Gina effortlessly tells Naomi that she loves her before hanging up. I feel a pinch of envy, and I’m shocked because I didn’t expect it. But why am I envious? Is it because I want Gina to effortlessly say that she loves me? Maybe I want to say it to her! But am I ready for real love?
Gina snaps her fingers. “Randy.”
I blink. “What is it?”
“Where did you just go?”
She grimaces as if she’s concerned. But certainly, I’m not going to tell her any of the shit that was going through my mind.
“Nowhere. So what are you supposed to text me?”
Gina’s lips are pressed flat. She does that when she doesn’t get what she wants. Her phone buzzes.
“Nom just sent me the account information. We’re supposed to meet her and Steve at the café at three. We should wire the money before then.”
She barely looked me in the eyes while talking, and I wonder if it’s because she’s guilty about slipping out while she thought I was sleeping.
“Okay,” I say.
Finally, her glassy eyes meet mine. My heart warms. Damn, she’s a natural beauty. Not only that, but her skin is so damn soft.
“I’m going to need your phone number,” she says.
“You don’t have my number?”
“You never gave it to us.”
I could’ve sworn I gave my phone number to Gina. I have her number in my phone and have often thought about calling her on nights when I just didn’t want to be alone. When I was in New York filming the show, I wanted to call her at least a dozen times. I like Gina, but damn, she makes it hard to admit. Like the way she’s looking at me now—if her eyes could cast an evil spell, she would turn me into a donkey so she could ride me until my back broke, or she’d turn me into a fucking mouse so she could step on me.
I clear my throat. “It’s 952-555-0134.”
Gina taps on the screen of her cell phone. “There. I sent it.”
“Thanks,” I say.
We look at each other. I want to ask if she wants to come in for one last round of sex before we officially become partners, but I also have to get on the phone and round up that forty grand before it’s too late.
“You’re welcome,” she finally says. She hasn’t budged. I think she’s expecting me to ask her inside.
“So I’ll see you at three?”
She nods. “See you at three.”
After a few seconds, she turns her back to me and quickly walks off. I want to walk back into the house, but I can’t take my eyes off her. There’s something different about Gina. I wish I could identify it. Maybe one day soon I’ll be able to. As soon as she’s in the car and driving down the street, I go back inside. I have to call Jeremy. He’s got the money I need collecting dust in his bank, and if he loans me the cash, he knows I’m good for it—unlike Steve.
Six hours later, Steve asks me, “What are you doing here?”
My uncle is standing outside the front door of the Calypso Café, inhaling a cigarette. He doesn’t look good at all. He’s unshaven and looks as though he hasn’t had a shower or gotten a lick of sleep in days.
“Have you been sleeping in a fucking dumpster?” I ask.
He scratches the scruff on his jaw. “No, and you still haven’t answered my question.”
I’d rather he explain why he looks like a tweaker. The family knows his gambling was starting to get out of control, but no one really knew it was this bad—other than that he owed Jeremy a lot of money, but that’s been going on for a while. “I’m going in with Gina.”
He cocks his head suspiciously. “Did you win the contest?”
“No,” I say in the sincerest tone I can muster. There’s no way I’m telling Steve the truth. He’d probably sell the results to a tabloid, and I would lose the prize money. “I have cash saved up.”
“I thought you were almost out of cash.”
That’s what I told him after I had already loaned him three thousand dollars he never repaid. On top of that, he failed to pay me at least six paychecks.
I massage him on the shoulder. “Steve, how about we get you somebody to talk to.”
He pulls away from my hand. “Fuck you, Randy. I’m the one who helped you when you needed it.”
“And I appreciate it.”
“So don’t treat me like a fucking invalid. I’m in control of my shit.”
“Well, you sure as hell don’t look like it.”
Steve sniffs disdainfully and sucks hard on his last bit of cigarette. He’s practically smoking the butt.
“You just remember, I used to change your soggy diaper.” Steve always says that when he thinks I’m getting out of line, but according to my mom, he only changed one diaper and with her help. She had sprained her wrist, and he was over visiting.
“I remember,” I say as always.
Finally, Gina and Naomi show up in one car.
“About fucking time,” Steve says, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground.
I think better about reminding him that we are early. As soon as Jeremy agreed to wire the money to the account, I got so excited that I had to hurry up and get here. Of course, I had to tell him that I’m going into business with Gina and then had to agree to give him a stake in the company. I called Gina and Naomi and ran it by them. Gina would’ve rather put in more money instead of dividing shares with Jeremy. But I insisted on being fifty-fifty partners or none at all. I don’t need her holding her power over my head. Naomi insisted that Gina retain a controlling share of the restaurant. So in the end, I had to secure Jeremy’s loan with a portion of my share. If it were under any other terms, Gina said she would dump the both of us and go at it alone.
I expected Jeremy to put up an argument, but he didn’t, which means one thing—he’s into her. I know they went on some dates while I was away, but I never got to ask her how they went. He won’t tell me anything about it other than they didn’t finish all three because he got tired of her. I didn’t believe it when he told me then, and I sure as hell don’t believe it now.
Gina and Naomi get out of Naomi’s car. She has a new one. It’s a hefty gray BMW, the kind of car a lawyer would drive. They’re both watching Steve as though he’s a green Martian that just dropped in from outer space.
Naomi whispers something to Gina, who shakes her head.
“Let’s get this over with,” Steve says when they reach us. He doesn’t even shake the ladies’ hands. Hell, he doesn’t even acknowledge their beauty. He’s seen Gina before, but Naomi, never. The last time I checked, my uncle would have appreciated a fine specimen like her. But it seems all that can get him aroused these days is having more cash to gamble away.
We go inside, and the two ladies sit across from us. Once again, Gina can’t look me in the eye. Naomi starts discussing the terms line by line. She’s speaking legalese. Every now and then, Steve shifts his position or sighs hard, and only then does she pause and look at him. Once he settles down some, she moves on. Finally, she asks each of us to sign the contracts.
“Here.” Naomi directs Steve to write.
He scribbles his name as though he’s inconvenienced. Everything about him right now is painful to watch.
“Has the money been wired?” Steve asks.
I want to grab him by the shoulders and say, You don’t need the fucking money—not before rehab.
I sigh loudly and give Naomi a look. I’m aware she can’t read my mind, but I’m hoping to pass a message.
“It’ll be in your account a few hours after I release the funds.”
Steve flops back in his seat. “Then release the funds, please.” He’s looking at her as if he wants to bite her head off.
Naomi glances at me before she nods graciously. Maybe she picked up on my signal. I sure as hell hope so. She grabs her cell phone and taps the screen. Finally, she sets her phone on the table. “All done.”
Steve shoots to his feet like a missile. “Thank you,” he says in a bitter tone. He slaps the keys on the table.
“Enjoy this fucking money pit.”
He dashes out of here so fast that I would have to sprint to catch him. As soon as he’s outside, I turn to Naomi.
“Did you really wire the cash?” I ask.
“I got your signal.”
Fuck, I could kiss her on the cheek, but I wouldn’t want Gina to get the wrong idea. So I raise my hands to her graciously. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. But according to the contract, the funds can only be held for…” She looks at her watch. “Another four hours.”
I nod. “That’s all we need.” I stand and set my gaze on Gina’s beautiful face. Boy, would I love to celebrate the finalizing of the purchase with her tonight, but I can’t. Steve needs me—he needs us. I have a gang of phone calls to make.
“Talk to you later?” I say to Gina.
She gulps. “Sure.”
I’m still trying to figure out what in the hell is going on with her. “Then I’ll call you later tonight.”
Naomi shoots her a wide-eyed look. Gina ignores her and nods.
I nod and run out into the daylight. First things first—I need to call my dad. He can help me get the ball rolling.
15
I lay my head against the arm of my sofa. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds at the moment. The week has been long and the day huge. I now own my own restaurant. I reach my arm around my chest to pat myself on the back.
“Ouch.” My unsupported neck kinks a little.
I use my hands to prop myself up in a more upright position. My phone chimes, but I don’t feel like answering it. Instead, I just sit and let my big, puffy sofa hug me.
After about five minutes, I get up and fish my phone from my purse.
“Come over,” the message reads. I smile and walk back to the couch. Finally, Randy decided to use my number. It’s been a long day, but the thought of his warm, sculpted body brushing up against mine could be just what the doctor ordered.
I tap my finger against the screen but wait for a minute before typing a message. I’m too tired to go anywhere tonight, and besides, I just went to his place. I think it’s about time he comes to mine.
“Why don’t you come here?” I punch into the screen and tap Send. I stare at the screen for several seconds, waiting for his reply. My stomach cramps a little or growls—I’m not quite sure which. I set my phone down and walk to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers. By the time they’re nearly finished in the microwave, my phone chimes again. I wait for the timer to buzz, grab my food, and head back to the couch to find a response from Randy.
“You want me to come to your place?”
“Yes,” I text back.
“But I was planning on you coming over here ;)”
“Really… Come here ;)”
Several more seconds pass, and I set the phone down and start in on my food. To kill a little extra time, I turn on the TV. My favorite husband-and-wife remodel team is in the middle of turning an old barn into something magnificent. I set the remote down. I just love her style, and she always gives me ideas on how to do stuff. Maybe I’ll get a couple of ideas for the café.
Finally, I get his next text:
“What’s your address?”
I grin victoriously and send it to him.
“I’ll be over in a few,” he texts.
The doorbell rings about twenty-five minutes later. I get up while watching the final minutes of the home remodel show and unlock the door.
“Come in,” I say, all of a sudden bone tired and barfy but concealing how I feel. If this is going to be the new pregnant me, I’m in for a long haul.
Randy walks through the entry and scans the room. “Not bad for an old house.”
“Thanks.” I close and lock the door. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Water’s fine.”
I go to the kitchen and fetch glasses of ice water for both him and me. “Feel free to have a seat,” I holler.
When I get back to the living room, he’s standing at the mantel, looking at my pictures. “Here.” I hand him his glass.
He points. “These your parents?”
I go down the line, naming each—my grandparents, parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles.
He takes a sip of water. “The place really looks nice.”
“Thank you. I did it myself.”
“Excuse me,” he says. His eyes are wide, but I have a hard time seeing their bright-blue color in the dim light.
I reach over and turn on the lamp. “I’m good at everything I do.” Except for passing the bar, of course, and I’m not going to remind him of that. I wink at him, and suddenly, I realize I’m not feeling so barfy anymore.
Randy chuckles, and then we stare captivatingly at each other. After a moment, he takes his fingers and moves my hair from my forehead.
“Now I can see you better,” he says.
Somehow, suddenly, we’re standing immeasurably close.
“So how was the rest of your day?” I say.
“It was a challenge.”
“It was.”
“Yes. But I’m not here to talk about the rest of my day.”
My body tingles. “I’m glad to hear that.”
It’s silent.
“So what are you here for?” The smell of his sweet breath and scent of his body have me intoxicated. He’s never made me wait like this before, and my patience has worn thin. I lift my heels from the ground so that I’m standing on my tiptoes and stop just before our lips meet. He takes the bait.
Within a split second, our tongues are intertwined. My desire overtakes me. I grab him by the back of the head and bring his mouth closer to mine. I even get a piece of his lip between my teeth.
He pulls back, as if he’s just as unaware of this side of me as I am. But he only studies me for a second before he meets my intensity with his.
Randy pulls my hair downward, exposing my neck. His mouth and tongue devour my throat as if his very life depended on sucking the blood pumping through my veins. His heavy breathing warms my skin down to my collarbone.
All of a sudden, his lips, tongue, and teeth abandon my neck. His head snaps back. Randy looks feverishly into my eyes, a conflicted expression is on his face.
I hold onto his look with every ounce of my soul. Randy’s eyebrow rises slightly, and he again gives in. He undoes my pants and practically tears them to the floor along with my panties.
Both our hands reach his fly simultaneously. I force his pants to his ankles and drop to put his penis in my mouth. It’s hard already. I look at it for a moment before I begin twisting my head and hand around his shaft.
"Ah," he moans. I've never provided him with this pleasure, and seeing him enjoy it turns me on.
I look up. His mouth has fallen open, and he’s smiling with absolute contentment. His penis is rock hard.
He looks down. “I want to be inside you,” he whispers thickly.
I take his cock from my mouth, and he helps me to my feet. “My bedroom is through there.” I point toward the hallway.
He unbuttons his shirt but remains standing in front of me. “I want you right here.”
I look over at my couch and then at the fireplace behind me. There’s a Persian rug in front of it.
I take his hand and walk him over to the rug. His dick is still like a missile. I slide off my tank top, get on my knees, and take his shaft back in my mouth. I kiss it, suck it, and stroke it with my tongue until he’s rock hard and pulsing. He moans with each pass, followed by my hand.
"Thank you, baby.” His voice is thick.
Randy meets me down on the carpet and guides me on to my back. He ceremoniously parts my thighs and enters me with his rock-hard penis—at first, only half of it. Each thrust sends aggressive sensations through my body. If my pussy could moan, it would. Instead, I moan as Randy’s desirous hands take turns passionately caressing my tits and thighs. I close my eyes to delight in each stroke. It feels so good, and then he stops. I open my eyes. He’s staring at my f
ace.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
I nod and do as he commands. He resumes shifting his hips—slowly, deeply.
My insides are so sensitive. I close my eyes to feel every bit of pleasure that his thick dick stimulates.
“Look at me,” he commands.
My eyes pop open like they are responding to my master’s voice.
Suddenly, he grunts and quakes. He’s coming hard, and I always like to watch him enjoy the pleasure he derived from my pussy.
When his orgasm ends, he falls to the floor next to me. I roll on top of him to lie on his chest. My head rises with each of his breaths. I feel as if I could go to sleep right here, bare chest to bare chest, straddling him with my legs. My body is limp like a wet noodle and seems to meld perfectly with his.
“Gina,” he says.
“Yes.” I sigh. My ear remains nestled against his chest.
“What is it we have here?” His voice is soft.
I close my eyes. My heart sinks. I know that if there is a time to tell him, this should be it. He has to know everything. I take one last breath and cherish the feeling of my cheek lying against his barely damp chest.
I free myself from his embrace and lie beside him again, staring up at my Havana ceiling fan. “There’s something I need to tell you.” I turn to my side and rest my hand on his chest, watching him with a frown.
“What is it?”
I gulp, close my eyes, and take one last deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” I open my eyes.
He just looks at me with a troubled stare.
“You’re what?”
“I’m pregnant.”
He sits up. “What do you mean you’re pregnant? By who?”
I sit up too and gently place my hand on his shoulder. “You.”
He pulls away. Fearing the worst is beginning to happen, my heart begins to tear.
“How long have you known?”
“Not that long.”
“How long?” he demands.
Her Perfect Man- The Complete Series Box Set Page 57