GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  “So this wasn’t just a spur of the moment idea you had when I first asked you to help me?”

  She shook her head. “No. In fact, if you hadn’t come asking for my help, I would probably have come and asked Ty-Ken for money sooner or later.” She smiled with the admission.

  “You …” Her words fairly stunned him. “You little sneak.”

  Still smiling, coyly now, she raised an eyebrow. “Sneak? Why am I a sneak?”

  “Because, all this time you made me feel like you didn’t need me, and I was the only one in need of a favor.”

  She shrugged. “Well, as it turned out, that’s the way things happened.”

  He should have known better than to think he was going to get a word in edgewise, but then, Maggie squeezed his hand and winked. He forgot any reaction other than amusement. “You win,” he said. “The timing of events worked out in your favor. But it’s nice to hear you say you would have needed my help eventually.”

  “Maggie, Mr. Tyler, this is Scott.” Judy motioned over the little boy from the slide who’d been trying to walk up it. He came running over in their direction.

  Preston got an instant case of anxiety. She had to invite the kid over. At least it wasn’t a baby. The last time he’d held one of those, it had instantly started crying, as if pronouncing him unfit or undesirable in some way, and he’d walked away with spit up all over the sleeve of his suit.

  The little boy looked up at him with big, brown puppy dog eyes. The way kids did when they were about to hit you up for something you were sure to say “no” to. Sandy brown hair fell over the boy’s face, hanging down into his eyes from an uneven cut some unkind barber had given him.

  “Hey, Scott,” Maggie said brightly. “How old are you?”

  “I’m ten.”

  The voice was sluggish, lacking the enthusiasm of the voices in the courtyard. Preston noticed he didn’t return Maggie’s smile, and he didn’t look at her when she spoke. He stared down at his feet, and then looked up at Preston.

  “I suppose you’re Mr. Tyler,” he said.

  Preston nodded. He stuck out his hand, assuming the kid was old enough now to know to shake it. “You can call me Preston.”

  The kid wrinkled his nose and ignored Preston’s extended hand. “That’s a funny name for a boy. What’d your mom name you that for?”

  He withdrew his hand, placing it back at his side. Funny name? Having grown up with pride in his heritage drummed into him, Preston found it a little discomforting to have his name referred to so distastefully. “It’s, uh, well, it’s a family name.”

  “Scott, that wasn’t very polite,” Judy whispered none-too-subtly into his ear.

  Maggie started laughing. Big surprise there.

  Scott, for his part, continued to stare at Preston, unapologetic. “It is a funny name,” he insisted. “I never met anyone named Preston before. There was a boy in my school named Tyler though. You sure your parents didn’t get your names mixed up? Maybe they meant to name you Tyler Preston.”

  Maggie laughed all the harder. “You have a point there, Scott. He’s the only Preston I know, too.”

  Scott ignored her. He continued to stare at Preston. “Do you like to play baseball?” he asked.

  Preston shifted his stance, acutely aware of the expectant look the boy beamed his way. “Actually, I’m more of a golf man.”

  Missing the resulting disappointment in Scott’s eyes and the dejected look on his face would have been impossible even for a blind man.

  “So I guess you don’t to play catch then.”

  Great, Preston thought. Discomfort and guilt. What the hell was the matter with him? Scott was just a kid. And from the looks of it, one who could use a little time and attention.

  “Maybe next time,” he said.

  Maggie shot him a look that said “moron,” before turning back to the boy and smiling. “I’ll play catch with you, Scott.”

  He wrinkled his nose even worse than he had upon hearing Preston’s name and turned to leave. “No way! You’re just a girl.”

  Preston knew that one had to sting. His turn to laugh this time. The damning look Maggie shot him only made him laugh harder.

  “Very funny,” she muttered.

  Preston put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. “Hey, I don’t mind if you’re just a girl. I’ll still play with you.”

  She grinned and whispered, “Isn’t that what you used to tell me when we were kids and you offered to play doctor?”

  He remembered those days well, though playing doctor had never been accomplished until after they started dating. The thought brought a smile to his face. “That offer still stands, you know.”

  Her cheeks flushed red. She felt warmer to his touch. The shared memory had reached her. He relaxed. This was turning out to be more fun than he’d expected. So what if the building was cold and forbidding. Inside, it felt warm and cozy.

  Or was that just the effect Maggie had on him?

  The idea of leaving took on a new appeal now. He wanted to get her back to his Miami apartment, the place where they’d made love for the first time. How perfect it would be.

  He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Shall we go?”

  Just as she was about to answer, his cell phone rang. “Darn it,” he grumbled. Damn thing always rang at the worst times. “Hello.”

  “Hey, buddy, it’s Rod.”

  Finally. “I’ve been waiting for your call. What’s the good news?”

  “The good news is that DeSantis can’t seem to find the so-called evidence he used to close down Maggie’s bar. So, Jane Kingsley has ordered the bar re-opened immediately.”

  Pride pumped him to an unbelievable high. Finally, he had something to give Maggie that really mattered to her. “Rod, my man, you are a miracle worker.”

  “Hey, buddy, don’t I know it. I want to give Mags the good word now. Do you have her number handy?”

  As pumped as he was, the thought of Rod talking to Maggie instantly irritated him. “No need. She’s standing right next to me. I can’t wait to give her the good news myself, so I’ll get back with you a little later.”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  Preston noted Rod’s disappointed-sounding response with satisfaction. He was tired of the man hitting on the woman he loved. As soon as he shoved the cell phone into his back pocket, he grabbed Maggie by the waist and swung her around.

  A delighted smile appeared on her face, a mixture of surprise and excitement. “Did Rod get my bar back open?”

  No, he wanted to shout, I got your bar back open. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but he didn’t dare ruin this moment. “That’s right, honey. Your bar’s back open. Our charity ball is back on!”

  She squealed, laughing like a delighted child. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him. “Thank you so much. I owe you big time for this one.”

  He wanted to melt with her right then and there. He knew now it was worth this one little deception about the exact methods Rod had employed to open the bar back up. The important thing was he had just given her a wonderful gift. He pulled her close, not even caring that they were in full view of Judy and whoever else happened to be looking. “For you, Maggie, anything.”

  Chapter 43

  Dozens of thoughts roamed Tracy’s mind as she applied her lipstick and mascara. Second date kind of thoughts. Her second date with Henry was about to take place, and she was more nervous about this one than she had been about the first. So nervous, the butterflies never seemed to settle in her stomach.

  Inevitably, she remembered her second date with Rod. It had been the thing of nightmares. The complete opposite of their first date. Instead of behaving like a perfect gentleman, he’d tried slipping his hand up her dress right in the restaurant, forcing her to plead a headache and ask to be taken home.

  Instead of taking her straight home as requested, he’d parked his car along the shoreline, suggesting a walk might help ease her headache. A sick fear had
begun creeping into her then. She’d been afraid he might not do as she’d requested. And just as she’d begun to fear that, he’d grabbed hold of her and pulled her into his arms. He’d stared at her, looking deadly serious, except for a slightly upturned corner of his mouth. “You want me to kiss you the way I kiss a woman when we’re about to make love,” he’d told her. “And then, you want me to do more. And that makes you nervous, doesn’t it?”

  She could hardly believe she’d heard right. What happened to the gentleman who’d taken her out before? Did she really give men the impression she was just an easy lay? “I want you to take me home,” she’d repeated, sounding as forceful as possible.

  He had merely smiled at her command. “That’s only because you’re afraid you won’t be able to tell me no.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Did other women actually find this type of behavior appealing? “I have to get going,” she’d said. “I told Mrs. Galloway I wouldn’t be late.”

  He’d looked at his watch. “It’s only nine o’clock.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “I told Mrs. Galloway I’d be home by nine.” She didn’t care what time it was. She’d had all of Rod Skinner she could stomach. She’d jumped out of his car and walked off in the direction of her house. “I’ll take myself home since you don’t seem to be able to manage it.”

  She’d left before he could say another word. Afterward, she’d been depressed for hours, thinking of how she had turned down any chance of going out with Henry just to endure a miserable evening with a man who turned out to be every bit the womanizing pig Maggie had reported him to be.

  So when Henry had asked her out, despite the way she’d accepted a date with Rod right in front of him, she’d gladly accepted. She sensed from the start that with Henry, being a gentleman was more than just an act. He was the real deal, she thought. Someone she really could make a life with. The thought gave her butterflies all over again, and her mind leapt to compare her feelings for Henry to the feelings she’d had after her second date with Rod.

  Rod was exactly the kind of man she’d always thought she wanted. Self-confident and hard-working, not some lazy, booze-guzzling, woman-beating louse like her ex, who blamed all of his problems on her. It had taken just that one date, however, to open her eyes.

  Pride accompanied her realization now. It wasn’t that many years ago she’d have fallen into a self-destructive trap of thinking she deserved whatever bad treatment a man gave her. Even that she had somehow caused it. Willing to take the blame for anything done to her. She’d have given in to Rod and let him use and discard her, and then would have gladly blamed herself for it afterward. Thank God she’d gone to that shelter two years ago, after receiving her third broken bone from her ex. She deserved so much better than that. She deserved a man like Henry.

  The doorbell rang and she skipped across the living room to answer it, whispering to herself, “please, God, don’t let me make another mistake.”

  Chapter 44

  Maggie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and scrutinized herself. The dress she wore was simply cut with short sleeves and a scoop neck. But its aqua color matched her eyes almost perfectly. With her dark hair and sun-bronzed skin, the effect was stunning.

  Preston had suggested a celebration dinner when they were at the shelter, just as soon as the good news had come. She was so happy she’d have agreed to almost anything. Especially when he’d allowed they leave for Key West first, instead of having dinner in Miami as he’d first suggested.

  According to the clock on her dresser, the doorbell rang right on time. Her heart skipped like it was playing hopscotch. God, but she was acting ridiculously sophomoric. She practically ran to answer the door. “Preston,” she greeted. He wore a tight pair of black jeans and a beige madras shirt, unbuttoned at the top to reveal a sprinkling of chest hair the same sandy color as the hair on his head.

  Her thighs fairly melted at the sight of him. This was more than ridiculous. They were not compatible and she was not going to give him another chance to prove it. The giddiness she felt was nothing more than a stupid mixture of euphoria over having her bar opened back up and the basic, primitive urges that afflicted all human beings.

  “Come in,” she said, proud of the calm tone to her voice. “I’ve got some champagne on ice. I thought we might toast our victory before we go to dinner.”

  “Wonderful idea!” The suggestion brightened his entire face. “And thanks for accepting my invitation.”

  Her heart beat erratically. It seemed like the longer she spent being wary of his touch, the more she wanted it. Sexual desire, she reminded herself. A basic human instinct. Nothing more.

  She concentrated on pouring the champagne into two glasses without spilling it. “I received a call from someone at the ABT right after I got home,” she said. “Tracy’s already planning a grand re-opening bash for tomorrow night.”

  He took the champagne without taking his gaze away from her. Tasting a single sip from his glass, he set it down on the counter, then brushed the side of her face and tangled his fingers in her hair.

  She shivered at his touch. Setting her glass down beside his, the potency of her desire overcame her at last. “Kiss me, Preston.”

  Growling, he wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  Pressing his body tight against hers, backing her up to the sink, his hands slid along the curves of her body, tracing them with his fingertips, eliciting waves of need like ripples through her insides. Maggie moaned, feeling every last bit of control slip through her fingers like grains of sand. Sexual desire. The words raced through her mind. That was all there was to it. There didn’t have to be anything more. She could just give in one time and get it out of her system. Get him out of her system. Regain control.

  She parted her lips, allowing him to taste her with his kiss. How long three years seemed to her now. She pulled away from him just enough to end the kiss. She’d missed him too, but she couldn’t force the words out of her mouth. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  His stare seemed to penetrate her thoughts. Go to bed, her body screamed. Who needs dinner?

  “I want you, Maggie.”

  His mouth founds hers again. His taste filled her senses. Overwhelmed her thoughts. She’d been able to pull away from his previous kisses, but this one felt altogether different. Her resolve crumbled this time, even as she fought to hang on. Preston slid his hand around to her backside and crushed her into his hips. She felt his throbbing erection distinctly beneath his slacks.

  “Let me make love to you.”

  He whispered into her ear, his hot breath provoking a shiver through her body. She tried once to pull away, but his kiss only came more urgently. His tongue explored her mouth more fully. She weakened to the shower of unexpected, almost-forgotten pleasure that swept over her. As if sensing her collapse, Preston moved his hand up her dress and between her thighs.

  She moaned, willing him to slide his finger inside. She’d no sooner had the thought than he made it a reality. Groaning, she placed her hand over top of his, pressing it downward, moving her hips in an instinctive rhythm. More perfect timing could not have been found.

  His manner had become bold, charismatic. And in response, her body betrayed every ounce of logic she possessed. The only thing she could think of, the only thing that seemed to matter, was that she wanted to feel him inside her again. She couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t reason. Didn’t even want to.

  Preston pulled the lacy bikini underwear she wore over her hips and let them fall to her ankles. A zipping noise sounded, but she remained only semi-aware of its significance, until the moment he thrust himself inside her. She gasped, nearly breathless from surprise, the shock wave of pleasure, the rush of excitement. How could she ever have forgotten what this felt like? She pushed her hips forward, urging him deeper inside. He responded eagerly, pumping so hard into her she felt dizzy. “Don’t ever
stop,” she moaned.

  Preston withdrew from her, a teasing smile on his face. “Only long enough to carry you to bed.”

  Her mind shut down, forced out of the way by the needs of her body. Strong arms gently encircled her, lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. As she leaned her face against his chest, his heart pounded in a strong, steady beat against her cheek. A musky scent of male testosterone filled her nostrils, taking her mind even further into oblivion. Now, only the sensations of the flesh registered in her brain. The soft feel of her bed as she was laid down upon it. The warm, smooth feel of his hand sliding her dress up over her head and free of her body.

  She heard the unclasping of her bra, felt his fingers kneading into her back as he removed the material. Her eyes closed, she listened to the sound of him undressing, of his slacks hitting the floor with a dull thud, followed by the sounds of shirt buttons tearing free of cloth.

  Moments later, he was on top of her and back inside her. The rest of the world fell away into a black hole of nothingness and was replaced by the warm pleasure now filling her.

  “I love you, Preston.”

  The words left her mouth before she’d been aware she was going to say them.

  Chapter 45

  Henry pulled his car into Tracy’s driveway and shut off the engine. He’d spent the rest of the night after their second date restless, thinking about the feelings she aroused in him, eager to see her again. In a matter of days, he’d gone from feeling like a tired old dog resigned to spending his life in bachelorhood, to a youngster fresh out of high school and ready to learn a few new tricks. By the time the morning sun peeked over the horizon, he’d decided to pay her a visit.