I laughed shortly, stepping down from the back to grab Percy’s suitcase and walk it over to curbside check-in. “You are a far more optimistic man than me, sir.”
“This is just how Delaney is, son. She’s over there plotting and formulating a plan before she makes her move.”
“Is that what she’s doing?” I hadn’t spoken to her outside of the context of business all week.
“Have patience, Beauregard. She’s worth it,” he reassured me.
“Yes, sir. Merci beaucoup. I appreciate you coming in. Please tell Dalton, Davis, Loren, and Tina hello for me. I know it wasn’t easy for them to turn you loose on Father’s Day.”
“I was glad to get away from that crew for a second. Always crowding around, double-checking that I haven’t dropped dead—it can wear on a man.”
I held back my chuckle. “No doubt.”
“Plus, I wanted to see my baby girl in action. That was some show you two put on the other day.” His eyes sparkled.
I grinned. “We gotta give the media something to talk about.”
He gave me an astute look. “You keep telling yourself that was all for the cameras.” He turned and waved at Roman.
“You send my regards to your wife and son, ya hear?”
“Yes, sir,” Roman called out through the window.
Percy clapped a hand on my shoulder and brought me in close for a quick hug. “It’ll all work out. I have faith in both of you.” He stepped back and pulled out his ticket to hand to the attendant. “Don’t be a stranger and tell that sister of yours to slow down. She doesn’t have to race through life; it comes at you no matter what. Ha-ha!”
“I’ll let her know. You called Belle to tell her you were leaving?” I watched as the skycap checked him in and took his bags.
“We had us a good chat; don’t fret none. Oh, I sent you a friend request on the Facebook. Don’t leave me hanging, son. Percy out!” Mr. Richards headed into the terminal.
With a final wave, I climbed into the passenger seat of Roman’s car. “You know, the thought of him and Pops hanging out on a regular basis is more than a little scary.”
“Imagine the trouble those two could get into chattin’ it up on ‘the Facebook’ together?” Roman drawled.
“Terrifiant.” Terrifying.
“So where to, AB?”
“Home, James,” I teased and leaned back in the seat.
“Look at you, Mr. Maturity. In a real house, with your name on the deed. All the stuff you’ve accumulated over the years finally out of storage and on display.”
“Shut it, Montgomery.”
“I can’t even get a jab in that you bought a house less than ten minutes away from mine? It kind of warms my heart from the inside out.”
“You done?” I rolled my eyes.
“I’m done.” He snickered.
“Okay then.” I leaned back against the head rest and closed my eyes. It had been a hell of a week. The show and then the endless interviews, all with the camera crew following us around. In the midst of all that, I found I couldn’t be around Belle without wanting to either throw an epic tantrum or strip her naked while I worked that tight body into submission. Neither one seemed like a good idea, so I kept my distance.
“One more thing, though,” Roman added.
“You’re worse than a nagging wife!” I complained.
“How would you know?” he shot back.
“Now that’s just hitting low.”
“Apologies. If you don’t mind my asking . . .”
I heaved a sigh. “You’re going to ask anyway, so go ahead.”
“Don’t you have another show to go to tonight?”
“I could’ve gone to the Arizona Wind show.” I looked at my watch. “It’s wrapping up right about now. She’s the chick who has been stealing Belle’s designs and trying to pass them off as her own. But I’m tired, and Belle can handle it without me.”
“This is how you fight for your woman?” Roman threw a skeptical glance my way.
I had to express amusement. “This from the dude who sat on his back porch in a ripped shirt and sweatpants with Sade on repeat before you and Jewel worked it out?”
“I wasn’t that bad!” Roman protested.
“Man, you were worse. Remember that one whole four-day stretch when you didn’t bathe, didn’t eat, didn’t leave the house? Just sat around moaning, ‘What if we can’t work it out, what if she can’t be what I need? I just love her so much’ over and over again until I wanted to go get her for you. Good Lawd, you were whiny.”
Roman let one side of his mouth tilt up. “I was so far gone over her; still am, I guess.”
“Well, good for you. I’m still trying to get there. So quit sweatin’ a brother, can you please?”
“Look, why don’t you go to the show, give her that look you give.”
“What look?” I had no idea what he was talking about.
“I don’t know. That pretty boy thing that makes women throw their panties at you.”
“Again, pot . . . kettle.” I pointed from him back to myself.
“Hold on, homeboy. My ass is ruggedly handsome; you’re just pretty.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ça suffit! Please tell me you have a point.”
“My point, O Pretty One, is that you want to see her and get the conversation going again? Go get her and seduce her. Women are always more amenable when they are getting done and getting done well.”
“Thank you so much for that nugget of wisdom.” I could’ve gone my whole life through without having this particular chat with my younger brother.
“Hey, there’s nothing like multiple orgasms to facilitate a conversation.”
“Does your wife know you still talk like that?”
“My wife likes what I do with my mouth just fine.”
“That’s nasty, bro; I’m so not trying to hear that out of you.”
“Just sayin’ if you need some tips . . .”
“Mon Dieu, this is what it’s come to? Sex tips from the younger, lesser Montgomery? Thanks but no thanks. I’m good.”
Roman pulled in behind my garage. “Seriously, though, I’m here for you, mon frère.”
We exchanged a brotherly fist bump as I climbed out. “Appreciated. Go home to your woman. I’ll be all right.”
I walked in the house, pulled some leftovers out of the fridge, and turned on the Fashion Television network while I waited for the food to heat in the microwave. I remember the days when I turned on ESPN first, I thought with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Scandal at the Arizona Wind show tonight in Dallas, and we have the scoop for you, right after this!” the commentator touted with a wide grin.
I grabbed the plate along with a fork and a bottle of green tea and headed for the sofa. Three commercials played and then the news show came back on.
“Arizona Marks, once touted as a brilliant mind in cutting-edge fashion was outed this evening for plagiarizing the designs and concept from her former classmate’s, Belle Richards’, fashion line. As many of you know, the fabulously innovative BellaRich show was earlier in the week and showcased not only Ms. Richards’ new menswear line but her new man, Beau Montgomery. Can we say yummilicious?”
I choked on that last bite. “Oh come on, now. Yummi-what? Quelle folie!” How crazy was that?
A snippet of the footage of the two of us stalking each other on the catwalk ran before cutting back to the Arizona Wind show. “Tonight’s show looked eerily familiar, as did some of the designs.” They put pictures up side by side of our BellaRich model and the Arizona Wind model in a similar outfit. “When confronted backstage by Ms. Richards, Arizona attempted to claim that Belle had stolen ideas from her for years. That theory fell apart when Ms. Richards revealed her original designs along with a decoy design she put together precisely for the purpose of catching Ms. Marks in the act. When asked to produce her original designs, Arizona quite frankly . . . ran out of wind.
“No word yet as to whether the
BellaRich camp will seek legal and financial damages but stay tuned, big things are happening in Big D.” The show went to commercial.
“So what do you think? Should we sue her for every penny she’s got?” Belle said from inside the foyer. She wore a silver mini-dress that clung to every glorious inch of her curves. On her feet, she wore hot pink stilettos with roses across the back of the heel. Completely impractical and totally hot.
“So it was Irena, the assistant in garment construction, who was leaking the designs?” I asked.
“Yep, but she was scared to send the actual designs so she redrew them from memory.”
“That explains the half-assed copy job and lack of detailing.”
“That explains it.” She nodded.
“So, all’s well that ends well?”
“Are we still talking about the designs?”
I set my half-empty plate on the coffee table and leaned back with my hands fisted at my sides to keep from grabbing her. On the one hand, I was happy to see her. On the other hand, I didn’t know what it meant in the overall scheme of things. I guessed there was only one way to find out.
31
That Was Beau Laying It All on the Line
Belle—9:01 PM that same night
Beau’s voice sounded slightly hoarse when he asked, “How did you get in?”
I twirled the key around my finger with a false bravado I didn’t feel. “Daddy gave me the key when he said good-bye earlier.”
“What are you doing here?” he continued in that same impersonal and measured tone.
“Why wouldn’t I be here? You said we were okay. If we’re okay and we love each other, then I want to see my man.”
He crossed his arms across his chest and looked across the dark room at me. “Vraiment?”
“Yes, really.” I stepped into the living room and prowled across the marble floor to him. “And another thing . . .” I paused to gauge his reaction.
“Un autre chose?” he repeated in French.
“I missed you,” I said softly, kicking off my shoes, tossing my purse on the coffee table, and climbing into his lap. I straddled him so that my thighs were on the outside of his and then I shifted forward. He unfolded his arms and set them on my thighs.
“Did you?” He still looked wary and slightly bored.
“More than you know. I’ve grown accustomed to having my Beau twenty-four seven. I miss Breakfast Beau and Ride to Work Beau. I miss Laughing at Work Beau and Working Out at the Gym Beau. I miss Watching Television Beau and Fresh Out of the Shower Beau. I miss talking to you and bickering with you.”
“Hmm.” He no longer looked bored.
“I’ll admit it. You have me hooked. I miss these lips.” I traced his lips with my tongue. “I miss these broad shoulders to lean on.” I rested my head on his shoulder and bit his neck. “I miss this chest to cuddle up against.” I brushed my chest against his. “I miss these powerful thighs.” I shifted on top of those thighs. “I miss these hands. Holding me, touching me, stroking me.” I took his hands and drew them across my aching nipples, down my torso, and up my thighs. His hands slid the rest of the way up my thighs to cup my ass. He gasped at what he found.
“Mademoiselle Richards! Have you been running around all night without any panties on?” He grasped the back of my thighs to part them wider and stroked through my moisture with his thumb. “Answer me.”
I didn’t know what it was about him that turned me into a needy, mewling sex kitten with just one touch, but I loved it. I loved him. “No. I had them on earlier. I took them off when I decided to come here. To you.”
“You are soaking wet and so hot, it’s ridiculous,” he hissed, continuing to stroke me.
“You make me that way. The mere thought of seeing you tonight, hoping you wanted to see me, and I got all humid.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to see you?” he murmured in a confused tone.
I had to pull his hands away for a second. “Wait, I can’t concentrate when you touch me like that.”
He rested his hands on my knees. “I said, why wouldn’t I want to see you?”
I gave a little shoulder wiggle. “You’re mad at me.”
He took my chin in his hand and tilted it so my eyes met his. “I’m not mad at you. I’m hurt you don’t want to be what I want, what I need. I’m hurt you don’t trust me. I’m hurt, Belle.”
Whoa. That was Beau laying it all on the line. I couldn’t help but reciprocate. “Just give me a little time to get there. You have to understand, sugar. I thought I was coming down to Dallas to launch this line, hand it over to somebody, and head back up to New York. I didn’t plan or want to meet anyone. When I met you, I was sure that we’d have a short, hot fling and walk away from each other. Then you were so freakin’ smart about my designs, and then with my dad and my family you were so damn wonderful and caring. You snuck up on me, Beau. So maybe I started thinking if I’m having trouble making the mental leap, maybe you are, too.
“But after talking to my dad and your mom—”
“Madere? When did you talk to her?”
“We talked on Sunday, when you sent me to family dinner to face the music by myself.” I slanted a pointed look at him.
He sent me one right back. “Ah yes, Sunday. A hard day for all of us.”
I inclined my head in acknowledgment. “Anyway, after talking to my dad, your mom, Katrina, and Yazlyn, I realized something.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re serious. When you said you were all in . . . you meant it.”
“Mais oui, I’ve never lied to you.”
“Remember when I asked you to be patient with me?”
“I do.”
“Well, I’m calling in that favor now.” I leaned against him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Please darlin’, don’t give up on me.”
He tightened his arms around me and squeezed. “If you’re asking me not to let you go, I won’t let go.”
“Don’t let go.”
“Entendu!”
“Which means . . .”
“Done!”
“So we’re good for now?”
“For now, Mirabella.”
“Understood.” I reached for his hands and put them back on my thighs. “Put your hands on me, Beauregard.”
“Avec plaisir.” His hands slid to the juncture of my thighs to tease and play, and I knew I wasn’t in the mood for foreplay.
I unzipped his jeans, reached in, and lifted his length out to pulse in my palm. “Hello, my lovely friend, I have missed you so.”
He literally guffawed. “Woman, are you whispering to my dick?”
“Yes. I was afraid he was gone forever.”
“You realize it hasn’t even been a week, right?”
“What can I say? You’ve created a monster. I don’t want to go without. I have needs.” I reached behind me, opened my purse, and snatched a condom out. “Shift down a little.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll have to make sure I can accommodate these needs of yours.” He looked amused and tolerant as I struggled with the logistics of moving his clothing out of the way and sheathing his length with as much speed and efficiency as I could muster. “Chérie, are we in a hurry?”
“Yes, yes we are.” Without further ado, I crawled back into place and sunk down on him and arched to take him all in one hot liquid slide.
“Oooooh,” we both said at the same time.
“So then.” His eyes turned copper and his voice turned gravelly. “No foreplay?”
“No, thank you,” I hissed as I rose up and slid back down. I moaned low in my throat and threw my head back. “Beau?”
He ground his hips up in a tight circle. “Yeah babe?”
“Quick and dirty, okay?”
“Ce que tu veux.” He put his hands on my hips and sped up the tempo.
“I can’t think in French when you do that! God, you’re hitting my spot.”
“I said, whatever you want.”
“I li
ke that,” I hissed out as his strokes went deeper.
He did some sort of crazy motion where he corkscrewed his hips and bounced me on top of him at the same time. “What about that? You like that?’
I had to take a second to whip the dress over my head. I tossed it away. I was on fire from the inside out. “You know I do.”
“But do you love it?” He seemed to reach deeper with every thrust, sending already sizzling nerve endings into full blaze.
“I love it,” I whimpered, racing toward an epic climax. “I love you.”
“Damn right you do. Je t’aime aussi mon cæur, je t’aime aussi.”
I lost the rhythm as the wave hit me by surprise. Shrieking, I grabbed his head and held it to me as I ground against him taking what I needed. As the last tremors fluttered through me, he drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. I went over again.
He joined me with a long moan, holding me open while we crested together.
I stayed on top of him as he rocked me gently in the aftermath. “Babe.”
“Hmm?” he responded.
“We’re getting rid of this white sofa.” The sofa, while gorgeous, was not practical. It would not maintain its pristine appearance for much longer at the rate we were going.
“Not one of my best ideas.”
“We’re way too freaky for white furniture.”
“Excellent point. Does this mean you’re moving in?”
“Or camping out if you don’t want me to stay. I have some stuff in the car.”
“As soon as my legs work again, I’ll help you bring it in.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. You’re home.”
I relaxed and nestled my head against his shoulder. I was home.
32
I Think There’s Rain in the Forecast
Beau—Wednesday, October 6, 3:41 PM (four months later)
I glanced at my watch. We had one more hour until the buyers’ showcase wrapped at our temporary showroom in Market Hall. This was an opportunity for buyers and store representatives who hadn’t already placed preorders for the spring line to come in, see the clothing, and order. The place had been a madhouse all day.
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