was as close as he was going to get to an explanation for anyone, and if he owed that explanation to anyone, it was Brett. As a company and as a team, they had a lot riding on this job. Now was not the time to blow it for any reason.
“And how did that work out?” Brett’s question implied he already knew the answer.
“Let’s get back to work.” Michael dismissed the conversation. His sex life was nobody’s business but his own, and as long as he kept his eye on the target, they’d be fine. He could multitask.
If he had to.
The two of them spent the next several hours reviewing their plan from beginning to end. The only variable to the whole equation was if the happy couple went off script, and judging by how things had gone so far, that was not only possible but likely.
“So the bride will be in this bungalow on the night before the wedding.” Brett indicated a spot on the map of the resort. “They’re doing the whole ‘can’t see the bride before the wedding’ thing.” He rolled his eyes as he said it.
The whole team thought it was ridiculous. After all, the entire country—the world even—had watched them flirt and kiss on television, and that was before the “accidentally” leaked sex tape. But Brett knew as well as Michael that they weren’t getting paid to have opinions.
“The groom will stay here.” Brett indicated a neighboring villa on the map.
“We need to confirm where the boy is staying,” Michael reminded him. “Barefoot Bay’s security chief will already have checked out all the guests, but run our own checks as well, just like always.” He’d met with Luke McBain, Barefoot Bay’s security chief, on his first visit here and spoken to him by phone numerous times. He had no doubts McBain ran a tight ship, but he never left anything to chance.