The Perfect Man

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Among the new experiences Fletch had discovered with Astrid, getting a blow job in the privacy of his barn was high on his list of favorites. He’d never look at this particular stall the same way again.

  But the ecstasy he’d enjoyed in the barn was short-lived. As they walked back to the house, arms around each other, cozy as could be, he asked her what she wanted him to cook for dinner.

  “I should probably go home.”

  The joy seeped right out of him. “Why?”

  She laughed. “Because I live there.”

  “I know, but you could spend the night here and I’ll drive you back in the morning. We can leave as early as you want.”

  Even though she’d alluded to coming back to visit him on Sundays, that was a week away, and so much could happen in a week. She could change her mind, for example. He didn’t want her to leave yet. One more night in his bed would solidify their relationship a little more.

  “I’m tempted to stay.” She snuggled closer as they reached the steps leading up to his front door. “But tomorrow will be crazy. I’ll have to rent a vehicle, cancel the appointments I can’t keep, get the insurance paperwork rolling, order new sup—”

  “I have a truck you can borrow. In fact, you can take mine and I’ll drive the clunker until you get wheels.” Wow, was he a genius or what? Loaning her his truck would keep them connected.

  “That’s extremely generous, Fletch, but there’s a small problem. My driver’s license is somewhere downstream.”

  “Oh. Right. You’ll need someone to take you down to the DMV tomorrow. If you need—”

  “I’ll ask my friend Melanie to take me. She can also drop me off at the rental place later.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to borrow my truck instead?” It was a last-ditch effort, and he knew she didn’t really need the truck. Her insurance would cover a rental.

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I just need a ride home. I hate to make you go all the way to my clinic and back, especially because you’ll have to take the long route, but I don’t have much choice.”

  “I don’t mind.” He turned her to face him. “But I sure wish you’d stay tonight. You won’t be able to accomplish anything until tomorrow morning, anyway. Like I said, I’ll take you back nice and early. Nobody has to be the wiser.”

  She sighed. “I realize that, but I still think it’s better if you take me back now.”

  “Why? Who will know when you pull in?”

  “Me.”

  He blew out a breath. “I’m beginning to understand. If you leave now, you can explain your activities with a clear conscience.”

  “Exactly. I’ll make the obligatory calls to family and friends tonight. I’ll say it took a while for me to recover from almost drowning, which is true. Then you drove me home. I won’t be telling the whole truth, but I won’t be lying, either. If I stay tonight . . . well, I can’t make those calls, and explaining where I’ve been all this time would be . . . awkward.”

  “I take it you’ll have to do some explaining?” He wondered who she answered to. Her parents? Another man? His gut clenched. “Astrid, if there’s a guy in the picture, I deserve to know that.”

  “No guy. Just friends and family.”

  “And they would disapprove of you spending the night with me?”

  She didn’t answer right away. “Maybe,” she said at last. “In any case, you said yourself that this is our business. That’s why you didn’t tell Herman I was coming back home with you, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” He’d wanted to protect their privacy then, when everything was new and tenuous. He hadn’t been sure how things would go between them. But they’d had a terrific time, both in and out of bed, and now he didn’t care who knew they were involved.

  But she did. Although that might have to do with him being a client, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that her caution stemmed from something else. If he kept probing, he might find out, and he might not like it.

  Pushing the matter now didn’t seem like a good idea. They’d had some good times, and now she wanted to leave. He had to let her go and hope that when they met again, they’d be on the same footing as they had been today.

  He released her. “Guess I’d better get the keys and a couple of rags. The seat’s still a mess.”

  * * *

  The ride back to her clinic and the apartment she’d had the contractor build above it was largely silent. Fletch wasn’t happy with her decision to keep their relationship secret, and she didn’t blame him. He’d saved her from drowning, and something that dramatic eliminated any vet-client barriers between them. No one would condemn them for forging a bond over that life-threatening episode.

  Consequently, she couldn’t trot out that excuse anymore, which left her with no obvious reason to conceal her liaison with Fletcher Grayson. She’d boxed herself into a corner and wasn’t sure how to get out without causing pain for both of them. She could deal with her own pain, but she hated the idea of inflicting it on him.

  For six months she’d allowed him to believe that she was a struggling veterinarian much as he was a struggling horse breeder. Now that they’d become lovers, she didn’t know how to tell him that she was the daughter of one of the richest families in Dallas. Or that her parents wouldn’t be overjoyed that she was seeing a rancher who operated on a slim margin of profit.

  She could imagine the conversation she’d have with her parents. Her mother would advise her to end the relationship before things got sticky. Her father, an overbearing man who assumed he ruled the world, might take it upon himself to pay Fletch a visit to explain why he should give up this romance. Medieval though the gesture might be, her father was capable of offering Fletch money to stay away from his daughter.

  She shuddered at the indignities Fletch might endure because of her. He had no idea, and that was entirely her fault. She wanted to protect him, at least until she figured out what she was going to do. Somehow, some way, she had to tell him the truth about her background, and she didn’t know how on earth she’d do that.

  When he pulled up in front of the clinic, a light shone from her upstairs apartment. She’d put a lamp on a timer so that she wouldn’t walk into darkness. That lamp was a Tiffany style that probably cost more than Fletch cleared in a month.

  The rest of her furniture was equally pricey. But common courtesy dictated that she should invite him to come up, and she just had to hope he didn’t notice that she was surrounded by expensive items. The apartment was relatively small, so maybe he wouldn’t think much about what was in it.

  She’d grown up with nice things, and had been taught to have expensive taste. She hadn’t thought twice about buying a high-quality sofa and chairs, along with a gorgeous cherry dining set. The art on her walls was original, and her china Wedgwood and her glassware Baccarat.

  As she led Fletch up the interior stairway to her apartment, she told herself that guys usually didn’t notice such things, especially if they weren’t used to seeing them. Last year she’d dated a commodities trader with a hefty bank account, and he’d commented on everything in her apartment. Then he’d proven that although he knew how to make money, he had no clue how to make love.

  Astrid’s mother and father had heartily approved of the commodities trader, who’d kissed like an oxygen-deprived trout and had cold hands and a scrawny chest. All the money in the world wouldn’t make up for that combination in her bed on a chilly winter night. She’d said as much to her mother, who had promised to help her find a billionaire who was a good kisser, had warm hands, and sported a manly chest.

  Meanwhile Astrid had discovered a rancher who had all those attributes and even more important ones—like compassion and honesty. He was only minus the hefty bank account, so her parents would assume he was after her money. Acceptance would be very slow in coming, if it ever came at all. Meanwhile Fletch would be
subjected to scrutiny he didn’t deserve.

  “I’ll make us some coffee,” she said as she topped the stairs. “And I have some shrimp in the refrigerator, and some leftover risotto. We could make a quick meal out of that.”

  “Fancy eats.” He climbed the stairs behind her, his boots noisy on the wooden steps. “But you don’t have to feed me. Coffee’s fine. I could use a little caffeine for the drive back.”

  This was the point at which she should invite him to stay, but if she did that, her plan to call friends and family tonight would go out the window. And she’d be forced to disguise her behavior even more.

  “At least stay for some food,” she said. “You fixed me brunch, so let me offer you a little dinner.” She walked into the apartment, flicking on lights as she went. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Maybe you should just give me coffee.”

  His tone suggested she might want to take stock of the situation. He stood in her small living area, feet planted, his Stetson shading his eyes, his hands at his sides. He looked tense.

  She had a good idea what was bothering him, but she asked him anyway. “Why not stay for some dinner?”

  His chest heaved. “We’re alone in this apartment. I don’t have my hands on the wheel, so I want them to be on you.”

  Heat washed over her. “I don’t have any . . . I’m not prepared with . . .”

  His laugh was rough with desire. “You think I left that to chance?”

  “No, I guess you wouldn’t.” She swallowed. If she brought a real man into this apartment, she could expect that he’d act like one, with no hesitation whatsoever. That thrilled her right down to her toes.

  “So the way I see it, we have two choices. You can make some coffee and I’ll pretend that I’m not thinking of stripping you naked and taking you on the first available surface, or you can heat up the shrimp and risotto, and we’ll settle in for the night. Up to you.”

  “Or . . .” She walked around the sofa to stand in front of him. “You can strip me naked and take me on the first available surface, and we can have shrimp and risotto later.”

  With a groan, he swept her up in his arms with such force that his hat tumbled to the floor. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “First door on the right.” Once again, she was being carried to bed, and she was growing fond of the custom. A night-light from the attached bath filtered in just enough that he could find the bed without stumbling.

  He didn’t toss her down this time. He laid her on the comforter with great care. She sensed that he wouldn’t be as reckless when it wasn’t his house.

  Then he undressed her slowly, interspersing the process with many kisses. He did it well, but then, he knew the territory and he knew the clothes. He’d laundered them himself earlier today.

  When he was finished, he stood and made short work of removing his own clothes, but not before he fished a condom out of his jeans pocket.

  As the wrapping crinkled, she couldn’t help laughing. “And I thought you went to fetch your keys and cleaning rags.”

  “A condom doesn’t take up much room in a guy’s pocket.” The latex snapped as he sheathed himself. “And tucking one in there for good measure is never a bad idea.”

  “No.” She opened her arms and welcomed him. “It’s not.” And then he was there, filling her the way only Fletch could do. His warm body covered hers, and she wondered how she’d ever imagined sending him away with nothing more than a cup of coffee.

  He settled into the sweet rhythm they’d discovered worked for them, and she rose to meet him as glorious tension filled her with anticipation. For this, she would risk most anything. But she didn’t want to risk Fletch’s pride.

  His breath warmed her ear as he thrust deep. “Way better than coffee.”

  “Yes.” She arched into his embrace. “Way better.” And she came with such abandon that she surprised herself with her wild cries.

  “I like that,” he said, breathing hard. “I like when you go a little crazy. It makes me . . . go crazy . . . too . . .” Pumping fast, he found his orgasmic bliss and cried out as he shuddered against her.

  She held him fast for long moments after that and wondered how she’d ever imagined they would not make love here. The passion between them ran too deep. Besides, Fletch had a need to position himself in her world, and this was an obvious way to do it.

  That need worried her, because it would put him on a collision course with reality. She had to find a way to tell him about the money, the incredible wealth, but she wouldn’t come out looking very good during that confession. She wanted to keep his good opinion of her, and that seemed impossible.

  So she put off the telling and fed him shrimp and risotto, along with good strong coffee, and sent him back to the ranch with many lingering kisses. The sex and the food seemed to have distracted him from his surroundings, and she gave thanks for that.

  When his truck pulled away, she watched from her second-story window as the red taillights disappeared. Then she crossed to her landline phone, speed-dialed her mother, and prepared to give a very edited version of her weekend.

  Eight

  Astrid had known from the minute she called Melanie to beg for some chauffeur service that she’d spill her guts about Fletch. Melanie Shaw was one of Astrid’s two best friends in the world, the other being Valerie Wolitzky. They’d joined the same sorority in college, and because they were all only children, they’d bonded like the true sisters they’d each always wished for.

  Their personalities complemented each other and they became inseparable. Big-hearted Melanie, with wide gray eyes and hair she described as plain brown, was the nurturer in the group. Astrid was the driven one, out to prove that she was more than a rich socialite, while redheaded Val was the brain who’d gone on to law school.

  After graduation they’d all remained in the Dallas area, which meant they could continue to see one another often. Melanie had grown up on a small ranch and continued to work for her dad, but she’d recently become engaged to billionaire Drew Eldridge. Melanie was the perfect person to give advice about how to navigate financial inequality in a relationship.

  “Maybe your rancher guy would be fine knowing you’re rich,” Melanie said as they waited their turn at the DMV.

  “Maybe. But I wish I’d told him in the beginning.” Astrid sighed. “I didn’t, though. In fact, I took pains to disguise it. I’m afraid that if I tell him now, I’ll seem dishonest.”

  “You have to tell him, though.” Melanie’s gray eyes filled with compassion. “I know it won’t be easy, but if you really like him . . .”

  “I really like him.”

  Melanie smiled. “You should see how you light up when you say that. In all the years I’ve known you, I haven’t seen that expression when you talked about a guy. I’m excited for you.”

  “My parents won’t be. So let’s say I manage to admit I’m wealthy without driving him away. You know what comes next. I have to introduce him to my mom and dad.”

  “But he’s a hero, right? He saved you! They must want to meet him.”

  “Oh, they do. They want to give him money. He’d be so insulted. Before I take him over there, I have to convince them not to do that, or it will be a complete disaster.”

  “I agree.” Melanie nodded. “Ixnay on the oneymay.”

  “As I said, they’re excited to meet him, but as my rescuer. If I introduce him as my boyfriend, they’ll roll up the red carpet immediately.”

  “Okay, I know something about this scenario. Drew’s parents weren’t thrilled with our engagement, either. But here’s the bonus. Drew stood strong in the face of their disapproval. If I hadn’t been in love with him before, I would have fallen like a ton of bricks when he proudly told his mother and father that he was the luckiest guy in the world to have me as a fiancée. Because he really feels that way, his folks are comin
g around.”

  Astrid thought about that. “It’s a good point. I guess they mostly want me to be happy.”

  “That’s right, and when you demonstrate how happy Fletch makes you, and they get to know him and realize he’s not after your money, everything will be okay.”

  “I hope so. I swear, if my father makes one snide remark—”

  “Don’t let him get away with that. Be strong.” Her gaze was steady. “It’s your life.”

  Astrid regarded her friend with new respect. “That trip to Paris stiffened your spine, didn’t it, girlfriend?”

  “It did. I wish you and Val had gone like we’d planned, but—”

  “Then you wouldn’t have discovered your own strength, or met Drew. It worked out the way it was meant to.”

  “And this will, too.”

  Astrid groaned. “I still don’t know how to tell him I’m wealthy. And after I do, even if he seems okay with it, will there be awkwardness?”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, in your case, you can just move into Drew’s elegant home. If Fletch and I decide to be together, then how do we handle the fact that I’m used to pricier digs than he is?”

  “I do like Drew’s home and I was happy to move there. But how do you want to handle it?”

  Astrid thought about Fletch’s house—the simple lines, the rock fireplace, and especially his big bed. She smiled as the truth dawned. “I could be very happy in his house. Sure, I have expensive furniture, but I don’t need expensive furniture. It’s more habit than anything.”

  Melanie laughed. “I know. You’ve never been a snob. I can’t imagine why you’re worried about different lifestyles. You live way below your means. Your parents don’t, but who cares? It’s your—”

  “It’s my life. I get it. I get it!”

  “Yay! Problem solved! The two of you can have a blast shopping at big-box furniture stores.”

  Astrid winced. “Maybe not.”

  “Okay, estate sales, then.”

  “That’s more like it. But there’s something else. He operates on a very slim profit margin. Sometimes he goes without one thing so he can afford another. I could change all that, and I’d want to help him prosper, but how will he feel about accepting money from me?”