by Liz Talley
“Three times.”
“I love a multiorgasmic woman. It’s so hot,” he said, dropping a kiss on her lips.
“I never knew I was,” Eden said, kissing him back.
He crooked a brow. “Seriously? Or are you stoking my ego?”
“I don’t see how I could do that. That was my first time.” As those words escaped and Nick grew deathly still, she wondered if perhaps admitting she’d been a virgin had been a good idea. Probably not. So why had she done it?
“Wait, what?” Nick asked, his brow lowering and his gaze growing serious in the flickering light. “What do you mean? Like an orgasm?”
“Um, no. Actual sex. That was my first time. Well, technically my first time. With, uh, actual penetration and all. Oh, and having a guy go down on me.” She tried to play it cool. Be like Jess. It’s all natural. No big deal here.
Nick pushed off, his eyes going wide. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking, Eden.”
Eden struggled to raise herself up on her elbows, effectively disengaging Nick from her body. “What? It’s not that—”
“You were a virgin?” he interrupted, his voice going up an octave.
“You say virgin like I had a disease,” she said, the hazy, romantic afterglow dissolving. “I mean, it’s not that big of deal.”
He made a face. “It’s absolutely a big deal. Eden . . .” Nick looked stunned and something else she couldn’t decipher. She thought it might be regret, and there was nothing worse than a man regretting he’d slept with a woman.
“It’s not. Really. I’m not a freak or anything,” she said, averting her gaze to just beyond his shoulder. She glued her thighs together and covered her breasts with her palms.
“Give me a sec, okay?” Nick slid off the bed and walked to the bathroom.
Eden sat there feeling embarrassed and angry she felt that way after her first very amazing experience. A few seconds later and Nick padded back into the bedroom, but she didn’t rip her gaze from the leaping flames in the fireplace. Nick set a hand towel she’d folded last week on her knee. “Here.”
She looked at it and then up at him. “What?”
“In case you need it,” he said.
“Oh,” Eden said, looking at the towel.
Nick sat on the bed. Eden didn’t move. He took the towel and set it on the bedside table before pulling her into his lap. His arms comforted her, and she relaxed against him as he said, “Eden, I wasn’t trying to make you feel embarrassed. It merely caught me off guard. Your virginity, well, it’s sort of precious.”
“Why? We’re not living in the middle ages. If the opportunity had presented itself before now, I would have done it. I worked a lot and then took care of my mother. I didn’t have much time for socialization. Years passed me by, and . . . well, I never actually punched my V card.”
“V card?” he asked, his breath feathering her cheek.
“That’s what my friend Lacy called it. She watched a lot of reality television. I think she got the term there.”
After a few minutes of stroking her back, Nick said. “So tell me about this friend.”
So she told him about Lacy. Right there, naked in his arms after having multiple orgasms, she told him how Lacy loved horses and her old orange truck. How she and her friends met every week for coffee at the Lazy Frog. About Lacy getting sick, the 5K event they helped organize, the crazy blue wig Lacy liked to wear to irk her mama. And the last few days where she, Rosemary, and Jess cried too many tears and clung to each other as they watched their friend slip away. Eden cried a little bit but then smiled when she told him about the charm bracelet and the money her friend left her.
“So Lacy brought you to me?”
Eden looked up. His words were possessive and hinted at something unexpected. “I guess. I had always planned to go to college, major in theatre, and work my way into a future that included performing on the stage. That was my dream, and Lacy wanted me to have it. She was the most selfless of friends even if other people thought she was a bit too pushy. And too much of a dreamer.”
“She sounds like an amazing friend. I think you were lucky to have her.”
“But not lucky enough to keep her,” Eden said, trying to chase away the sadness that shadowed her when she talked about her friend. Would the hurt ever abate? Would she ever feel more happy than sad when she thought about Lacy? She hoped one day she would.
Nick caught her yawn with a kiss. “I know this sounds silly, but thank you for trusting me with—”
“Don’t say the gift of my virginity.” Eden groaned.
“I won’t, but still, you chose me.” And with those words he moved her so he could pull back the soft sheets. Eden had never washed his sheets—he had a housekeeper who came once a week—but she’d imagined what it would feel like to be cradled in Nick’s arms.
And her daydream didn’t come close to how amazing it was curled against him, watching the dancing flames, feeling his heartbeat beneath her cheek.
She could have never planned a better date, a better night, a better first lover.
Her last thought before she drifted off into the soundest slumber she’d had since moving to New Orleans was how much Lacy would have approved.
Nick woke with a start, blinking against the bright morning light streaming through the plantation shutters and realizing someone was in bed with him.
But then everything came roaring back to him—Commander’s Palace, champagne, and making love to Eden.
He shifted, but she didn’t move a muscle. The quiet rise and fall of her deep slumber reminded him it was Sunday morning, his sister was on restaurant call, and he had the recipe for his grandmere’s famous waffles waiting beneath the magnet on his fridge.
Part of him wanted to wake Eden and introduce her to sleepy morning sex, but the other part of him recognized she was tired out. Taking care of a disabled seven-year-old, performing nearly every night at Gatsby’s, and staying out late and making love until the wee hours had to have taken its toll on her.
Carefully he eased out of bed, pausing only when she rolled over and issued a deep sigh, snuggling into his feather pillows. Slipping into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a pair of worn sheepskin moccasins, he made his way into the kitchen and the blessedness of the coffeepot. He pulled out his favorite chicory blend, eschewing the fancy roasts people liked to gift him. Less than five minutes later, he had a fragrant cup in hand. Then he started on making breakfast for Eden.
His concentration on measuring the flour and the baking powder was broken every time he thought about the sweet moment he’d shared with Eden after the very rewarding, very satisfying sex. He’d had no clue she’d been a virgin. Sure, when he thought back to when they’d first entered the bedroom, there was some awkwardness, but that wasn’t necessarily atypical. Getting naked with someone for the first time took a measure of trust, and sometimes the intimacy felt too much. He’d sensed that, gone slow, and let her determine the pace. What followed had been good. Really good.
Still, had he known she was a virgin, he would have taken more time, made sure to be extra gentle.
“Morning,” Eden croaked from the doorway.
He looked up from whisking the eggs into the batter to find her wearing his button-down shirt. The look was always good on a woman, but on Eden it was both sexy and endearing. The bare feet with bright blue toenails sealed the deal on her being the absolute cutest woman he’d ever seen.
“Hey,” he said waving her into the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“No thanks.”
“I’m making waffles. My grandmere’s infamous bananas Foster waffles. Oh, and bacon.” He turned to the fridge and pulled out the rasher of bacon he’d bought at the meat market a few days ago.
Eden padded toward him. “You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble. I have to leave soon. Rehearsals are at eleven.”
Disappointment sank inside him. “Do you have to go?”
She glanced up at the kitchen clock. “I have abo
ut forty-five minutes. That will have to be enough.”
“Okay then,” he said, speeding up the process by dumping the flour in and not sifting. His grandmere likely groaned and rolled over in her grave at the offense. “I’ll make it happen.”
She slid onto a stool and hooked her feet on the rungs. “So how’s this going to work? We can’t undo things now.”
“What do you mean?”
“We slept together and I’m your employee. I don’t know what to expect. As you learned last night, this is something I’ve never had to handle before. Trust me, I wasn’t even close to sleeping with Gary the Creep.” Her eyes looked somehow bigger this morning, clouded a bit by uncertainty.
“Gary the Creep?”
“My last boss.” She sighed. “It’s just that things have been good. I don’t want them to change because we”—she waved a hand—“did this.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
Nick laughed. “Honest answer. So how about we don’t overthink things. You stay on as Sophie’s nanny for as long as you can . . . or as long as this works. She loves you, and I need you. You’re good at taking care of her and making her feel important, cared for, and safe. As for me and you, we enjoy the minutes we have together. There might not be as many as we’d like, but every moment you can spare, I want you with me.”
“I want that too.” Her gaze was direct. “So we’ll be flexible. Day to day, week to week. But what will we tell Sophie?”
“Nothing. We don’t have to declare anything. She’s a smart cookie and she’ll figure it out.”
“But if I stay over . . .”
“Not if, when.” He poured the batter in to the ancient waffle iron he’d bought at a restaurant supply store when he was in college, then walked around the island to Eden. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her. Hard. “I’m not giving up you in my bed, sweetheart. You have to make up for lost time, and I’m just the man to pick up that challenge.”
Eden kissed his chin. “Oh, you are, are you?”
He slid his hands under the shirt to find her naked beneath. He hadn’t imagined how soft her skin was last night or how terrific she felt in his arms. “Mm-hmm.”
Her breath caught as he captured her breast and thumbed the hardening nipple. “A confident man who can walk the walk, huh?” she asked, moving her leg so he stood between her thighs. She hooked her heels onto his calves and moved closer.
“I’m going to burn the waffles,” he said, dropping his head to nuzzle her neck and draw in the sweet scent that was Eden’s alone.
Her hand caught his rising erection. “Do you care?”
Nick unplugged the waffle iron and lifted Eden off the stool. She laughed, wrapping her legs around him again. He, in return, grasped the bare lobes of her ass. “Not one lick.”
She kissed him once, twice, three times before they reached his tousled bed, and any thoughts of Grandmere Charlene’s waffles flew away. There was Eden, a soft bed, and forty-five minutes to introduce her to slow, sleepy morning sex.
And as she drew him down onto the bed with her, he scrapped the “slow, sleepy” part. He burned for her, and if he didn’t get inside her soon . . .
“This is better than waffles.” Eden wrenched his shirt over her head.
“Damn straight,” he said, putting the world on hold because loving Eden was a habit he could get used to.
Eden wiped the sweat from her brow and stifled a sneeze. The chicken-feathered fans were killing her. Her eyes were red and itchy in spite of nearly OD’ing on Benadryl that morning.
“Again from the top,” Frenchie commanded, snapping her fingers at Fatso who looked to be checking his phone. They’d been working on the same number for the past hour, and still it wasn’t ready for debut.
“Can I have a break?” Eden asked, unable to stop the huge sneeze that snuck up on her.
“You’re going to get nastiness on the feathers,” Frenchie said, eyeing the white feathered fans critically before sighing. “Okay, okay, I’ll get you the ostrich ones. You allergic to ostriches?”
Eden shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Frenchie stalked off, presumably to raid the wardrobe she kept in her private office. The cheap plumed fans Eden had been using were a combination of turkey feathers and synthetic material. While Frenchie procured the longer, more legitimate version, Eden took a moment to check her own phone, smiling at the text from Nick.
It had been a month since their first real date, and Eden had been happier than she’d ever been in her life. Exhausted, but happy. She and Nick had established a sometimes complicated but satisfying schedule that allowed them to spend time together but still manage to get successfully through their many obligations. Being with Nick was like having Christmas morning every day. Of course, some of her Christmas mornings as a child were entirely forgettable, so that wasn’t a great comparison, but it was the best she had. He made her laugh, made her sigh, and made her feel like she was worthy of every drop of affection he lavished on her.
Sophie hadn’t asked specifically if Eden and her father were together, but she’d gleaned enough to plan their trip to Walt Disney World that summer. She’d also started doing things like asking both Eden and Nick to tuck her in at night, sharing the reading of the stories, giggling with glee when they did the character’s voices. The child’s eyes gleamed with happiness, and her performance in school had strengthened. Her teacher had even sent home a lovely note complimenting Sophie on being a good friend and learning skills faster than she’d ever learned them before.
Everything was perfect.
Eden scanned her other messages. Rosemary wanted her to call her back when she could, Fredric was requesting a meeting, and her sister had a lead on a potential buyer for their house in Morning Glory. While Eden existed in her own fairy tale, the real world still turned.
Eden pressed the Home button on her phone and tucked it back into the pocket of her tight studio pants, refusing to deal with the minutia of her life. Yeah, she’d encapsulated herself into a bubble, refusing to think about what-ifs in favor of savoring the sweet nights after performances when she took a cab to Nick’s and he met her with a glass of white zinfandel and a kiss. She preferred to think about bubble baths, pizza-roll snacks and story time with Sophie. And then the quick, fulfilling lovemaking with Nick before she had to leave for Gatsby’s.
As far as Eden was concerned, real life could wait.
Frenchie came back with the huge fans she kept squirreled away for her own burlesque performances and shoved them at Eden. “Here. No more sneezing.”
“Thank you,” Eden said, handing the inferior fans off to Lisa.
“By the way, your boyfriend called me. Wants a weekend with you. Surprise and all that. I don’t want you to take it.”
Eden’s heart leaped and she tried not to look annoyed by the fact Frenchie didn’t care enough to keep a surprise a surprise. “Nick called you?”
“That’s his name?” Frenchie arched a brow. Eden knew Frenchie dang well knew Nick’s name, but that was one of the many head games she liked to play. “Yeah, yeah. Nick. He wants you to miss work.”
“Well, it’s not been as busy during Lent.”
“Yeah, all the good Catholics stay home.” Sarcasm was a given with Frenchie. “But, fine. Whatever. I’ll call Sadie. Your big sister wants to come back.”
“Big sister? You mean Lola?”
Frenchie snapped her fingers. “Smart cookie.”
A trickle of fear wriggled inside Eden. If Sadie was back from California, would that mean they’d share the spotlight? Eden wasn’t greedy, and having Sadie split some time with her would free her up for more time with Nick and Sophie, but she liked sharing top billing with only Sista Shayla. “I’m the smart cookie who stepped in when you needed her most. Don’t forget that, French.”
“Huh.” Frenchie sniffed, gesturing to everyone. “Back to work. Back to work. We’re on the clock, peoples.”
Fatso rolle
d his eyes.
Eden shook out the new fans, praying the ostrich feathers wouldn’t cause her to chain sneeze and rub at her watery eyes. As she took her place, she wondered what Nick had up his sleeve. Calling Frenchie Pi meant he was determined to surprise her . . . and get her some time off. The man was persuasive, something she knew firsthand. He’d talked her into things she’d never thought she’d do both in the bedroom and out. Eden wasn’t sure if she’d ever told the man no when he applied his charming smile and whispered sweet words. Even the stalwart Frenchie would be putty in that man’s hands.
After rehearsals, with far less sneezing and watery eyes, praise Jesus, Eden picked up Sophie, who wore her lunch on her new romper and a grin big as the Crescent City Connection bridge. “I have a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend?” Eden repeated, strapping the child into the van and tossing Sister Regina Marie a wave. “What the heck?”
“You have one. My daddy.”
“But I’m not seven. You can’t have a boyfriend at seven. It’s against the law.” Eden grinned, shutting the door and jogging around to the driver’s side, flashing a smile at the person next in the carpool line. Everyone was patient at All Souls. No honking horns or exasperated, dirty looks. Parents and caregivers for the children at the special school were used to everything taking longer than normal.
“No, it’s not. I’m almost eight.” Sophie giggled as they pulled through the horseshoe drive and turned out onto the busy uptown street. “Don’t tell Daddy. His name is Charlie. He’s nine.”
“An older man? This will not go over well.”
Sophie sobered. “Daddy’ll be mad? He’s mad at mommy.”
Eden glanced at the child in the rearview mirror. She hadn’t stayed over the night before since the rehearsal was earlier than normal and she’d wanted to sleep in. “Your daddy was mad?”
“Yeah. My mama’s not coming to my party.” Sophie pressed her lips together and jerked her head to look out the window at the passing oaks.
“Did your father tell you that?”
“I heard. He called her a bad name. She’s a bad mommy.” Sophie’s face was still turned toward the window. Something in the child’s demeanor broke Eden’s heart.