So Into You

by Sahara Kelly

  Loving, Losing and Strokes of Charcoal. Sketches by "P" and comments by "C".

  And there she was.

  Casey.

  It was a drawing he loved; she stood next to a window in their employee café, cradling a cup of coffee in both hands as she stared outside. He'd caught a little bit of that vulnerability that day, he realized as he looked at it all over again. Her eyes were focused on some place only she could see and wherever it was, she had lost herself there.

  Then he read the caption.

  He sees me, sees inside me. How could he know, this man who was only my friend that day? How did he discover that beneath my carefully applied polish lies a frightened child?

  And so it went on. More office sketches, one of Casey at a meeting, standing before a presentation board.

  I knew he wasn't paying attention to the material. But truthfully I didn't mind. I have realized that his focus on me warmed me and gave me strength I didn't know I needed. But sadly, sometimes knowledge arrives too late.

  She'd commented on many of his sketches, sometimes just a brief where and when, and then there were others. Like the fanciful illustration he'd done of her as a fairy queen in a garden with birds and flowers.

  If only my life could be like this. If only I could be like this. He offered me sunlight in his garden and I, in my stupidity, turned him down and laughed at his gifts. How foolish are those who believe they have nothing to lose.

  The drawings became more sensual, the curve of her breast, the soft rise of her hips as she lay on her side. And to each she had added her thoughts.

  My body. To see it as someone else sees it is…strange. But to see it through the eyes of a man who loves me? That is a miracle I cannot describe. I am blessed in that at least I have these memories to warm me.

  A nude, from the back, her buttocks ripe and curved, one leg slightly bent, inviting strong arms to enfold her. Phil's had done just that. He gulped then read her words.

  His touch inflamed me like no other. He knew how to make me burn and scream and let go. And when he spoke to me, held me close and urged me down the road to bliss with his hands, his mouth, his body—I was lost. We were one in those moments and the memories are as fresh today as they were that night. I will always carry them—and him—in my heart.

  Phil held his breath as he came to the last page of their section. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, which sketch they would have chosen for the final one. And he was right.

  Lying on her side, Casey was naked, barely covered by the rumpled sheet of the bed in which she lay. Her hair was tangled, her breasts soft and lax, and her face clearly showing the sated pleasure she'd just experienced. It was sexual, sensual and passionate without being overt.

  He felt it was the best thing he'd ever done and he looked at it with yearning and an ache he couldn't deny.

  I loved him. I love him still. I think it's the forever kind of love because I didn't even know it was there until it was gone. Sometimes love hits you like a brick, quick, bright, painful and over. But other times it slowly fills you up until you don't question why you're smiling, you just do. That's how it was in this sketch. I was happy, relaxed and content. And although I hadn't realized it, I was in love. He banished my fears, held my hand and led me to the place where I could be the woman you see.

  Phil couldn't help himself. His eyes stung as he re-read her words and looked again at the image. He'd packed his sketchbook and hadn't opened it in almost six months.

  The final comment arrowed straight to his gut.

  If he ever reads this, I hope he'll understand now that his friendship was appreciated, his touch desired and his heart—loved. He is the best man I've ever met, and I guess I didn't deserve him. Be well my dear. And know I will always be so into you…

  He sat there and ignored the world, letting his calls go to voice mail and barely hearing the ping of incoming emails. His head spun and his pulse thudded as he let the memories of Casey sweep over him.

  He'd tried to push her away, mentally. To tell himself they were done, over. That she might even be married by now.

  He'd asked a couple of women out on dates, but hadn't really enjoyed it. They'd been nice, but there was no spark, no heat. They weren't Casey. Once or twice he'd fancied he'd seen her—at the local mall he'd actually followed a woman for a few minutes before her child ran up to her.

  That's when he realized he was back to being obsessed and made himself a promise. No more pining or yearning. To him, Casey was officially dead. As dead as Dominic.

  No, that wouldn't work.

  Running his hand through his hair, Phil sighed and closed the book. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor as he rose and he reached down, catching it before it landed.

  "Dear Mr. Cooper," he read. "Here is a galley proof of the book containing your art. We hope you like it, since we have great hopes for its success. Also, as a friend of Ms. Casey Andrews, I think you should know she is not herself these days and very much regrets whatever it was that occurred a few months ago. I won't interfere, but it pains me to see my friend so unhappy. Perhaps you might know of something that can be done to fix that situation. With best regards, D. Palmer, Agent, Paintbrush Publishing."

  So she was unhappy, huh? Phil considered those words.

  He almost missed the quiet tap on his door until it was repeated.

  "It's open. C'mon in."

  He was still reading the note again as the door opened, then closed. And a voice broke the silence.

  "Hi Phil."

  *~*~*~*

  She'd read the expression "heart in her throat" many times in many romance novels, but never realized the truth of it until she stepped into Phil's office and he turned to look at her.

  She couldn't catch her breath, her ears thrummed with her own pulse and for a moment Casey wondered if she was going to faint.

  Then the look of astonishment gave way to the heat she remembered and he was in front of her before she could blink.

  "Casey." His hands ran from her shoulders down her arms and back up again.

  "Yes." She couldn't drag her gaze away from his face. "It's me."

  "Oh God. I…" He looked at her, then roughly pulled her against his chest and kissed her.

  It was harsh, hungry, tongues and lips and teeth clashing and dueling, and exactly what Casey had yearned for.

  She gave back everything and then some, sucking on his tongue, clutching at any part of his body she could reach. Her bag fell to the floor, her hands slid over his pants and she realized she had a handful of his ass just as he grabbed hers.

  Her leg lifted instinctively to his hip. "Phil, Jesus. I've missed you so very much. I was such a fool."

  "Shhh." His hands slipped further upward and he caressed her body. Her followed her curves and raised her head with his finger on her chin. "You're real. You're here."

  The phone rang, jolting them out of the sexual haze enveloping them.

  "Crap." He ignored it, letting it go to voicemail. But the damage was done.

  She nearly sobbed. "Phil." Her hands went to hold him. "Phil." It was the only word she could manage.

  "Yeah, I know." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Take a breath. We have to talk."

  She straightened her clothing, sighed and then chuckled a little. "Usually men hate that phrase." She gestured at the book. "You saw it, then."

  He nodded, adjusting himself and wincing. "It's beautiful."

  "Your sketches make it exquisite."

  "Your captions make them come to life."

  They smiled at each other.

  Casey looked at him, refreshing her mind with his image right there, in front of her. He looked the same, his hair a bit messed, his mouth with the smile lines just beginning to etch his happy personality into his face.

  "God, I don't know what to say to you."

  He held up a hand. "Before you say anything, I have to ask. I heard you had a visitor from the past. Dominic?"

  She shrugged her shoulders. "Y
ou'll laugh. He never died, of course. He fell off the mountain, recovered, assumed a new identity—and married his lover." She paused dramatically. "Keith."

  Phil opened his mouth. Then shut it again. Then opened it. "Um, Keith? As in…man named Keith?"

  "Yep."

  "Oh. So Dominic was…er…is… "

  "Gay? Yes. Although I understand most people come out of a closet not a mountain ravine."

  "Ah." He pondered that for a moment. "Well then."

  She bit her lip and then gave up, her grin turning into a laugh. "Yeah. That was pretty much my reaction too."

  He leaned his butt on the desk and folded his arms. "So you're here. You, and the book. Would it be safe to say that you wanted to see me?"

  "I wondered if I could get you something? A muffin? Hot chocolate? I remember you don't drink coffee." She peeked at him from beneath her eyelashes. "There must be some binoculars here somewhere."

  "Hmm." He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  "Phil, I'm lost without you." She dropped her coy flirtation. "I did something so frickin' stupid that I'm afraid it may have cost me the best thing that ever came into my life. You."

  He stood and walked to her. "It almost did. I was more hurt then anything. But I've been as miserable as hell not seeing you."

  She put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh of contentment. For the first time in months she was happy.

  "I'm so glad you're here." His breath dusted her cheek.

  "Think we can make a go of it? I so want to try."

  She felt him nod. "Me too, more then you know. Because we have something real powerful going for us, Casey."

  "We do? What?"

  He hugged her tight and she heard the laughter in his voice. "I'll show you. In about fifteen minutes, when we get to my apartment. That's when I'll be so into you…"

  THE END

  About the Authors

  S.L. Carpenter and Sahara Kelly began their writing collaboration a decade ago. It was unexpected, since they live about as far away from each other as it's possible to get in the USA without getting your feet wet. But it worked.

  Since then, they've explored a wide and colorful variety of subjects, and written stories that entertain, amuse, and sometimes astound their readers. One thing will always be a part of their writing—that touch of humor. Sometimes unexpected, sometimes blatant, both S.L. and Sahara believe that laughter is essential, especially when it comes to sex. Because sex is, without a doubt, one of the funniest activities humans engage in on a regular basis. If one excludes salmon-tossing, of course. If you'd like to find out a bit more about these two strangely charming and attractive people (one of whom is writing this paragraph) then you can check the websites below and satisfy your curiosity about their books.

  Both writers suggest you subscribe to their newsletters. They are available without charge, and free is always good. Plus neither will pepper your inbox with incessant political opinions, recipes or pictures of their cats. (Sahara is presently feline-free anyway, and Scott guards his award-winning burger secrets with all the intense security of a Pentagon-level government agency.) Links to said newsletters are also below. And it's worth noting that if you enjoyed the story you just read, you'll absolutely want to subscribe to these newsletters, since they are currently at work on their best-selling series Working Stiffs, and you don't want to miss the latest news or release schedules, do you? We didn't think so!

  Website: S.L. Carpenter

  Where you can find out more about S.L. Carpenter, his books, his art and his off-the-wall observations on life, baseball and rubber chickens. (The fundamental components of happiness—as we all know so well.) He has quite a few single titles available and encourages you to check them out if you haven't already.

  You may subscribe to Scott's newsletter here and his blog here. He loves contests, so don't forget to see if there's one going on at the moment...

  Website: Sahara Kelly

  This is where Sahara Kelly shares none of the intimate details of her life, but will present you with a list of books she'd like you to buy so that she can go do research on a beach in Aruba and be pampered with massages and drinks with umbrellas in them. She'll send you a postcard. Thank you.

  You can get on Sahara's newsletter list here and don't forget to pop over and see what she's blogging about here. It usually has nothing to do with her books. Refreshing, huh?

  *****

  Both authors have individual titles available from All Romance eBooks; there are many in digital format and also in print. Too many to list here, you can find most of these books by searching on their names at ARe.

  *****

  Scott and Sahara would like to mention that they've recently initiated a new collaboration, blending another of their shared passions— art. If you're interested in seeing what they get up to when they're not writing something twistedly hot and sexy, they'd like to invite you to come visit their little Art for Authors and Others business at the link below. They're certainly never bored…

  P and N Graphics, LLC

  Other Titles by S.L. Carpenter and Sahara Kelly

  Working Stiffs Book 1—Hired Help (SK Private Label Publications)

  Working Stiffs Book 2—Open House by Sahara Kelly (SK Private Label Publications)

  Working Stiffs Book 2—Full Service by S.L. Carpenter (Coming Soon)

  Showing Off—(SK Private Label Publications)

  Partners In Passion—Eleanor and Justin (Ellora's Cave)

  Partners In Passion—No Limits (Ellora's Cave)

  Partners In Passion—Pure Sin (Ellora's Cave)

  Detour (Ellora's Cave)

  Lady Luck (Ellora's Cave)

  Coming Attractions (Ellora's Cave)

  Princesses Gone Wild (Decadent Publishing)

  Whispers in the Dark (Decadent Publishing)

  Suite 69 (Samhain Publishing)

  Several of these titles are available in print. Please check either author's website or the publisher.

  SK Private Label Publications is wholly owned by

  Sahara Kelly. Releasing first as digital books for all currently available eReaders, some of these titles will also be heading into print.

  *****

  And now that you have been suitably impressed with our amazing lives and our backlist, not to mention our awesome formatting, it's time to whet your appetite with a brief look at the latest series in progress from S.L. Carpenter and Sahara Kelly.

  *****

  WORKING STIFFS

  (Every woman deserves her own working stiff!!)

  Now available from

  Amazon/Kindle

  Barnes and Noble/Nook

  All Romance eBooks

  Smashwords

  Book One—HIRED HELP

  by

  S.L. Carpenter and Sahara Kelly

  Excerpt

  The light from the hall silhouetted his tall form for a moment and then the door closed, leaving Rose alone in the elegantly decorated suite where huge windows were cloaked with rich velvet drapes against the oncoming night. A crystal table lamp shed its soft light on the muted tones of the thick carpet.

  She strolled to the buffet that lined one wall and gazed at the mass of scented candles, then let her fingers drift over the tasteful selection of high-end glossy magazines, her thoughts still on Mel.

  He's good at his job.

  He spoke little, was as unobtrusive as a shadow, and yet…lately she'd noticed something in his eyes when they met hers.

  He looks at me like he's interested. Like he wants to take my clothes off and check me for bugs. And I think I'd let him. Which is entirely the fault of being celibate for too long.

  Maybe she was imagining it. He'd been by her side, protecting her ever since her husband had been felled by an aneurism and left her in sole control of Jackson Enterprises. Now that she fit the description of incredibly rich widow, she supposed she needed a bodyguard. She had taken over the reins of the business, developed
new campaigns and worked hard on new leads over the past eighteen months. She'd proved herself worthy of the CEO position she'd inherited - but at one hell of a cost.

  To accomplish her goals, she'd sacrificed herself in a variety of ways…no social life, no parties, no adventurous foreign vacations…not even a shopping trip down Fifth Avenue more than once every six months or so. Sometimes she'd had to remind herself to shower. It had been all work, all the time. Deaf to the entreaties of her friends, she'd hunkered down in her office, and only now could she come up for air, breathe, and take a few hours for herself. The work was still there, but she had it running the way she wanted at last, with people she could rely on taking some of the burden from her shoulders.

  Of course, the change in her situation and her new accessibility brought about its own share of problems.

  Not a day passed without a friend approaching her bearing a suggestion. Often it was for a blind date, or occasionally it was the phone number of some businessman they knew who wanted to take her to dinner. Which was all well and good, but not anything Rose was particularly interested in. Even though the last couple of years had been spent in near-hermitlike isolation, she wasn't a fool and had a well-developed streak of practicality.

  She knew she couldn't trust anyone to go out with her as Rose and not Ms. Jackson, rich widow. Doubtless those men existed. But she'd rather be safe than sorry. A woman in her position only gave her trust to those who absolutely earned it. Or to those whose discretion she'd purchased.

  Which had brought her here, to this up-market and discreet hideaway. A place where she was going to rediscover a side of herself she'd buried and damn near forgotten about.

  A place where she intended to let a man take her body and pleasure it, use his skills to bring her joy, excitement and - she hoped - at least one eye-rolling, scream inducing, stress releasing, toe-curling orgasm. Maybe even two.

  Yep. Rose blinked at her reflection in the fancy mirror over the buffet, not seeing the elegant and slender brunette with the blue-green eyes, but the daring lass with Irish blood in her veins, who'd gone out on a limb and worked her way to this moment.