“Nope. He’s long gone. The fool had less than a year left to serve, too.”
“That’s a shame.”
“How about you, Rose? Did you ever find another Sunday morning client?”
“No.” She leaned across the table and brought her hand up to her mouth. “I’m the head chef in a real restaurant now.”
“Seriously? You quit naked cheffing?” Why did that please him so?
She nodded. “One of my other clients, a woman, went rogue on me. I figured it was only a matter of time till they all did.”
He grinned. “Wouldn’t blame them. You were definitely the tastiest thing on the menu, Rose.”
Even in the low light he could see her pleased blush.
Another round of beers appeared at the table and a few more well wishers dropped in. Chairs were rearranged to make room, separating him from Rose. He checked his watch. Almost ten. He could make a graceful exit now and not be missed.
He went over to Mike and shook his hand and said goodnight. Then he glanced toward Rose. She stared at him from across the crowded space, her eyes big and dark.
“Good night,” he mouthed and gave her a little wave.
She raised her hand in response.
He shrugged into his jacket, then made his way through the maze of tables and out the front door.
He’d gone maybe two hundred feet when he heard his name called. His heart began to pound. In a pool of light from a nearby street lamp, he turned to see Rose sprinting toward him.
“Wait up,” she called.
In her clicky heels it took several seconds for her to reach him even though she hurried. He ascertained that she was definitely not wearing a bra. In her haste to reach him she’d left her coat behind. Her breath made a cloud in her wake.
“It’s freezing out here,” he said as she drew near. “Where’s your coat?”
“I’ll just be a second,” she said. His belly clenched in pain, his foolish hopes fading. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“A favor? Sure, name it.” His nonchalance sounded forced even to him.
She came up close so that the tips of her breasts brushed the front of his jacket. Her big brown eyes searched his face. In the yellow glow of the streetlight her hair appeared haloed, ethereal. This is how I will remember her, he thought, looking like some kind of glorious angel.
“The favor?” he prompted.
She bit her lip. Then she laid her hand on his chest and took a big breath.
“Take me to your bed, Zack. Make me lose control. Make me forget everything but you.”
Epilogue
Weak sunlight streamed into his apartment that Sunday morning. The winter solstice had passed and Christmas loomed. Zack lounged at the table in his favorite robe, a cup of exotic coffee in hand.
At the stove, Rose stirred the Hollandaise and poached the eggs, just as she had in his fantasies these last six months. Her soft, naked breasts jiggled and swayed, her hips undulated, she hummed a tuneless song under her breath as she worked. Now and then she glanced up and smiled at him, her beautiful face smooth and rested.
She should be rested, he thought. They’d been in bed for three nights and days straight, ever since the trial. Of course, they hadn’t been sleeping for most of that time.
He grinned. He wanted to laugh out loud. He wanted to shout to the heavens and say silly, declarative things about love and forever. But that could wait a little while. They were still finding their way back to each other. That they were on the same path and moving in the same direction was enough for now.
Rose came toward him, bearing a big white platter full of wonderful things to eat. Toast points smothered in the golden sauce, asparagus spears, the perfect eggs, and disks of crusty ham. She set it down before him on the table. But he quickly swiveled to one side, pulling her in to park her body between his knees.
“Come here, you,” he murmured. “You’re what I want for my breakfast.”
“Umm, yummy,” she said.
Her breasts were at mouth level, the perfect height for sucking on. He did that now, treating first one rosy nipple and then the other to a vigorous bath. She threw her head back and moaned low in her throat, fingers digging into his shoulders. And then his sly hand strayed down and found its way behind her lacy apron, invading the dark cleft between her thighs. He heard the sharp catch of her breath and smelled the perfume of her arousal.
“Marry me, Rose,” he said hoarsely.
He waited for it, the stab of fear that had always speared him through.
But it never came.
“I will, Zack” she said, and kissed him.
The End
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Naked Treats Page 6