by Holley Trent
“Nothing sounds okay. We can make the bed neutral territory.”
“Mm hmm.” He kissed down, down, down to her naval, made a slow, circuitous lick around her bellybutton then kissed some more until he was at the waistband of her shameful pants. There, he paused to hook his fingers beneath the elastic and drew her pants and panties down in one easy glide, stopping when he reached her ankles.
She kicked them off the end of the bed and felt his fingers glide up her legs from feet to knees then stopping at her thighs. He nudged them apart a bit, and then more, and then more still so she was fully exposed and feeling rather brazen with the cool breeze of the air conditioner fanning down on her from the vent.
“I owe you this,” he said, parting her sex with his fingers and bending his face over her thighs.
She considered any number of snappy retorts, but in the end decided to keep her mouth shut for once. Having the last word wasn’t worth experiencing the delay of his skillful tongue against her most delicate area. Instead, she just relaxed against the pillow and let him hold her thighs down against the mattress as he probed inside her with his tongue and sucked at her aroused clit with those soft lips.
She squashed her compulsion to tell him to use fingers there or to rub that, and instead let him do it his way. His way was just fine, and although she ached for his cock to fill her once again, his careful, considerate attention to her sex was more than adequate. She laced her fingers through the back of his thick hair, encouraging him, creating more friction from his stubble against her sensitive folds. When she was close, he worked in one finger, then two, and flicked them against her belly.
He was right. She was a scratcher. At least the cuts on his shoulders would have overnight to scab.
• • •
The next two days of meetings were seamless and informative, thanks to Aaron’s charismatic leadership and the support of his long-time crew who not only took their jobs quite seriously, but also had become something like ambassadors for the cause. He was proud of every single one of them as he made the rounds and watched them participate in breakout sessions and brainstorming clusters.
Mandy had fit right in where he expected, and already had Tina and Eleanor trapped in her orbit. She was a quick study, and by Sunday morning at the closing breakfast already had the new staff tracking system up and running. She’d spent most of her nights working on it on her new laptop, in fact. He had to drag her to bed. He was lonely.
Already, he’d grown used to waking up in a sweaty tangle of limbs with the petite hotblood. He loved opening his eyes to find her body curled into his, her long bangs covering her face, lips slightly parted. He loved having her sit there on the edge of the bed watching him pull on his socks and shoes. He loved how when she counseled Elly, rather than stomp and huff away, Elly would sit thoughtfully a while and just think. He loved how comfortable she was at her most casual — sprawled on the sofa in the living area in those damned awful pajamas and in her glasses, holding the television clicker, and laughing unabashedly at the corniest jokes late night television had to offer.
He didn’t get it. There was a rightness about her proximity — her presence in his life — that seemed prescribed. She fit into a space he hadn’t even realized was empty without even pursuing him. She hadn’t pursued him like all the other girls did. Maybe that was it?
Well, he may not have understood the phenomenon, but he wasn’t ready to strain its limits just yet. Eleanor had offered to put her up once learning of her housing situation, but he’d stepped in and informed his mechanic Mandy had already made arrangements. He sent her to his apartment in Durham with the spare key, urging her to make herself at home.
Meanwhile, he headed south along the coast toward Southport with Elly in the front seat of his SUV. They were due to meet their aunt, who’d keep Elly at her cottage there until she got her travel documents re-issued. Then she’d hide her out in Bermuda until Carter could whisk the maternal waif away.
Aaron was quieter than usual, because even self-centered Elly noticed his brooding.
“You’re awful quiet, big brother. What’s wrong? Chas keep you up all night?”
He said nothing. He extracted his pen from the pouch of the driver’s side door and twirled it in his left hand.
“Okay. Maybe you’d like me to guess. Is that the game we’re playing?”
“I’m not playing any games, Elly.”
“Then what is it? Normally, you’d be using this time to lecture me without letting me get a word in edgewise.”
“You want a lecture? I have one or two rehearsed.”
“Not particularly, but if it’s on the horizon, I’d just as soon get it over with now rather than later. I’d like to nap.”
He tapped his pen against the door’s armrest and ground his teeth.
“Is it about work?”
“No.”
“Ooh! I like this game. If I ask a direct question you’ll answer, right?”
Silence again.
At that, Elly seemed to decide to try another tactic. “Mom’s plan was to keep my marriage hidden until after the gubernatorial election.”
“That’s more than a year from now.”
“I know, but sometimes the public has a long memory.”
He dropped his pen into the receptacle and used his freed hand to rub the stubble on his chin. He hadn’t shaved it that morning because Mandy said she liked a little scruff. She’d certainly seemed to like the way it felt on her thighs. He shook off the thought. All of his spare thoughts went to Mandy. It was like some kind of sickness, pervading every pore of him.
“Maybe you should explain to me why you’re engaging in the practice of covert marriage in the first place, Elly. Getting married in and of itself isn’t a particularly scandalous activity. You’re a grown woman, even if not a particularly mature one. No one should give two shits about your matrimonial status.”
“You really don’t know anything about the Patels, do you?”
He shrugged and activated the cruise control. They were finally out of an area where stoplights throttled the trip every two miles. “I don’t keep up with the political and diplomatic shit. You know that.”
Elly’s laugh sounded like a frightened pig’s squeal. She’d leaned as far over as she could beneath the seatbelt and nearly lost her breath from the uncontrollable giggles. “Fine governor’s kids we make!” she said when she finally caught her breath.
He managed a chuckle. Maybe it was a little bit funny. His voter registration card still listed him as unaffiliated. Obviously the press hadn’t caught wind of that particular snub yet. His own father didn’t know. His mother did. Some campaign literature from the other side was sent to the house one year and she called him on it. He’d had to explain he was getting junk mail from both sides and the independent guy.
Elly twirled a long strand of her hair around two clamped fingers. “Here’s the thing. The Patels are sort of well known for their extreme viewpoints about certain issues.”
“Issues like what?” He looked over in time to see Elly shrug.
“Well, suffice it to say a few issues in direct opposition to components of Daddy’s platform.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you intentionally sought this guy out just to ruffle Dad’s feathers.”
Elly was suddenly very interested in the state of her manicure.
“You did, didn’t you?”
Another shrug. “Well maybe at first, but have you seen Carter? Oh my god, he is so yummy.”
“Yeah. I’ve seen him. Not my type. Now that I understand what’s going on, I can see why Rick is so disgruntled.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No. In fact, I think it’s hilarious. Not the secret baby shit, but the fact Mom tried to keep it a secret from Dad. I didn’t think she had it
in her.”
“Oh, she’s full of surprises. Just you wait.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothin’.” She flipped her little coin purse in the air and caught it.
The pattern seemed strangely familiar.
CHAPTER 12
Mandy used the reflection of her rearview mirror to tuck her long bangs up into the silk scarf she’d tied around her head a la Audrey Hepburn. In her glove compartment was her second-best pair of sunglasses: the oversized ones with the very dark lenses and tortoiseshell frames she wore only in a pinch because they made her nose disappear. She grabbed them, shoved them onto her face, and adjusted the closure of her wrap dress by securing a brooch where it came together at the bust.
She hadn’t actually planned to leave the apartment that day, having an entire stack of reference check calls to make, but while reading the newspaper over Aaron’s shoulder at breakfast she saw a sales ad for her old haunt, Ermine’s. Ermine’s never held sales. They hadn’t had to. The stock, when she was there, was carefully selected by her experienced co-manager and often exclusive to the store. For instance, Ermine’s was the only place in North Carolina that stocked Sweet Louisa leather goods.
She had a turquoise Sweet Louisa wallet, a crocodile-print wristlet, a silver glasses case, and a black evening clutch she kept wrapped in tissue paper and planned to dig out of storage very soon. That was in addition to the casual grapey clutch Chelsea kept trying to snatch. Mandy loved the sweet and quirky fabrics used in the linings and how the tags sewn inside always had little compliments like I love your style! and You should be a model.
For Ermine’s to be having a sale, something must have really changed in the three months since she was canned. So, she was there to snoop. She’d waited a good hour until after Aaron left for work to dress and slip out, then drove the twenty minutes to the store hoping the best, but expecting the worst.
The shop windows were dark and devoid of their usually glorious seasonal displays when Mandy walked up. In the past, they had been works of art created by an enthusiastic junior manager who had a background in theater. One year he’d used rolled up shawls and tights as tree ornaments in a Christmas display. The customers, many whom had patronized the store since its opening in 1955, loved and expected the attention to detail.
As Mandy stood in front of the cheerless store, the only things in the windows were heavy black drapes behind four stark white mannequins clad in barely there cocktail dresses she wouldn’t be caught dead in. If she had wanted to show off her underwear, there were better ways to do it.
She took a deep breath to gird herself and pulled open the door. After two piddly steps into the formerly grand store, she froze. “What. The. Hell.”
The gorgeous hardwoods were gone, replaced with a black polished cement floor. The old wood shelves and stands were gone, too, and in their place were utilitarian metal T-stands chockfull of polyester fashions. Even the smell, formerly rich and slightly sweet-smelling from the polish the loving cleaning crew used on the antique accents, was now flat and institutional. Antiseptic, even.
What had once been a store little girls looked forward to growing into for their graduation dresses or first pair of sensible black pumps was now a teenybopper’s delight. Her breath caught and she felt tears welling up behind her eyes. Where was the Sweet Louisa? There had formerly been an entire corner devoted to the line. In its place was nylon backpacks and stands filled to the rims with funky canvas shoes.
“Like, can I help you find something?”
Mandy turned around to ogle the source of the voice. She didn’t recognize the sales girl nor any of the attire she was clad in. It was cheap. Disposable. Barely covering anything, just like everything else in the store. Being taken over by a corporate conglomerate was the worst thing that could ever happen to Ermines, even if their books were in the black. The charm was gone. Apparently, so was the staff. Her firing suddenly had an extra stink to it, ’cause she damn sure didn’t fit in with the new vibe.
“No, thank you,” Mandy said, adjusting her scarf. “I don’t believe I’ll find what I need here.”
“Oh, like, do you need a special size or a different color? We can order something for you and have it Thursday morning.”
Mandy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
The girl shrugged and was turned to walk away, but Mandy’s curiosity got the best of her.
“Excuse me, is Taylor working today?”
The girl cocked her head to the side and squinted. “I don’t know that name. I’ve only been here three weeks, though.”
“How about Alaina?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Sorry. Don’t know that one, either.”
“Great. Thanks.” Mandy retreated to the door and left without looking back.
She was halfway back to her car and had started unwrapping her scarf when raised voices from the loading dock at the side of the store grabbed her attention. She paused and cocked her head to the side expecting to see the usual white delivery trucks, but her breath caught in her chest when she realized it wasn’t one of those. It was the distinctive, paisley-printed delivery truck of Sweet Louisa! She started running. It was as if her feet were moving of their own volition. She didn’t stop until she reached the driver who was screaming so loud at the receiving manager — also someone Mandy didn’t recognize — the veins in the driver’s neck were standing out.
“What’s wrong, Toby?”
Toby’s eyes went wide as he saw her there and he opened his arms for a hug. “Mandy! How the Hell are you? Where’ve you been?”
“I got fired three months ago. I’m just visiting and … well, I see everything has changed.” She shifted her gaze to the tall, lean manager dressed in faded flare jeans and a cropped summer-weight sweater. She pegged her to be around forty and raised a brow at the woman’s uneven bottled tan.
“That’s probably the best thing for ya. Listen, I’m just trying to pick up the Sweet Louisa stock that got recalled because they don’t wanna sell it anymore.”
“Huh? Why the Hell not?” Mandy crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at the woman.
The manager shrugged. “It’s not hip enough.”
Mandy scoffed. “You’re fucking insane. Good luck making up that big gaping hole in your profits at quarter’s end.” She turned back to Toby. “So, what’s the problem?”
“They can’t find the stock. Or at least they claim. You know how much that stuff is worth?”
Mandy nodded. “I do.”
“We’re not responsible,” the manager said.
“That’s what she keeps saying. The big boss is coming out here to deal with it, and let me tell you, she ain’t happy about it. She don’t come out of her studio too much. Hope she don’t have my head for this, but there weren’t no one else who could come.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Mandy said, though she was thinking quite the opposite. What had they done with all that back stock? Liquidated it? If so, they deserved whatever blowback they got. “Good seeing you, Toby. Uh … where’s the new North Carolina vendor?”
He shrugged. “Still looking. We’ll probably just keep the excess at the outlet until the boss vets the boutiques. Oh!” He dug in the pocket of his jumpsuit and handed Mandy a card. “I don’t give out too many of those, but you’re special.”
She studied the paisley-decorated paper and felt her heart go pitter-pat. She imagined there must have been stars in her eyes.
“Thanks, Toby.”
“You got it.”
Mandy blew him a kiss and continued her trek to her car. As she held her arm up to remote her car locks open, a familiar voice called out to her from across the lot.
“Is that my Mandy Candy?”
She turned around just in time to see Phil Armentrout punched in the upper arm by
a pretty redhead.
“Ow!” he whined while rubbing his bicep. He bid the woman to wait by his car while he picked his way across the packed lot to Mandy.
He held his arms out for a hug but she put up her hands to ward him off. “Hi, Phil. Sorry, I’m … uh … recovering from strep.” She coughed twice.
Phil shook his head. “Damn, again? Strep really loves you, huh?”
“Yeah, it does. Let’s walk and talk. I have somewhere to be.”
She tried to sound pleasant as often as she could, but Phil had been one of those break-ups that had left her feeling cold for a long time afterward. He was the one who said he was seriously considering moving west, but then she saw his car several months later still parked in front of his townhouse. There was no ‘for sale’ sign in the window, nor was the unit available to rent. She hadn’t confronted him about the lie, not even when he’d come into Ermine’s with some new woman on his arm — and not the redhead.
“I haven’t seen you in a while, hot stuff. Where’ve you been keeping yourself?”
“I moved back home for a while.” She pulled the handle of her door and descended into the driver’s seat. “I’m back now.”
“Oh yeah? I heard Mikey busted himself up really good.” Phil rubbed his chin and leaned against the top of her open door. “He around still?”
“No, he moved home as well.”
“Yeah? Hey, you got a card or something? We can meet up for sushi for old time’s sake.”
“No, sorry. I started a new job recently and don’t have cards yet.”
Phil stood up straight and started to feel around in his own pockets. “Where ya workin’? Another clothing store? You here to scope out the competition?”
“No, I work with the Cars to Work organization.”
Phil froze. “You mean that program headed up by the governor’s son?”
“That’s the one.”
He found a cream-colored card in the rear pocket of his slacks and held it out to her. She palmed it without reading, intending to toss it as soon as she passed a trash receptacle.