by Kate Pearce
“Bedroom?” he managed to mutter. “Or right here?”
“Bedroom,” Yvonne said. “Because—”
He simply picked her up and took her there, easing her onto the bed and following her down a second later, scattering the throw pillows everywhere. His hands were all over her, easing down her pajama pants, and sliding under her T-shirt, his thumbs settling over her already hard nipples.
“Oh . . .” Yvonne shoved a hand down inside his jeans to find what she guessed would be the most perfect ass in the universe.
He firmly removed her hand. “You first.”
“That’s very sweet of you.”
He captured both of her wrists over her head and smiled down at her. “I have to tell you that I’m not feeling particularly sweet right now.”
“That’s—” Her words ended as he kissed her again with a slow, possessive thoroughness that focused her scattered thoughts on the amazing sensations he was arousing in her.
“Mmm, you taste like coffee,” he murmured, nibbling on her lower lip. “I want to eat you up.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
His grin was wicked as he kissed his way down her throat and over her stomach and ended up between her legs, his hand releasing her wrists, and settling on her breast.
“Rio . . .”
She clenched her fingers in his hair as he delicately tongued and licked her; the hint of his stubble added a delicious element to her building arousal. Then he added his fingers, and sent her over into an intense and deeply satisfying climax.
When she opened her eyes, he was smiling down at her, the dimple on his cheek clearly visible.
“Good?”
“Not bad.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but wasn’t sure she was successful. “Come here.” She reached for the button of his jeans, and he froze over her.
“Wait.” He sounded even more desperate than she felt. “I don’t have protection.”
“Dammit!” She gazed up at him and wanted to cry. “Neither do I.”
With a groan, he rolled off her, and buried his face in her frilly pink pillows.
She shakily pushed the hair out of her eyes and sat up. What on earth had she been thinking? She was almost thirty. How could she have been so irresponsible?
“What time is it?” Rio asked.
Bewildered, Yvonne glanced at her bedside clock. “Just before seven, why?”
“Stay there.” He rolled off the side of the bed, grabbed his shirt, and headed for the door at a gallop.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking your keys!” he shouted out to her.
“But . . .” She flopped back on the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for her body to calm down and stop wailing at the loss of the finest specimen of manhood she had ever been privileged to see up close and personal.
Had he gone back to the ranch? Yvonne considered her current position. Had she scared him off for good? Did he really expect her to just lie there like a maiden in distress, and wait for his possible return? After the climax he’d given her, she had no inclination to go anywhere anyway; her body was humming and sighing with joy. She consulted her clock. She’d give him fifteen minutes. If he didn’t turn up again, she’d get more coffee and call him.
* * *
Rio pulled his T-shirt on, checked that his jeans were at least still buttoned, and ran down the stairs to the kitchen. He put on his boots and was out the door and heading diagonally across Main Street, to the corner of Morgan, before he really drew another breath.
The Red Dragon was open. With a prayer of thanks, he ran straight for the restrooms and made a quick financial transaction with the machine before hurrying out again.
By the time he reached the top of the stairs of Yvonne’s apartment, he was breathing as if he smoked sixty cigarettes a day and wheezing to match. He realized he still had his boots on and kicked them off before heading back into the bedroom.
He paused at the door to admire the luscious sight of Yvonne sprawled out on the bed and instantly felt better. He’d been expecting her to be sitting up and asking him all kinds of pointed questions. Instead she looked like a beautifully rumpled princess it would be his pleasure to awaken with a kiss. A slight rattling sound had him advancing closer to see that she was fast asleep and snoring lightly.
So much for kissing her awake . . .
He glanced at the condom packet, and then back at Yvonne, and made his decision. She needed her sleep more than he needed to get laid, and at least this time he’d managed to get her almost naked. His dick disagreed with his mature decision, but he drew the sheets over her, placed the pack of condoms on the pillow, and tiptoed out into the hallway.
He took a moment to go into the bathroom and wash before he placed her keys on the countertop, drank his coffee, and turned off the machine.
Next time he’d live up to his Boy Scout motto and be prepared.
Chapter Eight
“Yvonne! I’m glad I caught you!”
Margery Hoffa came into the café with a professional-looking clipboard clasped to her bosom and a militant gleam in her eye. She wore her usual blue “I’m a Realtor” uniform of a well-cut skirt suit and blouse with high heels that Yvonne couldn’t imagine were comfortable to walk around in all day.
“Hi, how can I help you?” Yvonne wiped her hands on her apron, and stepped up to the counter. Lizzie had disappeared off to the bathroom again.
“I wanted to know if you and your staff will sign this.” Margery handed over the clipboard. “It’s a petition to the town council and county board of supervisors to prevent the Morgans from building cheap housing in Morgantown.”
Yvonne took her time reading through the call to action, and then handed the clipboard back to Margery. She was surprised to see that there were already quite a few signatures on it.
“I’m sorry. I can’t sign that, but you’re welcome to ask any of my clients in the café.”
“Why can’t you sign it?” Margery asked.
“Because we do need more housing here to keep young families around, and to house our increasing workforce.”
“But what about property values?”
“That’s your line of work, Margery. I just feed people, and the more people who come through my doors, the better.”
“It’s unlikely that the kind of people who exist on ranch wages or in minimum-wage jobs will be able to afford your prices.” Margery’s gaze swept the glass-fronted display counter. “I mean, three dollars for a croissant? I can get a dozen at the supermarket for twice that.”
“And they will taste like it.” Yvonne tried to remain pleasant. “Just think about it this way. A lot of those new families might expand, earn more, and end up buying bigger and better properties from you.”
“I suppose that might happen.” Margery didn’t look convinced. “But I still don’t like it.”
“No one likes change, Margery. I get that, but on this occasion, reviving old buildings within the town, and maybe adding some affordable housing, would be a good thing for the community.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Margery’s gaze swept the coffee shop. “But you don’t mind if I put a copy of the petition up on your community noticeboard, do you?”
“Be my guest.” Yvonne tried not to monitor what went up on there too much.
“Thank you.” Margery hesitated, her gaze lingering on the lines of cream cakes. “I must be off. I have a client coming in at eleven.”
Yvonne took the sheet for the petition and smiled at her neighbor. “Then have a great day!”
Margery left, and Yvonne walked over to the noticeboard just inside the door and spent a few minutes removing old stuff and repositioning the new items. It was an eclectic mix of local classes, lost pets, babysitters, and community outreach programs. The petition didn’t sit well with any of it, but she’d promised to put it up there, and she was a woman of her word.
She stood back and reread the heading. It seemed as if Chase M
organ might have a fight on his hands for the future of Morgantown after all....
* * *
“So what gives, girlfriend?” Nancy handed Yvonne a ten-dollar note, and accepted her change and coffee. Today her hair was blue and silver, but Yvonne was fairly certain it was a new wig. “The other evening, your Rio ran into the bar restrooms, and then out again like the hounds of hell were pursuing him.”
“Oh, that’s where he went,” Yvonne said. “I suppose it makes sense.”
She’d woken up to her alarm going off at four in the morning, and discovered that not only was she alone, but that her stealthy seducer had left a packet of condoms on her pillow, and disappeared.
“What do you mean, that’s where he went?” Nancy asked.
Yvonne checked to see who was around in the café, and lowered her voice. “Things got a bit hot and heavy between us, and then we both realized we didn’t have protection, so he disappeared on me, and I . . . fell asleep.”
Nancy slowly closed her mouth. “You fell asleep?”
“I’d had a long day,” Yvonne said defensively.
“But did you fall asleep before, during or after?”
“I suppose during, but only just.” Yvonne gave Nancy her best stare. “I’m not sharing the details, so don’t ask.”
“So basically he didn’t get any?”
“Possibly not,” Yvonne said diplomatically. “He certainly didn’t come back and take advantage of me in my sleep.”
“Did you get some?”
“I might have.” Yvonne tried not to smirk.
“Poor guy.” Nancy shook her head.
“What about poor me?”
“You fell asleep!” Nancy’s chuckle was hard to resist. “That’s kind of hilarious.”
“Okay, I suppose it is,” Yvonne agreed. “But what do you think I should do about it?”
“He hasn’t called you?”
“He texted me to say he had gotten a ride back to the ranch with Billy, and hoped I had a good night’s sleep.”
“And what did you say to that?”
“I haven’t replied to him.” Yvonne sat down at the small table nearest the counter. “I don’t know what to say.”
Nancy sat opposite her, her sandwich forgotten in its bag. “You don’t know what to say? What the hell is going on in this world?”
“We talked about not being in the right place to have a relationship, and we agreed that was the plan,” Yvonne said. “It all came out of nowhere. He was just showing me his tattoo. . . .”
Nancy snorted.
“He took off his shirt, and things just got a bit out of control due to his extreme hotness, and my inability to control my lust for his body. The next thing I know, I’m practically devouring him on my kitchen table, all practical thoughts wiped from my brain.”
“By his sheer hotness, go on.” Nancy nodded.
“So what do I do now?” Yvonne asked. “It was a moment that came from nothing, so we should go back to just being friends who can’t commit, right?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you want to take things further again.”
“But we agreed not to do that for Very Good Reasons.” Yvonne groaned. “It was a spontaneous moment. Not a planned seduction, which is a different thing entirely.”
Nancy studied her intently. “Okay, I’m confused. What’s the problem here? Spontaneous sex is okay, but having a relationship with sex isn’t?”
“Exactly. And I can’t be spontaneous again.”
“Why not?”
“Because then it would be premeditated sex because I now know how hot he is, and I want more.”
“And premeditated sex means you’re in a relationship.” Nancy slowly shook her head. “You know that’s nuts, right?”
“I am aware of that,” Yvonne agreed. She’d spent several precious hours of her life already trying to make sense of everything and gotten nowhere.
“How about you have another honest conversation with the man, and see whether he wants to have a relationship with you?”
“Because we can’t have a relationship right now!” Yvonne almost raised her voice. “Nothing has changed apart from his hotness factor and my lust. Last time I gave into lust, I ended up married to someone who didn’t really care for me after the sexual attraction burned away.”
“You were a lot younger then, and grieving because you’d just lost your parents,” Nancy reminded her gently. “You know yourself better now, and you know what you want.”
“I thought I did,” Yvonne said miserably. “But maybe I was wrong.”
“If he really is a good guy, then you need to tell him what’s going on. You can’t just hope that another situation will arise that will just fling you together so you can have sex with no strings attached.” Nancy sipped her coffee. “It’s not like you’re leaping in and marrying the guy like you did last time. You’ll still be an individual and you won’t have to go through the pain of divorce again.”
“Mon Dieu.” Yvonne brought her hand to her mouth. “I just had a terrible thought.”
“Why? Did you accidentally marry Rio in your sleep?”
“I hope not.” Yvonne let out her breath, her happiness deflating like a soufflé. “Because, if I did, that might make me a bigamist.”
“A what?” Nancy gulped down her coffee.
“I left Paul handling the divorce in France.” Yvonne stared wide-eyed in horror at her friend. “I’m not sure he ever got back to me with the legal paperwork.”
* * *
Half an hour later, Yvonne was sitting at her desk, staring blindly at the screen. Did she even have a current phone number for her ex? He’d moved around a lot in the past four years, and she wasn’t sure she’d kept up.
“Don’t panic, Yvonne,” she murmured to herself. “There is a perfectly straightforward way to solve this. You just call Paul, ask him what’s happening, and simply drop a casual question as to the whereabouts of the paperwork for the divorce into the conversation.”
She bit her lip. Like he wouldn’t be immediately suspicious if she called him after four years of nothing. Hell, she’d freaked out when he’d emailed her on their anniversary.
Email.
That would be a lot easier, and she’d have the excuse that she was replying to the message he’d sent her a couple of weeks ago. She clicked on his email, and brought it up on the screen.
Thinking of you . . She considered his words again. Did he want something? Was there a reason why he’d emailed out of the blue? Maybe there was some negotiating room after all. She took a deep breath and started typing in English.
Hi Paul, hope all is good with you, and that the restaurant business is treating you well. AND, BY THE WAY, YOU COMPLETE IDIOT, WHERE ARE MY DIVORCE PAPERS??
Yvonne hastily deleted the part in caps, and considered if she could phrase it better. Then she deleted all of it and tried again.
Hi Paul, thanks for thinking about me on what was once our special day. I can’t believe it’s been four years since you callously walked out leaving me heartbroken and alone! Did you ever get around to filing for divorce like you promised me you would, or is that yet another thing you let me down on?
It was better without any caps, but still not quite the sentiment she was trying to get across.
Hey Paul, funnily enough I was thinking about you on that special day myself because my accountant was asking for details of our divorce for tax purposes.
I realized I didn’t have a copy of the legal document. Can you send me one? Thanks a million. Yvonne
She grimaced at the screen. It wasn’t good, but in her present state of agitation, it was the best it was going to be. They’d been married in France and, according to the laws of that country, she had to petition for divorce there.
She hit send. He’d probably be asleep at the moment, so she didn’t have to worry about a reply until the next day. Which meant she’d only have to worry herself to death for
a short while.
A reply icon flashed up on her screen, and she almost died from shock.
Hey, thanks for getting back to me! The divorce thing got a bit complicated, but it’s back on track now, so I can get you all the paperwork you need. I’m currently in New York talking about setting up a new restaurant here, so maybe we can get together before I leave? I wanted to talk to you about something anyway.
Yvonne stared at the message. He’d probably forgotten to file for the legal separation when he’d returned home. He might not have had the funds or delayed just to annoy her. Either option could be true. She Googled the French divorce laws again to remind herself of the criteria, and realized they’d been apart long enough now to fit the standards to legally separate without having to appear before a judge. If Paul didn’t sort things out, she might be able to assist him. She typed a reply.
Meeting up sounds great, but I’m not sure if you are aware that I live on the West Coast, so I’m quite a long way from New York!
She hit send and sat back, resisting the unusual urge to bite her nails.
I’m flying into San Francisco in a couple of weeks. Can we meet there or at your place?
Sure! Yvonne typed.
Then I’ll be in touch when I have more concrete plans. Au revoir. Paul
Had he really sorted out the divorce? Yvonne considered her ex-husband’s amazing ability to charm and lie himself out of any corner. Was it possible for her to check the status of her marriage through the French system? They were probably online somewhere.
Yvonne sighed and got out of her chair. She’d already been away from the kitchen for too long, and even though Tom was improving nicely, the work was mounting up. If she couldn’t work out how to access the French legal system online, she knew a man who could. Chase Morgan had never met a software system he hadn’t conquered, and she knew January would offer her husband to help out her best friend.