Rock Fever

by Theresa Hodge

  Within months he became depressed and moody, and I had to goad him for days before he finally confessed that his business had failed woefully and that he had lost my money. Although disappointed, I wasn’t too upset. What was seven thousand dollars when my beloved was concerned, I had thought?

  This became a trend, and I started siphoning money from my inheritance. I was a lone bird and therefore had nobody to check my excesses and tell me I was treading the path to bankruptcy. After Lane had several more failed ventures, all of them funded with my money, I had almost nothing left in my bank account.

  At that point, I told him point blank to look for capital elsewhere because I wasn’t giving him another dime. He threw a tantrum and called me a spoiled child who had never had to work for anything in her life.

  “Do you know how hard it is for people like me? People who don’t have college educations and things handed to them on a platter of gold by their loving grandparents?” he had said on that fateful evening. “Look at you! You have your whole life set up for you for the rest of your life. You have your house, an inheritance, and a job. And what do I have? Nothing! Nothing at all.” In the end I felt sorry for him and gave him the money he requested “just one last time” for a new venture, and just like all the others, it failed.

  It was at this point that I decided we should leave Houston. Maybe Lane would do better elsewhere. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much going on in the interior design field in Austin. I needed to live in a larger city with plenty of wealthy residents. I began applying for jobs in the major cities: L.A., Miami, New York. Davina Décor in Westchester County, just north of New York City, offered me a job.

  I promptly put my house on the market, telling myself that it was just a house. Lane and I could raise our children anywhere, but he had to have a job before he could buy me a ring.

  The house sold quickly, and me, being blinded by love, deposited the proceeds in a joint account I shared with Lane. I wanted to add something of value to our future, to prove that I still believed in him. That proved to be a bad move. While I was busy with work and being in love, Lane disappeared…with all the money in our account.

  Fortunately, I still had enough in my own account to accept the job in New York. I sold most of my furniture, arranged to have the rest moved, and drove to start a new life in New York, and now Lane had found me again. I guess he thought that since I’d been such an easy mark he’d try to take me for more, but by now I’d learned my lesson.

  CHAPTER 3

  A pleasant breeze blew on the night of my dinner with César, the temperature perfect for an outdoor dinner. If he didn’t mention it, I would ask if we could have our meal outside. Oh, how I loved dining under the stars…

  I slid into the back seat of the limousine César insisted on sending for me. It seemed unnecessary to me, since I lived less than fifteen minutes away, but what the heck. A ride in a chauffeured limousine once in a while is great for a woman’s ego.

  Once on César’s property, his manservant, Abelardo, parked and opened the car door for me. I alighted from the limousine and closed my eyes as I took in a fresh breath. The air on his estate was so much more pleasant, filled with sweet scents from the abundant flowers in the garden. Opening my eyes, I saw César’s appealing form standing right in front of me He must have come outside as I was taking in the captivating aura of the garden. When he moved closer, I realized that his eyes were a steely gray. I had always thought his eyes to be blue, but tonight they looked gray, possibly because of the gray tie he wore.

  Seeing his fit athletic body draped in a suit that fit him so well I suspected it was custom tailored, I felt a little shabby in the strapless sienna-colored dress I’d purchased specifically for tonight, even though I’d splurged on it.

  César seemed to like how I looked, though. His eyes raked over my body in a way that left me breathless. I took in the stiffness of his shirt collar, the way its cuffs peeked out from the sleeves of his suit, and how the suit hugged his trim waist. He cut an outstanding figure, and to my annoyance, I felt heat rising to my face as I checked him out.

  “You look stunning,” he finally said, his accented voice huskier than usual.

  “You are...you are quite well put together yourself, aren’t you, Mr. César Hernandez?” I teased.

  “Eres bella,” he replied, giving me a look that awakened dormant feelings in me.

  I didn’t remember a whole lot of my high school Spanish, but I did know the phrase he’d spoken meant, “You’re beautiful.” I blushed at his compliment and murmured, “Thank you, kind sir,” emphasizing my words with a curtsy.

  He offered his arm and escorted me to the beautifully set table in the middle of the rear gardens. He pulled out my chair, moving to his own chair opposite me once I was seated. Sitting there in the garden under the setting sun with this handsome Spanish prince made me feel like a character in a fairy tale. The only difference was that the Prince in the fairy tale was always in love with the maiden and they lived happily ever after.

  “Un centavo por tus pensamientos,” César said, tearing me from my fanciful thoughts.

  “A penny…” I translated, then gave up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the rest of that means.”

  César grinned; his eyes held such magnetism. “I said, a penny for your thoughts.”

  “I was thinking of fairytales. Silly thoughts really,” I truthfully admitted.

  “You English are such romantics. I love that about you, Charlotte.”

  My heart hammered away in my chest at his words. Suddenly shy, I looked at the table setting, which included a covered porcelain dish and a few bottles of wine.

  “Hmm. What do we have here?” I asked lifting a lid to steal a glance at the food inside.

  “Ah, you’re so curious. Go ahead and look.”

  The dish contained a dozen or more pieces of a chunky meat I didn’t recognize, sprinkled with paprika.

  “What’s this called?” I asked cautiously.

  “This is pulpo a la Gallega, sometimes called polbo a Feira,” he explained.

  “Sounds dangerous,” I responded, fearing for my stomach. “What’s in it?”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Charlotte. It’s just octopus, paprika-flavored octopus.”

  “Oh, is that all,” I said, sounding flippant. I’d never eaten octopus before. I wondered if it tasted like chicken.

  “It’s an amazing seafood. Try some,” César urged, placing some on my plate and then on his.

  I resisted the urge to sniff at it, instead took a small bite. Its texture reminded me of lobster, and its taste reminiscent of chicken. No wonder the expression ‘tastes like chicken’ is used so often. Once I knew it agreed with my taste buds, I started to eat more.

  “It really is quite tasty, César,” I said, relishing the food he had prepared especially for me. I felt honored to be the recipient of his cooking skills.

  After the appetizer, a smiling Abelardo, César’s manservant, replaced that covered dish with another, which contained an authentic paella, as well as a basket of hot rolls.

  During the meal, he poured wine into our goblets, and we drank throughout dinner.

  “I can’t believe you cooked all this. Did you have any help at all?” I asked.

  “No help. I have a flair for cooking,” he said proudly. “I sometimes tell Abelardo to take a break while I brush up on my culinary skills.”

  “Well, let me tell you that you are one great cook. A woman could really get used to this.” I wiped my mouth with my cloth napkin. “Maybe you were a chef in another lifetime,” I teased.

  “Maybe so. And I hope to cook for you again. Feeding you will be my secret passion.” His eyes grew intense and his voice seductive.

  I trembled inwardly and smiled to cover it. Time to change the subject, I thought. “Do you mind me asking how old you are, César?”

  “No, I don’t mind. I will turn thirty-one on my next birthday. What about you?”

  “I jus
t turned twenty-seven,” I replied.

  “A lovely twenty-seven at that,” he responded.

  “Thank you. Tell me, does it ever get boring living like a prince without doing what you are passionate about? I can’t imagine not doing interior design. It’s what I live for, and I’m passionate about it.”

  “It’s hardly a boring life,” he said, smiling as if he found something amusing. “I spend time with my father, working on state business. Girona has a busy tourist industry. We have the Mediterranean beaches on the coast, and inland we have mountains and ski resorts, so we get tourists year round. As the Hereditary Prince, I get to travel all over the world on diplomatic missions and promote my country. I’m also a managing partner in a real estate business I co-own with my American cousins, as well as making investments on behalf of Girona. Soon I will travel to Chile...I’m thinking of investing in some real estate there.”

  Hardly a boring life was right. No wonder he’d looked amused. “Wow, Chile,” I said. I thought about how I’d always wanted to travel. I knew that Chile, down in the southern hemisphere, had one of the world’s most stable economies, but it seemed so far away…“Will you be staying there long?” I asked in a halting voice. It was true that he’d just spent a large sum redecorating, but this house belonged to his father, not to him.

  “I enjoy Chile, but I get nervous about being there for any length of time because it’s on a serious fault line, and I’m afraid of earthquakes. I’ll, uh, probably make this my home base when I’m not in Girona.” He gave me a meaningful look. “Enough about me and my plans...tell me all about Charlotte.”

  “There isn’t much to be said. Unlike you, I haven’t traveled all over the world. I’m from Houston and lived there most of my life. I have a degree in design and moved here to New York to take a job at Davina Décor about eight months ago,” I said, giving him only the basics.

  “I’m sure there is much more to a beautiful African-American woman than what you just stated,” he said, looking intently at me while I blushed under his gaze. “But I will make do with what I have for now. I can coax the rest out of you later.” His tone hinted that I would be seeing more of him in the future, and that thought pleased me.

  “I’ll be looking forward to that, Mr. César Hernandez.”

  He had another surprise in store for me, churros with chocolate sauce for dipping. There was a trick to eating the dessert without the chocolate dribbling down our chins, and we laughed when our efforts were unsuccessful. I trembled in delight when César wiped some chocolate from the outer corner of my mouth with his index finger and then licked it off. I was wildly attracted to this man.

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to clean up ourselves,” he said. “I told Abelardo to take the rest of the night off after he brought out the paella, and the housekeeper won’t be back until Monday morning.”

  “I don’t mind. I’m used to cleaning up,” I replied.

  We both stood, gathered the dishes, and headed inside to the enormous kitchen. César removed his jacket and tie, loosened his collar and rolled up his sleeves to just below his elbow. I rinsed off the plates, utensils, and glasses, and he loaded them into the dishwasher. The cover went back on the paella dish, and César put it in the refrigerator.

  After wiping down the table outside, we were all done.

  “It’s been a lovely evening, César,” I said. “I guess I should go now.”

  He strode to where I stood to lean against the kitchen island. The faint scent of his woodsy cologne greeted my nostrils when he moved closer. His gray eyes lured me in. He placed his palms on the counter and leaned in so close that we were almost touching, and I couldn’t think of any other thing at that moment.

  “You don’t have to take your leave yet,” he murmured. “The night is still young.”

  My lips parted slightly as his face drew in closer to mine. I wanted him to kiss me, and I sensed he desired me just as much. César gently grazed his knuckles against my cheek. His hand felt smooth and warm against my skin. I shivered involuntarily as his shining gray eyes locked on mine. He slid his hand to the hollow of my throat, spreading his fingers against the column of my neck and slowly downward, toward the top border of my strapless dress.

  I trembled slightly, but I didn’t move. César’s breath was warm against my face as he skimmed his hand over the bare skin of my lower neck, coming to a stop against my heart. It was beating very fast, and when he moved his hand down to the swell of my breast, I drew a slow breath. I felt my skin heat under his hand with each caress, and my back arched, thrusting my chest outward.

  I gave in to his charms, my eyes fluttering shut. He touched his lips to mine, and as he kissed me my heart lurched. He drew my lip in between his teeth then probed deeply, and my tongue swirled along with his while his hand cupped my breast.

  I made a squealing sound in my throat, and he pressed me against the island. I felt his hardness against my thigh, and I loved feeling the proof of his attraction to me. His kiss utterly enamored me, along with the sweet sensation of his mouth and his tongue against mine and the pressure of his body as he pressed against me.

  My body was simmering and swelling with passion, on the verge of exploding with the need to be touched. Although I knew it was insanity for my body was responding to César’s ministrations, I also found it wildly erotic. He slipped his hand into the bodice of my dress, and the feel of his warm hand on my naked breast erased all reasonable thought.

  My hands tangled themselves in his luxurious thick hair and then fell to his muscular shoulders and arms. From there I slid my hands down to his forearms, then to his hips as he bent his head and skimmed his lips over my neck.

  With one hand on the small of my waist, he drew me even closer to him. At this point, I regained my senses and put a hand between us, pushing for a bit of space between us. César lifted his head while I gasped for air. I could finally breathe.

  “I really should go,” I said breathlessly, my hands leaving his chest to adjust my dress and smooth down my hair. The crotch of my panties was a soggy mess. I was on the cusp of letting this man have his way with me.

  “No, carina,” he said, shaking his head as his piercing gray eyes locked with mine.

  “I need to go,” I repeated. I averted my eyes, pushed past him briskly, and hurried toward the front door, even though I had no idea how I would get home. I hadn’t seen Abelardo since he served the paella and rolls. I had gotten within sight of the front door, near his office across from the living room, when César caught up with me and grabbed my hand, turning me around to face him. I expected him to apologize for what happened in the kitchen, but he stared intensely into my eyes, and once again I felt my passion begin to unfurl. I looked at his lips, those enticing lips that awakened such feeling in me just a few seconds ago and were now just a few short inches from mine.

  “Mi amada,” he whispered, and I felt my body go soft, feeling the tingling desire and unique need to yield to the softness of his mouth once again. I felt wholly desirable for the first time in a long while.

  His fingertips moved lightly across my jaw, to the hollow behind my ear, inflaming my skin. He pressed his lips to my throat, my cheek, and then my mouth. I had neither the power nor the desire to turn away from him. I had nothing in me but need—raw, pulsing need.

  I was caught up in César’s embrace, his hands sinking into my hair, pulling me against his body as he kissed me.

  He lifted me off my feet and carried me forward and to the left, entering the spacious home office I had redecorated. After kicking the door closed behind us, he placed me down on the elegant leather sofa I had chosen with his approval. César’s hands were on my ankle, skimming up my leg, sliding under my dress to caress my bare thigh, and then moving up to the space between my thighs that craved his shaft the way my lungs needed air to breathe.

  I dug my fingers into his shoulders and gasped into his mouth when he touched me there. Already slick and wet, shivers of passion radiated through my body
as his fingers danced in the furrows of my sex. There was no going back; I had crossed the point of no return.

  “Your dress,” César said breathlessly as he removed his hand from my body. “It must come off.”

  I enjoyed his heated gaze as I stood up and with slow deliberation, pushed the dress down my body and let it slide to the floor before stepping out of it.

  César’s gray eyes darkened as he looked at my body, naked except for my panties. His nostrils flared with his intake of air as his eyes lingered on my C-cup breasts.

  “Eres bella,” he whispered.

  I reached for my thong panties and pulled them down also. I stood proudly before César, completely bare, letting my lover see all of me. His arousal had formed a tent in his trousers, and I stepped over his legs, straddling him with my knees before lowering myself to his lap.

  He groaned with pleasure, then shifted our positions so we were reclining, his body stretched out over mine, his lips on my lips. I sought his body, my hands beneath his shirt, stroking his back while my mouth twirled around his. I pressed my breasts against him, and when he pushed my hands away to pull off his shirt, I boldly moved my hand to the front of his slacks and skidded my palm over the budge of his massive erection.

  “Eres tan jodidamente hermosa.” César lifted his head with his grunted words. He let out another guttural groan, his eyes darkened, and my longing for him intensified. I cupped his cock and rubbed my hand against it.

  “Charlotte,” he said hoarsely, “mi amor.”

  It had been a long time since I last heard my name used in such intimate circumstances, and my name on his lips spoken with such raw desire piqued my own arousal. The dam of yearning burst in me. It was unlike any sensation I had ever experienced, a pleasure beyond my wildest imagination. I felt no apprehension, no resignation. I felt nothing but a need to be with him, to feel him inside my body, his hands on my flesh.