by Chanta Rand
Charly followed Dane to Ninfa’s Mexican Restaurant, one of her favorite places to eat. It was hard to focus on her steak fajitas with him sitting across from her, devouring her with his eyes. The fact that he was less than five feet away was so surreal. It had been over six weeks since she’d returned from the Maldives. She’d thought of him often. His rugged good looks. Thick dark hair. Dazzling emerald eyes. There were lonely nights when just remembering their erotic romps made her so horny, she couldn’t resist touching herself. But masturbating could never duplicate the feel of Dane’s thick fingers pushing deep inside her pussy. Or his long dick bringing her to orgasm. She clenched her legs together beneath the table. Yeah, she’d missed him something fierce!
Her eyes roamed his physique, taking in the snug t-shirt that hung loose over his jeans. She could still make out the definition of his pecs. Oh, how well she remembered that washboard stomach. Dane was in fantastic shape–and he had the energy level to match. She sipped her glass of ice water, no longer interested in her food. She was hungry for something that would never be served here.
“You never told me why you don’t drink alcohol,” he probed.
In the Maldives, they’d agreed to keep their lives private, but this was the reality of her world; she may as well tell him the awful truth. “Being married to an alcoholic makes you change certain things. We’ve been divorced for over five years, but I have bad memories of him coming home drunk, high and out of control.”
He placed a hand over hers. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know. But still…” He seemed at a loss for words, allowing the warmth of his hand to comfort her.
“It’s kind of like when someone dies and people say, ‘I know how you feel.’ They really don’t unless they’ve been in your shoes.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
Charly thought she detected a note of cynicism, but she brushed it away. Anyone who’d dealt with a traumatic event involving someone they loved dearly had the right to be sarcastic. “What about you?” she asked. “Any skeletons in the closet? Crazy ex-wives? Psycho family?”
He shook his head. “You met my brothers. My folks are normal–whatever that means nowadays. They live in St. Louis in the same house I grew up in. Cayson lives around the corner from them. He’s about the wildest branch on our family tree.”
She realized she knew nothing about him, other than he made her toes curl and her panties wet. Plus, he had a quick sense of humor she liked. “What brought you to Texas?”
“College. Football scholarship.”
“Impressive.”
He shot her a lopsided grin. “I wish I had been. I wasn’t good enough to go pro. But Texas grew on me. I secured a position as a coach, and the rest is history.”
“Hmm. I think you left out a lot along the way, but it’s a start.”
“Your turn.” He squeezed her hand. “I want to know all about you.”
“You truly are a glutton for punishment.”
“How did you become a life skills coach? Most girls want to be a ballerina or a princess when they grow up.”
She laughed. “How sexist! I’ll have you know I wanted to be a firewoman.”
She was sure it was his deep chuckle and not the restaurant’s cold air-conditioning that made her nipples pucker inside her strapless bra. Oh, but he was gorgeous! She’d noticed a few women sneaking glances at him. If only they knew what she knew, they’d probably follow him home.
“Baby, I can’t see you putting out fires, only starting them.”
His heated gaze could melt the ice in her glass. She hoped the desire she felt for him didn’t show on her face. Her fingers itched to touch the day-old stubble on his square jaw. Damn, what was it about Dane that turned her into a heap of liquid flesh?
“I’ve been known to start a few fires, but I’m always careful to extinguish the flames.”
“You left an inferno inside me.” He licked his lips, and her eyes followed the pink point of his tongue before it slipped back inside his mouth. “I don’t mind telling you that I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind, Charly.”
“Great sex has that effect.”
“No, it was more than sex. It was a connection. Did you feel it too?”
“Yes, I did,” she admitted. Vestiges of that old familiar throbbing ebbed inside her panties. She wished they were in his bungalow again, swaying in the massive hemp hammock. She wanted to feel his hands on her again. Feel him inside her one more time. Or two. Or three. She drained her ice water, wishing she could douse her thighs with it instead. There had to be more to her and Dane than just earth-shattering sex. Did she want to find out? She deliberately changed the subject in an attempt to get to know him better.
They spent the next two hours catching up and talking about their lives. Most guys would be turned off by a woman with two teenagers. To his credit, Dane seemed to take it in stride. He congratulated her on being a single mother. Through conversation, she learned he enjoyed working with young people. He coached them for a living. She imagined he would be patient and caring, yet firm–the way a real father should be. She decided not to discuss anything else about her drama with Cruz. Baby steps. She was already revealing enough about herself. Adding Cruz to the mix would be like having Dane drink through a firehose!
When Dane told her about his dogs, Charly winced. She was not a dog lover. The closest relationship she’d had with any animal was walking by the pet store in the mall. Perhaps if he stayed away from her kids and she stayed away from his pets, they might have a chance.
Right! Who am I kidding?
She would take it one day at a time. She didn’t need to label her relationship with Dane. If nothing else, they could heat up the sheets. She took a deep breath, wondering how he would handle her next sentence. “Well, I should let you go. Maybe we can have dinner sometime soon.”
Emerald eyes with lashes thicker than fringe held hers hostage. “Charly, the only thing I’m starving for is you. And I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
Nobody would believe this. Dane hardly believed it himself. Charly hadn’t changed. She was still stunningly beautiful. Still witty. Still able to captivate him like no other woman. In the Maldives, she’d been a mysterious gypsy, in flowing skirts and sundresses. Today, she was a sexy professional. She exuded the confidence of a woman who knew she was the whole package. It was hard watching her talk when all he kept envisioning were those lips on his.
He caressed her hand. He had to make sure she wasn’t a mirage. After Nichole’s death, he thought he’d go crazy. Then, finally he settled into his mind-numbing routine. He had to. It was the only way he could survive emotionally. Feelings led to more pain. Right now, he had to touch Charly to prove she was real.
Their time in the Maldives was the ultimate fantasy. It had been a good idea to keep their lives from each other. Now, the stark reality was creeping up like a foreboding storm. Charly had kids. And not just little kids. Little adults similar to the kids he coached. Dating Charly would mean taking on an instant family. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet. He knew he wanted Charly but he didn’t know if he could handle everything else that came with her.
Selfish bastard.
Yes, I am.
He’d insulated himself from pain for over ten years. Nichole’s death had traumatized him in ways he hadn’t realized until now. Hell, maybe he needed Doctor Pinto after all. He needed someone to convince him that everything would be alright. He grappled with his thoughts. As fearful as he was, this was still the happiest he’d been since Charly had left him months ago in the Maldives. No matter what the danger, he felt he owed it to himself and to her to see if this thing they had was worth exploring. One thing was certain: if they shared nothing else, at least they had chemistry in bed. Physical attraction was half the battle. But was it enough?
Chapter 7
Charly left the restaurant with Dane
on her tail. He insisted on following her home to make sure she made it okay. Men. They were so predictable. She jokingly reminded him that she was already in her first day of kindergarten before he’d left the womb. Six years his senior, she knew perfectly well how to take care of herself. Still, she liked having her very own bodyguard.
When she rolled onto her street, she noticed a strange Impala parked in front of her house. Her heart went into panic mode as she recognized the shape-shifter leaning against the hood. He had the uncanny ability to morph from a man into a monster. A long cigarette hung precariously from thick lips that had told her plenty of lies. Black eyes that never missed an opportunity to hustle bored into her as she drove past and pulled into her driveway. She let out a long breath. Now, the real drama had begun.
Dane sensed the change in Charly’s body language the moment she stepped from her car. The sensual, flirtatious woman he’d had lunch with had turned cool and authoritative. Her brown eyes flashed as she spoke to the slender man leaning against the fender of an old Impala. “What do you want, Cruz?”
Dane recognized the name of Charly’s ex-husband. Cruz might have been a decent-looking fellow when he was younger, but Dane could see how liquor and drugs had ravaged his body. His olive skin appeared jaundiced. He was also in desperate need of a haircut. “Can’t a man visit his kids?” Cruz demanded.
“Sure,” Charly answered, arms stiffly crossed over her chest. “You can see them on their birthdays, Christmas, and Spring Break. And you can come to all of their school events. But since you haven’t done that in years, I’m not sure why you’re here now.”
“See, that’s why I don’t come around. You too mean, woman.”
“No, I’m too smart for your ass. We discussed this over the phone, Cruz. You need to leave—now.”
He stumbled toward her. “I ain’t going nowhere ‘til I see my kids.”
Dane stepped forward, ready to assist Charly. Cruz cut him a glance. His glassed-over eyes had a hard time focusing. Dane knew the signs. This fool was higher than a falsetto note.
Dane warned him. “Why don’t you back off, man?”
“What the–” Cruz stopped in mid-snarl before turning his attention back to Charly. “Who is this pinche pendejo?”
“Stop it!” Charly ordered.
Dane wasn’t fluent in Spanish, but he knew when he was being insulted. He didn’t care who this deadbeat was. He wasn’t letting him get away with disrespecting him and certainly not Charly. “I suggest you do as Charly asks, and leave. Or I’ll personally remove you from this yard.”
Cruz’s facial features contorted in anger. “I’ll leave when I’m good and goddamned ready!” When he lunged forward, reaching for Charly’s arm, Dane jumped in between them. There was no way this dickhead was getting close enough to touch Charly. Fueled by anger and adrenaline, Dane quickly became the aggressor. When Cruz raised his fist, Dane made him regret it; he punched him square in the jaw. Cruz landed flat on his ass. Dane took a defensive stance, fists balled, legs braced, ready to attack Cruz when he got up. But he never did. The man lay sprawled halfway on the sidewalk and halfway in Charly’s front yard.
A scream pierced the air. “Daddy!”
A blur in sneakers and skinny jeans raced past Dane as Cruz writhed on the ground. A pretty teenager, who looked like a blend of Charly and Cruz hovered over her father, sobbing hysterically. Before anyone could move, a young man flew out the front door. “Mom, what the hell happened?”
The two youths flashed Dane an accusing glance. His heart sank. He’d hoped to meet Charly’s kids under better circumstances. Smashing their father’s face in was definitely not a good start.
********
The flashing blue and red lights of the two police cruisers were giving Charly a headache. Did they really need two cop cars at her curb? It was so embarrassing to have the neighbors peeping out their windows to get a glimpse of the drama. Mr. Dalgen, her nosey neighbor who lived across the street, picked that particular time to walk his Doberman. He walked past her yard twice, his bug eyes absorbing every detail of the scene.
Cruz was no better. Howling and holding his jaw. Acting as though Dane had disconnected his freakin’ mandible. She was shocked when one of the officers asked if Cruz wanted to press charges against Dane for assault. At least he had the decency to say no.
Once they were gone, her children were safely in their rooms, and Cruz had been sent away, she and Dane sat in the silence of her den. Not even the cheerful mustard-colored walls and colorful sofa cushions could raise her spirits.
“I’m sorry I got you into this,” she told Dane.
He sat beside her on the sofa, his right arm slung casually over her shoulder. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I lost my cool.”
She shook her head. “You were trying to protect me. I could never ask you to apologize for that.” She shivered against him.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with Cruz alone. I can’t imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
He stroked her cheek. “You would’ve handled it.”
“I’d like to think so, but I don’t know.”
“You’re a strong woman, Charly. That’s what I admire about you. That and your supple lips.”
She was transfixed by those dreamy green eyes. Dane always knew what to say to make her feel special. In the Maldives, he’d been a take-charge lover. Without the trappings of paradise, she could see his confidence extended beyond the bedroom. He liked to be in control. She realized she wanted him to be in control right now. She wanted to feel the power of his touch.
As if pulled by some magnetic force, they both leaned in at the same time, tentatively fusing their lips together. Charly almost whimpered with pleasure. It was obvious their attraction for each other had not waned in the months they’d been apart. His mouth felt so familiar and welcoming. She was transported back to the nights in Maldives when they lay in each other’s arms lazily exploring each other’s bodies. She could go on kissing him forever, enjoying the hedonistic feel of his tongue wrapped around hers. She placed a hand on his chest, itching to go further, wanting to release the tension coiled between her legs.
An abrupt clearing of a throat in the distance made her pull away quicker than a zipper being ripped apart. She turned to find Diego standing at the entrance of the den, a reproachful smirk etched on his face. “Aunt Shontal is on the phone,” he announced.
“Tell her I’ll call her back.” Charly turned away, not wanting her son to see the possible rapture on her face from kissing another man. Neither he nor Joi had seen her involved with anyone other than their father. The few men she’d briefly dated did not get introduced to her kids.
Dane stood. “Go ahead and take Shontal’s call,” he told her. “I’d best be leaving.”
The last thing she wanted was for him to leave, but she respected his wishes. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she promised.
Dane pecked her on the cheek, and within minutes, he was gone.
Hours later, Charly was exhausted. She’d spent an hour talking to Shontal and another hour laying across her king-size bed, trying to wrap her head around the day’s events. Too much drama had happened today. The juxtaposition of her life had had a head-on collision with her fantasy man. This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen. But the reality was she could never escape her life. She was foolish to try to keep it at bay, even for a week in the Maldive Islands. She hoped Dane was strong enough to handle it.
She ran water for a bath, and then she checked on her kids as she did each night. She expected to find Joi fast asleep. Her daughter wasn’t the typical teenager who stayed up late and had to be threatened with bedtimes and curfews. Joi was a morning person. Surprised to see a light on under Joi’s door, Charly nocked softly before entering. Joi was wide awake, lying atop her pink ruffled blanket.
“You’re still up?” Charly asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.
Joi turned her tear-streaked face to Charly. “Why did you have to chase Daddy away?”
That hurt. After everything she’d done to protect her kids from their irresponsible father, she still ended up looking like the bad guy. Joi was too young to remember Diego’s bad behavior when he came home stumbling drunk and full of drugs. Charly had covered for him long enough. She was tired of making excuses for Cruz. “Honey, you don’t remember but he was doing some pretty destructive stuff. I couldn’t allow our family to be jeopardized any longer. It wasn’t safe having him around.”
“Can’t you see he’s lonely? Don’t you care about him at all?”
Charly let out a deep breath. “I loved your father, once. But I love you and Diego more. I couldn’t let my children be affected by Cruz’s bad choices.”
Joi sniffed, and rubbed her beet-red nose. “You’re the reason he can’t come back.”
“Yes. But it’s for your protection. Our protection.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I would never lie to you.” Charly didn’t know what else to say. These conversations with Joi had grown more frequent as she grew from a curious child to a young woman insistent on having her questions answered.
Diego’s solid form filled the doorway of Joi’s room. “Grow up, dummy. Can’t you see Dad was high?” His scowl spoke volumes. “That’s disrespectful to Mom.”
Joi’s bloodshot eyes flew to Diego. “He’s been through a lot. He’s practically homeless, and you don’t care!”
“He doesn’t care about us. So why should I care about him?”
Charly jumped in. “Yes, your father does care about each of you. He’s simply making a series of bad decisions now.”
“So, you’re making his decisions for him?” Joi accused.
“Yes, Joi,” Charly’s voice took on a hard edge. “I’m in charge and I’m making the decisions for everyone in this family.”
Joi’s lip trembled as a fresh round of tears sprang to her eyes. I hate you!” She buried her face in her pillow and sobbed.