by J. M. Maurer
I move in for a hug, just as Benjamin laughs at my comment.
“I will make good use of this very kind and thoughtful gift. Thank you, Miss Makayla.”
“Benji,” I warn. He knows I don’t like formalities. I’m not sure why he still insists on using them with me. I soften my tone. “Thank you for always being there for me. I can’t tell you what it meant to have you at my side growing up.”
“It was my pleasure, Makayla.”
I scoot back, meeting Benjamin’s blue eyes. He peers back at me over the silver rims of his glasses, a grandfatherly smile spreading across his round face.
I smile back as fond memories of our time together flood my heart. “Well, you’ll find a recipe for barbecue fish tacos inside. I know they’re one of your favorites. I hope you enjoy them.”
“You remember everything. Of course I will more than enjoy.”
How could I not remember? Benji was the grandfather I never had, and a huge part of our family. “I can see Eli inside. You go enjoy your day.”
“Thank you, Makayla. Before you go, will you require a ride for this evening?”
I shake my head. “I think we’ll take my car. I hope to show Eli around. We might just stay in town most of the day anyway. Unless you are planning on going tonight. In that case, we can come back and pick you up if you’d like.”
Benjamin seems amused. “No. No. That won’t be necessary. I think I will try one of these rubs from the North,” he teases with a wink. “You know how to get hold of me if you need anything.”
“I do.” But I’d never impose on Benjamin super late at night. Not when I can find my own way around town, in my own car.
Benjamin nods and steps forward to shake Eli’s hand one more time. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, sir. Welcome to Elmwood Manor.”
As Benjamin goes to move the car, I meet Eli’s gaze. “I doubt Mom and Dad are here. You ready to go inside?”
“When will they be home?” Eli asks at my side, lifting a foot and taking one step at a time.
“Not sure. If our schedules don’t meet up sometime during the day, you’ll meet them tonight.”
At the top of the steps, a burst of energy moves through me as I think about my surprise. Excited, I scan my fingerprint to unlock the front door.
Eli watches, his brows lifting high upon his forehead. “And what are we doing tonight?”
I show him inside and palm his cheek as he looks around. “I can’t tell you. It would ruin the surprise.”
His gaze darkens. “And what if I were to take that special key of yours and lock you upstairs? Would that ruin your surprise or make the evening better?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you lock yourself up there with me.”
He scoots closer, his dark eyes studying mine, and secures both his palms to my hips, tightening his hold. “Well, I’d hate to go outside your mother’s perfectly planned schedule, but I—”
“Schedules, schmedules,” a cheery voice says from the other side of the vestibule.
We turn to meet my sister’s approving gaze, her smile spreading a mile wide across her face.
“Don’t worry. I hacked into Mom’s account last night and reset several hours of your time. You should have plenty of time to lock yourselves up wherever you choose.”
I move to her like a bullet train headed to the beach. “Cee Cee!” I wrap her up in my arms, practically bouncing for joy that she has saved me from the wrath of Mom’s overscheduling. “How did you pick up those skills after only one semester at college?”
“She had a little help,” a deep voice remarks from behind her.
I follow Celia’s gaze to a tall blond man who then moves quickly to her side. My sister’s surprise is nearly as exciting as the one I’m holding for Eli. I scoot forward, feeling Eli close in behind me, and shake blondie’s hand.
“Hi. I’m Makayla, Celia’s big sister. You must be Wyatt Nicolson.” I shoot my gaze to Celia, flash her a smile, and release Wyatt’s hand.
I can’t wait to introduce Eli. I blindly search out his hand. We link like two magnets destined to come together. “My sister has told me about you,” I say, pulling Eli closer. “It’s nice meeting you, Wyatt. This is Eli Barringer.”
A part of me wants to tack on “my boyfriend” at the end of my introduction, but we’re merely coworkers who have become really good friends. It sounds kind of silly in my head to say, “This is Eli, my really good friend.” Even so, it doesn’t matter what title I give him. By my sister’s expression, she seems to already think there is a heck of a lot more going on between Eli and me.
As we stand in the foyer with Eli and Wyatt quickly striking up a conversation of their own, she slips me a knowing smile and leans closer to whisper into my ear. “Oh my God, M. He’s gorgeous. Tell me you’ve banged him.”
I gasp, then let out a strange laugh that causes both Eli and Wyatt to look over. It’s not something I was expecting my sister would ever say. Heat fills my cheeks to the point I’m certain the color of my face matches that of my hair.
She slaps my arm and opens her mouth, her expression one of great surprise. As my little sister, somehow she’s figured it out.
“No way. What are you waiting for?” she says loud enough that anyone inside the eleven thousand square foot home could hear.
If my cheeks weren’t already crimson before, they are now. Her words quickly become all too real.
“What?” Eli asks, shifting from his casual conversation with Wyatt to jump into the discussion Celia is trying to have with me. “What are you waiting for?”
I shoot my sister a look that says don’t you dare say a word. She smirks, pinches her thumb and forefinger together, and runs them along her lips, mimicking zipping them up.
Thinking fast, I turn to Eli. “To show you the rest of the house. That’s what I want to do. Right now. Show you the house. All of it. Inside. Outside.”
The garage. The roof. Heck, I’ll even show him the cook house we use when entertaining. Then walk him along every square inch of the four thousand acres of land my parents own, so I can mull over how I’m going to throw my sister down into the storm shelter and give her some words. Yeah, given my obsessive preoccupation with weather, the emergency storm shelter will help keep my sexy thoughts at bay and stop the mental images of ripping every piece of clothing off Eli.
On second thought, my interest in all things weather related waned significantly the instant I laid eyes on him. Perhaps the storm shelter isn’t going to work either. I narrow my eyes at Celia, seeing her roll her beautiful blues. She is a lot like me when it comes to brains. She’s smart. But we are polar opposites when it comes to some things. She has strawberry blond hair and a petite figure, and she wears clothes that are a whole lot more revealing than I ever would.
Eli loops his arm around my elbow and draws me closer to him. “Lead the way,” he says over his shoulder, peeking back at the cute couple in the foyer. “It was great meeting the two of you. If you don’t hear from us soon, I’ve found the secret key and locked her up in the tower.”
Celia lets out a couple exaggerated woots. I shake my head, grinning.
Eli winks, then slides his hand to the small of my back, ushering me further away from the possibility of smacking my sister silly.
“Now, where is this key? Wait. Don’t tell me.” He lifts my hand and draws it to his lips. His eyes growing more serious, he takes his time kissing the pad of my index finger. “So beautiful it is. I’ve seen it wrapped around a microphone. A mug of hot chocolate. Pushing a game piece around a board. Heck, it can even upload a daunting schedule.” He winks and kisses my finger again. “Watching it fluff up a starchy bow and open a locked door, I’m pretty sure it does all sorts of remarkably tactile things. Makayla, I’m so glad I’ve already found this special key of yours.”
Something tells me there is more to the proverbial key Eli believes he’s found. And the wicked smile that
dances across his lips makes me wonder if I might possibly be the key to his beautiful heart. If that is what he’s saying, this thing between us is going to be good. That is, if I can forget he’s still my coworker, these three days are going to be really, really good.
I think Eli is once again surprised when I lead him through a room Celia and I used as a playroom when we were kids. Mom has since remodeled the space, turning it into a sitting room for better use. Even so, the secret door inside the walk-in closet is still in its place, ready and waiting to be used. I tug on his hand, giggling to myself as we go through the door and meander down a long, narrow hallway that leads to a room with a large brick wall.
I stop in front of it and show Eli which stone he needs to push. He looks at me, his fingers once again fiddling with his chin. He does this every time he’s completely confused.
“Go on,” I encourage, certain he thinks I’m about to play some kind of cruel joke on him. “Push on it.”
He takes a moment, glancing between me and the wall. Eventually, he gives the brick I pointed out a hefty shove. When the wall slides inward, revealing another small room, he closes his eyes, runs both hands down his face, and lets out a sigh.
“It’ll still be there when you open them,” I say, watching and waiting for Eli to take another look.
He raises his lids but makes certain his line of sight is set on nothing but me. “Makayla.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “This sort of thing, I thought it only happened in movies.”
Oh, Eli. I have so much more to show you. “Well it doesn’t. Go on.” I nod for him to enter and make his way up the spiral staircase.
“You go first. I don’t want to drop my suitcase on you.”
“Okay, just don’t stare at my butt too long.”
“How’d you know I wanted to stare at your butt?”
“I’m a great guesser, remember?”
He slaps my backside and gives it a playful squeeze, then follows up with a grin that knows no bounds. “Did you know I’ve been dying to do that?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, sweetheart, you’re guessing percentage is quickly going down. In order to get your game back on track, I suggest you lead the way up those steps.”
“Why? So you can look at my butt?”
“Yes.” He broadens his grin. “You really are a good guesser and now your guessing percentage just went back up.”
I see where this is going and lead the way to the top of the stairs. I motion for Eli to open the door so I can watch his expression as he steps in and takes a look around.
He pauses upon entering and looks to the left, his sight roaming along the back wall of the house where a stone fireplace sits in front of an inviting U-shaped seating area that, these days, rarely gets used. Three black suede couches fill the space in front of the fireplace. Beyond the seating area, bookcases line three walls from the floor to the ceiling.
A moving ladder is attached at the top, sitting along a track the way it has since the day my father built it. A large desk sits in the middle of the bookcases, somewhat hiding an empty chair. Fond memories of sitting on my dad’s lap while he read me a story when I was a child enter my mind.
Eli’s features brighten as he looks around, the morning light filtering in through a wall of windows on the opposite side. Centered under the peak of glass, a cushioned seat spans twenty feet along the bottom of the window. I point to it, recalling the day Dad put it in—the day it became my favorite spot to watch the clouds and dream about more than what was tucked away inside the extra-long toy box I often sat on.
“I used to sit over there while Dad worked at his desk. During the winter, the warmth of the sun coming in through the window feels so good.”
“This is an impressive space. Do you ever use the fireplace?”
“Not that often. The opening on the main floor is the one that’s usually used. I could stay up here all day, though, sit on the couch and read a book. But we should get moving if you want to get to the real fun.”
Eli flashes me a wry smile that makes me think staying right here could turn out to be a whole lot of fun. But I’ll cave if we stay here, especially if he were to actually voice those thoughts I know he is thinking.
“Come on. Follow me,” I say, before I can give in and attack him anyway. “The guest suite is this way.”
He follows close at my side as I lead him down a hallway and past the opening of the main staircase that bifurcates the library side of the tower from the guest suite side.
“I’d have never guessed there was a normal way to get up here.” He snickers, pausing a moment in front of the dark-stained oak railing that overlooks the stairs, his focus directed at me. “Though I do appreciate the secret passageway. The view up was the best.”
I’m hot again, inside and out, his words doing their usual thing to my senses. “Mom and Dad would probably prefer you use this staircase.” Even though I know no one is nearby to hear, I sidle closer and whisper against his ear, “I certainly won’t tell them I showed you the other way to get up here.” I scoot even closer, run a finger up his arm, and rest my palm over his cheek. “The spiral staircase is a lot more fun going down. It gets really dark in there. Make sure you grab a flashlight so you can see where you’re going.”
I pat his cheek and shift to move away, but Eli snatches my wrist. His tight grip holds me and prevents me from showing him to his room. My stomach flutters and my arm tingles where his fingers clasp my skin. I tilt my head, gaze back at him through my lashes, and once again find myself overwhelmingly captivated.
His honey-brown eyes search mine as he inches closer and threads his fingers with mine. Our breath mingles in the thin space between us, our lips mere inches apart. In a move I don’t see coming, he tucks my hands behind me and holds them tight against the small of my back.
I suck in a breath when he pulls my body against his. He’s hard below. His eyes smolder mine. With him against me, I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, though I don’t need to know. In the moment, I really just want him to kiss me. If the bulging reaction filling his pants is any indication, I have a good idea what’s on his mind.
“Eli,” I whisper.
“Makayla,” he replies, his voice silky and smooth.
“I—” I stop myself, just before telling him exactly how badly I want him.
His touch, his lips, his body, his heart, I truly want it all. But if I kiss him now, I know I’ll submit, break my no-falling-for-the-coworker rule, and give everything I have of myself to him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his hands pushing at the small of my back, like he has this carnal desire to pull me in until I can’t possibly be any closer against him. He searches my eyes and slowly leans forward, letting his hot breath pulse across my skin.
I close my eyes in anticipation of our connection, confident I’m ready—ready to give and receive, ready to fully open up to him, ready to be more than just friends. I want Eli as far more than my cameraman. I want him as mine. And somehow, I know this is right.
“Makayla, darling.” The warm tone of my mom’s voice flutters up the stairs.
My eyelids fly open. My heart crashes hard, deep down into the pit of my stomach. And as quickly as the moment is lost, I silently curse her arrival.
“Where is your Eli?” she continues, her tone light and airy. “Hello? Are you up there? You know I am dying to meet him. Makayla?”
Without moving an inch, Eli tightens his hold, and grins like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Sadly, instead of kissing my mouth, he brushes his lips against my forehead. He leaves them in place for as long as he can, and when my mom’s footsteps grow louder, he releases my hands from his bond.
“Makayla,” Mom says again as Eli backs away. “Are you upstairs?”
“Yes, Mom.” I lock my sight on the man I’m having a hard time denying my feelings for and shrug, just before forcing my gaze down over the railing. “I just
finished showing Eli the library.”
Mom turns the last corner, looks up, and graces us with a welcoming smile that, were I not so perturbed that she showed up when she did, would have been the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen dancing across her face. “Oh good. I have finally found you.”
She moves to the top of the stairs and opens her arms to Eli, offering him a well-meaning hug.
Eli obliges with a sweet embrace, then steps back as Mom does the same to me before quickly stashing Eli’s luggage in his room. Back at our side, she starts in with a question-and-answer session that is sure to last as long as any dreaded deposition would.
Her inquiries range from how our flight in was, to breakfast on the plane, to if we are still hungry. Clearly not satisfied with the answers both Eli and I have provided, she crosses her arms and switches her excited expression to one that is much more serious. “So tell me, Eli, is my daughter really surviving Cleveland?”
“I believe so. She’s as independent as any woman I’ve ever known.”
Mom flashes Eli an incredulous stare. Seeing it, I begin to worry she might whip out her handy-dandy Bible and require us to raise our right hands and voice our promise to tell nothing but the truth.
Thankfully she does neither, so I step in. “How about we move the conversation downstairs?”
“Great idea, Makayla,” Mom says and leads the way.
At the breakfast table Mom sits down on the far side, tells us to help ourselves to any one of the fruit-filled fried pies she has laid out on the silver platter, and then mentions a bowl on a warming plate that’s filled with grits.
Eli pulls out my chair, just as I let my gaze roam past a carafe filled with hot tea and a plate of fresh fruit. He waits until he’s sure I’m scooted in and comfortable before taking a seat at my side.
I quickly become less interested in the fancy spread and more perturbed that my sister hasn’t walked by. The way I see it, her appearance is the one thing that might save us from being interrogated by my mother. And honestly, after her loud comment earlier, I think she kind of owes me. Unfortunately, Celia is nowhere to be found. Neither is Wyatt, a cat, or a dog. Since there is nothing that is going to save us, the interrogation commences.