by Nina Lane
“So,” she says. “You’re happy?”
Not the question I was expecting.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” I swallow some coffee. Stop thinking about that email. Stop. “You?”
She looks at her mug. “With my work, yes. I’ve traveled a lot over the years, met interesting people. My career is fantastic. So are my friends.”
“But?”
“Oh, you know, Dean.” She runs her hands through her short hair. “I’ve always been sorry it didn’t work out between us. Always thought you were the one for me. And I still haven’t found someone else who actually is.”
I have no idea how to respond to that. There might’ve been a time when I’d fooled myself into thinking Helen was also the one, but after Liv came along, I knew there had never been anyone else for me. There never would be.
“I guess you found someone, though,” Helen says, breaking the sudden silence.
Once again, no idea how to respond.
“Liv seems nice,” Helen continues. “Sweet.”
“She is.”
“Paige said you met at a university?”
“In Wisconsin.”
I don’t want to discuss Liv with Helen. Something about her probing tone sets me on edge even more than I already am.
“How long had she been attending?” Helen asks.
“Couple of months.”
“Was she your student?”
Christ. What if Liv had been my student? We’d never have gotten together. I wouldn’t have pursued her, no matter how much I wanted to.
“No,” I tell Helen. “She was a student, but not mine.”
She was mine in a totally different way.
“And what does she do now?” Helen asks.
“She volunteers at the Mirror Lake Historical Museum.”
“What else?”
“She helps out at a friend’s bookstore. And she’s learning how to cook.”
“That’s it?” Helen raises an eyebrow. “Did she finish college?”
“Of course.” I hate the defensive tone in my voice. “She was a library sciences and literature major.”
“Did she ever do anything with that?”
I shove my chair back. The legs scrape against the tile. Tension knots my shoulders.
“What’s this about, Helen?” I snap. “Are you so jealous of what I have with Liv that you need to demean her?”
“I’m not jealous, Dean…”
“Then what? No, Liv doesn’t have a PhD. No, she’s not a Harvard professor. You think I give a shit?”
I put my hands flat on the table. Lean in to look her in the eye. “So she was a student when we met. She was also schlepping coffee. Best damn coffee I’ve ever had. One look at her and I was a goner. Done. Since that day, I’ve never had it so good. So don’t try and put her down because you can’t. She’s everything you never were. Everything you’ll never be.”
A gasp sounds from the kitchen doorway. Paige and my mother are standing there, both looking shocked.
Well, shit.
I straighten and drag a hand down my face. Helen is staring at me. My chest is a snarled mess of nerves. I can’t take back what I said. Can’t think of any way to soften it either.
I push past my mother and sister and go upstairs to Liv.
She’s asleep on the bed, half-curled around a pillow. Her hair is spread around her shoulders, across another pillow. Just the way I like it.
I kick off my shoes and lie down beside her, pulling her back against me. She shifts, sighs, nestles her ass against my crotch.
Just the way I like it.
My tension eases. I shove aside thoughts about Frances’s message, Helen, my parents, my brother. Instead I focus on Liv’s body against mine. Her hair brushes my face, and her peaches scent fills my nose. My pretty wife.
Mine.
Liv sleeps for another half hour. She shifts again and turns toward me.
“Hey.” She gives me a sleepy smile. “When did you get here?”
“Few minutes ago.” I run a hand over the curve of her hip. “You feel okay?”
“Mmm.” She yawns. “Tired lately, though.”
She tucks her face against my shoulder and closes her eyes again. I stroke her hip, which seems curvier than usual, then move my hand around to her belly. Her pants are unbuttoned and the zipper is down. I ease a finger beneath her underwear.
“What’s this about?” I ask.
“Hmm? Oh… my pants are getting tight. Sort of uncomfortable.”
“Yeah?” I spread my hand across her belly, which does seem rounder. A flash of… something fills my chest. Expectation? Hope?
Whatever it is, it feels good.
“I think your pants are getting tight too.” Liv nestles her face against my neck as her fingers brush the bulge in my jeans.
“No wonder, considering you were rubbing your ass against me.”
I feel her grin against my neck. She fondles my crotch.
“Is it uncomfortable?” she asks.
“Very.”
“Hmm.” She slides her other hand between us and starts working the buttons on my fly. When she moves her fingers beneath my boxers to grasp my cock, my whole body tenses. She strokes me slow and easy as her breath gets hotter against my skin. Then she wriggles back to pull my jeans down.
I watch her, wondering what other parts of her body are getting bigger that I haven’t yet noticed. I tug at the hem of her shirt.
“Take this off.”
She flashes me a smile—Christ, I love that smile—and unbuttons her shirt.
How the hell had I missed that? Her breasts are starting to swell over the top of her bra.
She follows my gaze down. “They’re getting bigger, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.” I reach for the front clasp of her bra and flick it open.
Ah, fuck. Full, creamy, perfect. Nipples like berries.
“Come here.” I’m already so hard it hurts. “Now.”
She eases out of her pants and crawls back across the bed to me. Her lips part on a sigh as she looks at my stiff cock and straddles my thighs. With her poised above me, I can see it all now—the greater width of her hips, her rounder belly, those incredible breasts.
I grasp her hips and position her above my prick, then guide her down. Like a glove, she sinks onto my shaft.
“Oh!” She leans forward, bracing her hands on my shoulders. Her hair falls in a curtain on either side of my face.
I grab a swath of her hair to pull her closer for a deep kiss. She sinks farther onto me until I’m throbbing inside her. She shifts, gasping. I dig my fingers into her hips.
“Ride me,” I whisper. “Hard.”
“Jesus, Dean.” Liv sucks in a breath and writhes again. Her body strains. “I feel like I’m going to come already.”
I thrust upward, fast enough to jolt her. “Do it.”
She stares down at me, her breath fast and a flush painting her skin pink. “But I want it to last.”
“I’ll make you come again.”
“But I… oh, God…” Her eyes drift closed as I push upward again. She swivels her hips again, faster, rubbing her clit against me. Just when I think she’s going to take me with her, she gasps and shudders. “Dean… oh!”
She rides the wave of her orgasm, which makes her ripple around my shaft. Then she puts her hands on my chest, her fingernails digging in as she lifts herself up and down. That’s what I want—the sight of her working herself on my cock, her breasts bouncing and her belly rippling. Pressure builds fast in my groin.
It’s not going to last long for me either, and when she slides down and clenches around me, I’m done. I thrust up into her and come like a rocket, pulling her down to me. Her breasts pillow between us, her nipples hard as pebbles, her breath hot on my mouth. She wiggles her hips, drags her breasts against my chest.
“Dean, I want to come again.” Her voice is strained.
I roll her onto her back and move lower on the bed. I slip my hands betwe
en her thighs, spreading them apart. She watches me as she cups her breasts, her fingers playing with the nipples. The sight is almost enough to get me hard again.
She moans and bucks upward when I start to lick her. Sweat beads on her inner thighs. I close my lips around her clit, slip a finger into her, stroking and sucking at the same time. When she fists a hand in my hair, I know she’s close and increase the pace. She comes again with a shriek, gripping my head, holding me against her.
I move back up to her and pull her close. Her chest heaves as she drapes herself across me. Her body is warm and loose. I brush my lips across her hair and feel her sink into sleep.
This is the only place I want to be. Right here, with her.
Everything else has to stay the hell away.
CHAPTER TEN
OLIVIA
omething is weird. Paige and Joanna West have never made a secret of their hostility toward me, but they haven’t flat-out ignored me. Now when I enter the kitchen to ask about helping with dinner, Joanna avoids looking at me. And at Dean, for that matter.
When I catch his eye, I tilt my head toward the garden terrace.
Once outside, I turn to him with a frown. “What’s going on?”
He scratches the back of his neck.
“Dean?”
“Well…”
“Dean?”
A faintly abashed look enters his eyes. “I got into an argument with Helen about you.”
“What?”
“Well, not an argument exactly. She said some things I didn’t like, and I told her off.”
I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. “What, exactly, did you tell her?”
“That you’re the love of my life and she could never compare to you.”
I stare at him. “Really?”
“Not in those exact words, but close.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. I’m getting a little mushy inside, but part of me is very aware that Helen likely didn’t take such a comment well. “Um, what did she say to that?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t stick around to find out.”
“Why did you have to say that to begin with?” I ask.
“She was being bitchy about you. I didn’t like it.”
“And were your mother and sister there at the time?”
“Yeah.” He holds up his hands in defense. “But I didn’t know it. They walked in on us.”
“Dean.” I groan and drop my head into my hands. “That’s why they’re being so weird to me. They’re on Helen’s side.”
“I didn’t realize there were sides.”
“Of course there are sides! When your ex-wife and your current… not to mention last, thank you… wife meet for the first time, how could there not be sides? Especially when your ex-wife is BFFs with your mother and sister?”
Confusion furrows his brow. “When my ex-wife is what?”
“When they’re best friends forever. BFFs. God, you are such a dork.” I start to pace. “I know I can’t compete with their friendship, and I don’t want to, but I would like it if your mother and sister didn’t wish I was out of the picture. And that Helen was still in the picture.”
“Come on, beauty, they don’t think that.”
I harden my heart against the endearment that usually makes me weak in the knees. “Yes, they do. And now they’re going to think it even more if you’ve painted us as… as Lancelot and Guinevere.”
He grins, which annoys me further.
“Guinevere ends up a nun at the end of that story,” he says.
“So?”
“You could never be a nun.”
I whirl around to face him. “Why could I never be a nun?”
“You’re too lusty.”
With that comment, he glances at my breasts. His eyes darken. Desire tingles through me from that one look. I cross my arms again and frown.
“Don’t change the subject. I meant that now your mother, sister, and Helen all think we have some great, passionate love affair—”
“We do.”
Oh, crap. How much do I adore this man?
I struggle to maintain my indignation.
“It makes your history with Helen seem even more horrible,” I continue. “So now they’re all going to resent me for giving you what she couldn’t.”
“Why should they resent you?” he asks. “You didn’t take me away from her. You didn’t even really come on to me until I made the first move.”
“They don’t know that, Dean, and besides it’s irrelevant. It’s a classic story straight from high school. The old girlfriend and her BFFs always resent the new girlfriend.”
“You’re a helluva lot more than my girlfriend, Liv.” He frowns. “You’re my wife. And I won’t apologize for defending you. Anyone has an issue with you, they have to take it up with me.”
His protective tone is back, and again I have to admit I like it. He’s the only person who has ever defended me.
“I just don’t want them to resent me more,” I say.
“Okay, look.” He spreads his hands in the universal male gesture for what the hell do I do now? “What do you want me to tell them?”
I sigh. “Nothing. But please, don’t compare me to Helen anymore. In fact, don’t even mention us in the same breath.”
“That’s a rule I can follow,” he says, pulling me in for a bear hug.
Then he tilts my face up to his so he can give me a heart-melting kiss that makes my lingering irritation dissolve.
“You and me, beauty,” he reminds me, his eyes gentle.
“You and me, professor.”
When we return to the kitchen, Paige and Joanna already have dinner on the table. I keep quiet for most of the meal, still not liking the thought of what Helen might have said. Or the fact that Joanna West likely agreed with her.
I help clean up after dinner, then go upstairs to change into my nightgown. I power up my laptop to check my email. There’s a message from the loan officer of the bank with the subject line Loan Status.
My stomach twists as I click to open the message.
Dear Mrs. West,
We regret to inform you that your application for a small business loan has been denied for the following reasons…
I stop reading and close the email. I already know the reasons. And while this is the answer I’d half-expected, I couldn’t help hoping that maybe I could do it.
I forward the letter to Allie, typing “Sorry” in the body of the email. I’d warned her nothing might come of this, but again part of me had wished for a different outcome.
I suppose I could apply with other banks and companies, but there’s no reason why the response would be different. Nothing about my finances and collateral will change anytime soon, unless I list Dean’s assets. Which I don’t want to do.
After opening a new window, I type “how to save a bookstore” into a search engine and make a list of my findings. Poetry readings, concerts, a used book section, newsletters, membership, a mail-order book website.
I compile the information into a document and send it to Allie. Then I email my supervisor at the Mirror Lake Public Library and ask her if she has any ideas for either increasing Allie’s business or joint programs the bookstore can do with the library.
“Hey, I got an email from Nancy the realtor,” Dean says as he comes in and heads toward the bathroom. “Says she has a few more showings lined up for us when we get back.”
“Great.” I try to sound enthused as I turn back to my research.
When Dean emerges from the bathroom, he’s wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and no shirt. I take a moment to admire him as he walks across the room and gets into bed, putting his reading glasses on and picking up a book from the bedside table.
Pleasure uncoils inside me. I love the contrast of his scholarly demeanor with the outright sexiness of his muscular chest and arms. It’s a look that belongs only to him. And is only mine to enjoy.
“Hey, Dean?”
“Hey, Liv.”
I climb onto the bed. “Why did you follow me that day at the registrar’s office?”
“You mean after you left?”
“Yeah. I was upset and hurried out of the office. You followed me. Why?”
“I wanted to help you.”
“Why?”
“Because you said we.”
“I said Wii? The video game thing?”
He laughs. “When the clerk said you couldn’t transfer your credits, you said, ‘There must be something we can do.’ There was a problem, and you knew you were part of the solution.”
“Seriously?” I sit back on my heels, a little disappointed. “That’s why you came after me?”
“Because you were resilient and strong and determined, yes.” He puts the book aside and tugs me closer, warmth brewing in his eyes. “And because you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. When I first looked at you, my heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. I wanted to kiss you right there on the sidewalk. You were wearing a white T-shirt and your jeans had a rip across the thigh, and I had to force myself not to stare at your astonishingly sexy body. Then when you stayed and talked to me… so damn pretty with your hair all messed up by the wind… I couldn’t let you get away.”
“Well.” A flush of sheer pleasure sweeps over me. “That’s better.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Did you already know I was working at Jitter Beans when you came in a couple weeks later?” I ask.
“No. That was the best coincidence of my life.”
“Mine too.” I tilt my head as I study him. “When did you decide to ask me out?”
“I wanted to right away, but I had to find out about the professor-student dating rules.”
I grin. “You looked up the rules before you asked me out?”
“Uh huh. Then I figured if you agreed to go to the museum lecture, it would mean you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“I was so glad you asked me.” I rub my hand over his leg. “I had a big crush on you.”
“I know.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You know?”