by Tara Wylde
In my mind’s eye, I picture Lucy stepping under the steaming spray, imagine the water running down her naked body as she soaps up. My cock springs to life, insisting we go join her. I ignore it. After last night, she’s bound to be sore. Better to give her some time to heal before teaching her the joys of shower sex.
A few minutes later, the shower turns off and Lucy reappears in the main room, wet hair slicked back over her skull, and her body hidden in the big, fluffy robe the hotel provided.
I gesture at the table and pull out a chair. “Breakfast is served.”
Lucy shoots me the classic nervous, morning-after look but slides into the chair. Before moving to my own chair, I lean down and press a hard kiss to her mouth, enjoying the way her lips automatically part, inviting me to deepen the kiss. “Good morning.”
Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. “Good morning.” She wraps both hands around the coffee mug and lifts it to her mouth.
I slide into the chair across from her and select a blueberry muffin from the basket the hotel sent up. Some guys might pussyfoot around what Lucy and I shared last night, wanting to give the woman time to relax, to get comfortable with them. I decide to take the direct approach.
“Last night was…” Lucy’s eyes widen over the mug and her entire body tenses. “Mind blowing,” I continue. “I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”
Lucy’s blush deepens. I love watching it spread, until her face, her neck, and the interesting slice of cleavage the robe’s deep neckline leaves exposed are bright pink.
“Me either,” she whispers. Her shoulders relax slightly.
“I have to ask. How come you and your boyfriend never…” I look for a phrase that won’t offend or make her jumpy. “did the deed?”
Lucy looks down at the table and frowns. “Lance and I started dating about two months into our senior year of high school.”
“Let me guess. He was the captain of the football team, and you were a member of the marching band.” That seems to be how most of these kinds of stories go.
Lucy snorts. “I was in band, but Lance didn’t play football. He was in band with me. And he was our class president. That was actually how we got to know each other. He was president and I was class treasurer. We had a few officer meetings that ran late and he gave me a ride home, and somehow that turned into dating.”
“But not sleeping together.”
“No,” Lucy confirms. “Not sleeping together, at least not the way you mean.”
“How come?”
“Lance’s parents were, are, extremely conservative. Lance was less so. He wasn’t opposed to kissing and heavy makeout sessions before marriage, but he believed that … penetration, should be saved until after the vows. When we were in high school, I thought it was sweet. I was the only girl who didn’t have to worry about her boyfriend pushing her further than she wanted to go, and I didn’t have a single pregnancy scare.”
“Bet your parents loved that.”
“Lance was about the only guy in the school they felt comfortable about me dating,” Lucy confirms. “When we were in college, we kept dating and eventually got engaged. I thought my life was perfect. I was doing well in school. I had this amazing guy. And once we graduated, I was going to be his wife.”
Jealousy stabs through me, which is silly. Clearly, Lance wasn’t as great as she’d thought. If he was, she’d be sitting with him right now instead of me.
“What happened to Mr. Perfect?” The words come out sharper than I intend them to.
“He died,” Lucy says bluntly.
Oh shit!
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “It happened my junior year of college.”
“What happened?”
“Car accident. We were driving back to campus late one night after having dinner with his parents. It was January and there’d been a snow storm. The roads weren’t as clear as they should have been. The car hit a patch of ice and spun out of control. It hit a tree. Lance bled out.” Lucy touches the starburst-shaped scar on her cheek. “I walked away with this.”
“Oh, Lucy.”
“It was my fault.” Lucy’s voice is small, but it drips self-loathing.
“How could it be-”
“We were fighting. If I hadn’t been arguing with him, Lance would have been paying better attention to the road, would have noticed he was speeding and we’d never have crashed.”
And just like that, I understand why she shuts down whenever Suzie starts yelling at her and making unreasonable demands. In Lucy’s mind, conflict means tragedy.
I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine, offering what little comfort I can even as it feels like a steel band is tightening around my chest.
It’s just my luck. After a lifetime of searching, I finally find a woman I can see myself spending the rest of my life with, and she’s tied to the memory of a dead love. One whose death she feels responsible for.
How the hell am I supposed to compete against that?
Ryan
“Do you have any plans for today?”
Lucy and I turn away from the checkout counter. The suit I wore to yesterday’s wedding is tucked neatly into the garment bag I’m holding and I’m comfortable in sneakers, jeans, and an Anaheim Mighty Ducks sweatshirt. Lucy looks far less comfortable in her white peep-toed shoes and the badly wrinkled dress she wore to the wedding.
Most people probably think she looks disheveled, but I think she looks adorable.
“I’m going home and change into some clean clothes. Then, I’m going to rake my yard and water my flowers. After that, I might spend some time reading or watching television.”
“So, then, nothing major in the works for today.” I push the door that leads from the lobby to the outdoors open and hold it, allowing Lucy to proceed me out into the morning sunlight.
“No,” Lucy confirms. “Nothing major. Just typical Sunday stuff.”
“Great.” We turn in the direction of my rental BMW. The hard soles of Lucy’s shoes click against the concrete sidewalk. “Keep it that way.”
Lucy studies me. “Why?”
“I have something in the works. Something I’ve asked Margo to set up. I’m waiting on a call back from her to know if it’s going to work out or not. If it does, I want you to go with me.”
“As your fake girlfriend?”
I’m really starting to hate that phrase. I no longer want our relationship to be fake; I want the real thing. But until Lucy’s in the same emotional place that I am, the deal we made is the only thing I have that’ll keep her by my side, so I need to keep playing along.
When she first woke up, I hoped that by this point we’d have already moved onto the next level, but now that I know about good, sweet, wholesome – dead – Lance. I have my work cut out for me.
Hopefully, what I have planned for this afternoon will help ease things along…
Lucy skids to a stop. “Ryan.”
“What’s up?”
“Look at your car.”
The rental BMW is sitting right where I left it, the bright red paint gleaming cheerfully in the morning sunlight, but it’s no longer in the same pristine condition. All four of the tires have been slashed and someone scratched the word ‘bitch’ into the passenger door. The word ‘whore’ is scrawled on the hood.
When I walk around to the opposite side of the car, I find word ‘slut’ scrawled into the driver’s door.
I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial 9-1-1. I meet Lucy’s eyes as I wait for the dispatcher to pick up.
“At least this time we don’t have to wonder if we picked up the message by mistake.”
Lucy
Crushed trash cans and shattered flower pots litter the pavement. Dirty pools of water form under the debris as the sun climbs higher into the sky and melts the thick layer of frost coating the items.
Maxie gapes at the mess. “How did this happen?”
Heat Flare’s mouth flattens into a grim l
ine. “This is the Frost Queen’s work. Her calling card, so to speak. It’s her way of letting you know that you’ve caught her attention and that she knows where you live. She wants to scare you.”
Maxie looks at a large frozen pile of ceramic shards that had been the cutest statue of a cartoon cat. “She succeeded.”
“So.” Heat Flare crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares at her so hard, she fully expects his Caribbean blue eyes to bore holes into her flesh. “Still think your friend, the Manipulator—” He spits out the name of Dillion’s alter ego like just the sound of it leaves a vile taste in his mouth, “—has the situation under control?”
Deputy Seth Brown walks around the BMW, notepad in hand, studying the scratches.
“Somebody had a serious mad on when they did this,” he says, his nasal, northern Wisconsin accent slightly slurred as a result of the enormous wad of gum he has jammed into his mouth. Gum that he’s been chewing in a valiant effort to give up his two pack a day habit. He jots something down in his notebook and gives me the side eye. “Happen to know who’d be this mad at you?”
I gape at him. “Why do you assume that this is about me?” I point to Ryan, who’s standing a few feet away, his cell phone plastered to his ear as he and Margo arrange for a replacement rental car to be sent here. “It’s his car.”
“True enough,” Seth agrees. “And that’s exactly why I’d normally say that this was about him, but since the words are clearly meant for a woman, and you spent the night here with him in the hotel, I figure you’re the target.”
“But why?” I protest. “People like me.”
Ryan covers the mouthpiece of his cell phone with one hand. His blue eyes meet mine. “Suzie was pretty peeved at you last night.”
“Suzie Collins?” Seth scribbles a comment on his notepad. “Her wedding was here last night, wasn’t it?”
“The reception was,” I reluctantly confirm. I try to form a mental picture of Suzie walking around Ryan’s car, key in hand, and carving the filthy words into the car’s sleek paint job. “But she’s mostly bark and no bite. At best, she’d walk around the car with the keys out and scratch it, but I can’t see her putting in the effort to write actual words into it, and certainly not more than one.”
“What’s she upset about?”
“Who knows?” I try to smooth a wrinkle out of my skirt. “I helped her with her wedding, and nothing I seem to do is quite up to her standards. And last night she wasn’t happy that I decided to leave the reception early with Ryan.”
“Why’d you leave?”
I don’t respond. I just fix him with a flat stare and wait for him to put the pieces together. Given the state of my dress and the fact that Ryan and I are both standing here, it shouldn’t be too difficult.
After a few seconds, Seth clears his throat. “Oh, I see.”
He at least has the good grace to look embarrassed that he asked in the first place.
“Besides, there were a lot of people here with Suzie. Even when she left, I can’t imagine she didn’t have an entourage plus Eli with her.”
“I should probably talk to her,” Seth decides.
“She’s on her honeymoon,” I say.
“Oh.” Seth writes down another note. “Know when she’ll be back?”
“Not for three weeks. You can try calling her. She normally has her cell phone close at hand.”
Seth shakes his head. “If she’s out of the country, she won’t be doing any damage here. I’ll just make sure that I talk to her as soon as she and her husband get back. And I’ll let the insurance company know that she’s a person of interest.”
Ryan disconnects the call and drops his phone into his pocket as he walks over to us. “Did Lucy tell you about the note she found the night before last?” he asks Seth.
“What note?”
I quickly fill Seth in on the note I found in my pocket.
“Show it to him, Luce.” Ryan nudges me with his elbow.
I shoot him an exasperated glare. He’s cute and seems like a genuinely nice guy, but since he’s blown into my life, things have been intensely complicated.
“I threw it away.”
Ryan drags a hand through is hair. “Why?”
“Because I thought it was trash. I’m still not convinced it’s not.”
Seth closes his notebook and tucks it into his pocket. “I’ll do what I can for this case. The good news is that this place does have security cameras. The hotel manager is already in touch with the security company and having them send the footage over to the station. Once I get back there, I’ll review what the cameras caught last night. There’s a solid chance that once we take a look at those, we’ll find the perpetrator and the pair of you can put this entire episode behind you. In the meantime, can I offer you a lift someplace?”
Ryan nods toward the hotel’s parking lot entrance just as a sleek Mercedes pulls into the lot. “That looks like my ride right now.”
Seth turns and studies the tall, elegant blonde sitting behind the wheel and lets out a low whistle. “Wow!”
Laughing, Ryan claps a hand to his back. “If you’re interested, she’s single. I can put in a good word for you.”
“That’s real nice of you to offer.” Seth tugs at his collar and sucks in his slight beer gut. “But unfortunately, if I took you up on it, my fiancée would skin me alive...” He shoots Ryan a rueful grin.
While Seth makes one more loop around the BMW, Ryan opens the Mercedes’s passenger side door and helps me inside, before taking a seat in the back. He slides to the middle, leans over the console, and kisses Jenna’s cheek.
“Thanks for agreeing to pick us up,” he tells her.
“It’s all part of being Margo’s new assistant. This is a sight better than some of the other things she’s asked me to do. You wouldn’t believe…”
Her eyes lock onto the BMW. “Your poor car!”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed with just a little body work,” Ryan says easily as he buckles himself in.
Jenna points the car toward the exit. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”
“Lucy’s place.” Ryan rattles off the address, which he’s apparently memorized. I don’t know whether to be impressed, or alarmed.
Jenna nods and programs the address into the Mercedes’ navigation system.
“You’re Margo’s assistant?” I ask.
Jenna nods. “It’s a new career move. Until a few months ago, I was an actor and my sister was my agent.”
I knew she looked familiar. “You were in Space Spooks.” The science fiction show ran for two seasons and featured a team of human detectives sent to another planet to investigate homicides. Despite the weird premise, the show had been oddly compelling. Jenna had played a minor, recurring role.
“That was me,” she says easily. “I did that and a few movies, including a few with Ryan, though I was never quite as successful as he was. Since my acting career didn’t seem to be going anywhere, and it seemed to be having a negative impact on some aspects of my personal life, I decided that maybe I should become an agent. Margo’s teaching me the ins and outs of that side of the business. The plan is that I’ll work as her assistant for a year or two and then start taking on clients and become her partner.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I tell her.
“Hopefully it works out the way I want.” Jenna’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror. “Ryan, before I forget – Margo said she found a reputable security firm in Green Bay and that she set things up so that Lucy will have a bodyguard watching over her twenty-four seven. The guy who’s taking the first shift should be at her place in about an hour.”
“Excellent,” Ryan says.
I have to be hearing things. “What’s that?”
“I asked Margo to set up protection for you,” Ryan explains.
“Why?”
“Because in the short time I’ve known you, you’ve received a threatening note and my car was keyed.” His voice has dev
eloped an argumentative edge that has me shrinking into myself. “Hiring a bodyguard seems like a reasonable move, don’t you think?”
I hate the idea of having somebody watching my every move. It seems so creepy, and I want to tell him so, but when I open my mouth, prepared to give him a piece of my mind, the image of Lance’s body, broken and bloody, flashes through my mind and I shut down.
As I turn to stare out the windshield, I can’t shake the idea that Ryan deliberately used my abhorrence of confrontations in order to get his way.
Ryan
“Mmm,” I moan as Lucy’s tongue and teeth do a variety of interesting things to my right ear. Before her, I never guessed my ear was so sensitive. Now, thanks to Lucy’s magic mouth, I’m fast developing a fetish. All she has to do is look toward the side of my head, and blood pools in my groin.
Less than fifteen minutes ago, we walked out of her house and climbed into the big, well equipped, fancy SUV that apparently was part of the bodyguarding service the Green Bay company had provided. Almost as soon as our butts hit the back seat, we slid across the butter soft leather and meshed our bodies together.
It’s every bit as good as last night.
No, it’s even better, because this time, there’s no trepidation on Lucy’s part. She’s confident, something which is telegraphed by the way she’s rubbing her chest against my upper arm while her mouth does all sorts of wicked things to my ear.
Desperate both to feel her and to get a little payback, I rest my hand on her denim-clad thigh and slowly shift it upwards, inch by inch, massaging the flesh as I go.
Her mouth freezes against my ear. Good, I’ve got her attention.
I bow my head and nip my way along her collar bone, glad she chose to wear a lightweight, scoop neck sweater that leaves a generous expanse of silky skin exposed while also showcasing the soft upper swell of her breasts.
She gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair, as I lick and nip my way along her collar bone.