A Sugar Daddy’s Secret

by Kathleen Hill

  “Thank goodness she agreed to take the self-defense lessons,” replied Landon. “Thank you for helping her. Not everyone would, especially another woman.”

  “She’s my neighbor and a fellow student. Of course I got involved. I’m going to be a police detective someday. I better get used to these situations now.”

  Warren stared at her in disbelief. She was smaller than Liza, with long dark curls and a pixie face. This tiny little creature wanted to be a police detective? He hoped she was tougher than she looked. Something deep inside him said she was. He was intrigued.

  The doctor walked by and said they could see Liza now. Both men hurried down the hallway. Marcia followed at a much slower pace. The tall blonde had caught her interest. She hoped Liza wasn’t too attached to that one.

  Landon reached Liza first. She threw her arms around him and sobbed, “I tried to fight him off. I almost got away, but something hit my head. I’m sorry that I let you down.”

  Landon’s eyes filled with tears as he replied, “You didn’t let me down. You fought perfectly. There was a second man that snuck up from behind. I couldn’t have won that battle either.” He leaned closer and whispered, “I love you so much.”

  Liza didn’t have a chance to reply before Warren took his turn for a hug. He tried to make her laugh, “You just had to get a matching head wound. Were you afraid I’d get all the attention?” Liza smiled and winced at the same time. Warren continued, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be making jokes. I’m just so happy to see you’re going to be okay. You’re very important to me. I don’t want to lose my girl.”

  The nurse chased everybody from the cubicle. She needed to get Liza moved to her hospital room and visiting hours were long over. Marcia slipped Liza’s cell phone into her hand and winked. She had heard Landon’s whispered words and figured Liza would want to respond.

  The men wanted to stay and sneak into Liza’s room so she wouldn’t be alone all night. Marcia, once again, was the voice of reason. “If both of you try to sneak in, you’ll be caught and tossed out. One might get away with it. The other can take a turn in the morning.” She turned to Warren saying, “Come on blondie. Let’s go get a drink before the bars close. You look like you need one. I know I do.”

  Warren grinned at her bossy manner. She was one tough cookie and he liked it. No one else could have made him leave Liza. Marcia was a force to be reckoned with.

  Landon’s phone buzzed as the pair walked away. There was a text message from Liza. It said, “I love you too. Come talk to me. I need you. Room 210.”

  Landon’s heart almost exploded from his chest. Liza loved him. His patience had paid off. He felt bad for Warren, but she had been meant to be Landon’s from day one. Now he had to find a way into her room.

  Chapter 10

  Warren and Marcia sat at the bar and ordered whiskey shots. He glanced at the tiny woman and said, “I bet that will knock you out quickly. It’s a good thing I’m driving.”

  Marcia smirked and replied, “I could drink you under the table. Don’t let my appearance fool you. I have three older brothers and I outdrink them all the time.”

  Warren faced her and asked, “Why did you let Landon stay at the hospital and make me leave? You didn’t even hesitate with your choice.”

  Marcia answered frankly, “I liked the way you look and I wanted you all to myself.”

  Warren was so shocked that it took a while to reply, “I’m sorry, but I’m kind of involved with Liza.”

  Marcia took his hand in hers and said, “I hate to tell you this, but she’s in love with the other guy and he loves her back. If you hadn’t been caught up in your own feelings, you would have seen it for yourself. Don’t look so sad. You’ll be fine. I intend to make sure of it. She’ll make an excellent friend for both of us, but you’re going to be mine. I guarantee it.”

  Warren was struck deaf and dumb when she grabbed him by the collar and planted a kiss on his paralyzed lips. A power surge shot through his body and out through his toes. Where had this spitfire come from? Warren’s mind imploded with confusion.

  Landon had taken the stairs to the second floor of the hospital. He was afraid that the ding of the elevator would draw too much attention. The floor nurse was at her desk, head down, reading charts. Landon tiptoed down the hall to room 210. The door gave a slight squeak as he opened it, but the nurse didn’t seem to notice. The room was in darkness except for a small light over Liza’s bed. It was like a spotlight showcasing her sweet face. Her arms were raised and open, beseeching Landon to hold her. He quickly obliged. Holding on for dear life, he rocked her in his strong arms.

  Liza finally spoke, “How could you possibly love me? You know what I do for a living. You’ve even paid for my services.”

  Landon hugged her tighter and answered, “I loved you the minute I met you. You are beautiful, kind and generous. You have helped your parents and paid your own way in life. I admire that. You have a dream to help children, which is something we have in common. As to your job, you saw it as a necessary evil. I didn’t like it, but my love for you was stronger. I wasn’t paying for your services. I was helping you with your money troubles and spending time with my future wife.”

  “You are an extraordinary man. I can’t believe you viewed things with such an open mind. I’m so very lucky to have met you. I love you more than ever now.” Liza leaned back and rested her head on the bed. She searched Landon’s face for his reaction to her words. She saw love and passion in his dark eyes.

  Landon asked, “When did you realize that you love me?”

  Liza sighed and thought about her words before she answered, “I’ve felt drawn to you for a long time. You have held a special place in my life for months. I didn’t want to take money from you. I just wanted to spend all my time with you. I couldn’t allow myself to wonder why. Then tonight, when you let Warren join us, I knew. I wanted you to make love to me. If he had tried to enter me, I would have shoved him away. But, I knew your touch and your body. So I welcomed you in. Warren is a wonderful friend and I love him for it, but I am so in love with you that I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  “Does that mean you’ll marry me?” Landon’s face pleaded for a positive answer.

  “I will eventually. I need to go to medical school and find a different way to pay for it. I have to stop being a call girl if I want to be a wife. I want you to be proud of me.” Liza hid her face from Landon.

  He lifted her chin and kissed her lips before saying, “I can’t wait all those years to marry you. There’s no reason you can’t go to medical school and still be my wife. I’m already proud of you for all the good things you’ve done for your family, for saving Warren, for wanting to give children a better life, and most of all for fighting those men for your own life tonight. Money’s not a concern. I’ve got this. Marry me now, please.”

  “I can’t take all that money from you. I’ll feel like I’m still a call girl,” Liza argued.

  “You can pay me back by raising our children to be just as kind and caring as you,” Landon replied.

  Liza nodded as happy tears streamed down her face. She pulled herself together and asked, “What about Warren? I don’t want to hurt him. My wish would be to keep him as our friend, but I’m afraid this will push him away.”

  Landon began to laugh. He said, “I don’t think Warren will be a problem. If I’m not mistaken, he’s met his match in Marcia. She took one look at him and cast a net. She has him and I doubt she’ll ever let him go. She’s one tough little package and Warren’s already smitten. We have another friend now. Our lives are working out just fine.”

  Liza wasn’t quite as sure as Landon. She wanted to question her new friend to see if she was good enough for Warren. If she wasn’t, then Liza might have to use her new martial arts skills to save Warren once again. Until then, she intended to prove to Landon how much she loved him. She put both hands on his face and pulled him in for a kiss full of promises.

  THE END


  Bonus 12 of 20

  Love in Troubled Times

  Description

  Samantha Biscune can't go on living like this much longer. The loneliness and sadness continues to eat at her. She finds herself working as an assistant reporter even though she has her degrees in journalism. She wants to escape the rut that she finds herself in and what better way but to fall in love. Unfortunately, she feels that luck in both her professional and romantic lives are out of reach for her.

  Her big break comes when her boss tells her to report on the breaking news of an alien race living among humans. She goes to the home of Colin Rafferty, a big-wig in real estate in the San Francisco Bay area and the purported leader of an ancient alien race. She's been waiting for the biggest story of her career. And this just might be it.

  Colin Rafferty is the member of an ancient alien race. For hundreds of years, they have lived in harmony with human beings. Yet tensions have always simmered beneath the surface. And lately this land seems more and more inhospitable to his people.

  He spent most of his days rolling around in bed, closing six and seven figure dollar deals by the bay. San Francisco. Yep, some of the most expensive real estate in the world. It's a playground to him. And he most enjoys playing with women.

  But all that is about to change when he locks eyes with Samantha. Will he allow her into his world?

  As for Samantha, will getting the story on Colin open a new career path her? Will she lose herself as her heart begins to melt under Colin’s erotic flame? Or Will she retreat from love, choosing solitude and security over love and the possible pain of loss?

  Only Samantha and Colin know the answers to these questions as they struggle with outside forces wanting to do them harm and their own inner struggles of love and desire.

  Chapter 1

  Colin

  He sprung from the bed and stretched his arms in the air. Nearly six hours of sleep. It was more than he had enjoyed in weeks. He felt refreshed.

  After preparing his first cup of espresso, he sauntered out onto the deck. The crisp, morning air coming off the bay sparked his mind. For six years, he’d been waking up to this stunning view. And never, not once, has it ceased to amaze him. No matter how much wealth and luxury hung thick in the air, what most impressed him about the San Francisco was its natural beauty.

  Damn morning wood! He reached down and squeezed the tingling rod. All work and no play keeps the soldier hard all day. He shook his head and laughed. He’d neglected his virile member choosing instead to direct that energy toward closing more seven-figure condo deals by the waterfront. He usually abstained from sexual play while working on big deals—and that’s all he was doing these days. With women around it was so damn easy to get distracted and forget about what’s important. Winning. Winning. Winning. There was nothing like it. It was the only reason to be alive. Whenever he competed against human beings, he always felt like he would come out on top. That's how Colin had been raised. In the old-style. The proud style. When life was more demanding. Before his race had begun to really gain a foothold in society. These days Colin and others like him were only supposed to think about how they could work together with humans, how they could completely integrate into human society.

  After dressing, he headed downstairs. He nodded at the two pimply faced college kids behind the condo desk.

  “Hi, Mr. Swartz. Have a great day Mr. Swartz.”

  The building owner’s sons. They were his eyes and ears. What they saw was just as important as what they didn't see, or at least what they pretended not to see. They were often good sources of intel, for those occasions when a stranger was snooping around in the lobby asking the wrong questions. And they also knew how to clam up quick, if some woman from his past or present, started poking around.

  Every few weeks, he made sure to slide them a white envelope or two. Keep the gears greased. And the oil right. No sense waiting for something bad to happen before you started shelling out cash. It was that little bit of extra help that a man in his sometimes delicate positions needs. There would never be enough allies. And the enemies would continue to spawn daily.

  As he stepped out into the sunlight, he lowered his shades. Another scorcher. He could already feel the sun tickling his skin.

  Tires skidded. A door swung open. his badass ride shined and purred. This bitch was ready to take on the world with him. She didn’t care how rough he rode her, how far he pushed her past her supposed limits. She never flinched when he threw her headlong into danger. He slid into the cockpit. The door slammed shut and the lights flared. He reached out and gripped the steering wheel. He revved the engine several times and then zoomed off into traffic.

  Fifteen minutes later, as he pulled off the A-10, he noticed swirling lights and sirens shooting in his direction. He pulled over to the side of the road, expecting them the past. Much to his surprise, they began slowing down and directing themselves towards him. Within seconds they surrounded him. Directly above him, helicopters—at least two of them—swirled.

  He swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel.

  Chapter 2

  Samantha

  It was one of those days when she was forced to wonder if the world was spinning completely out of control. But she was most concerned with how things were progressing, maybe regressing was the right word, in her own country. Her whole life she had been taught to fight for the underdog. But the fight seemed impossible. Every year it became more difficult for people to survive.

  During the long, brutal and relatively shocking presidential campaign, no one had believed that the loud talking, arrogant, narcissistic bigot running for the highest office was anything but a complete clown. Insane Clown Candidate, they called him. But she glimpsed something different. No matter how often she was told not to take his word seriously or literally, she stayed quiet, biting her tongue as words of rebellion roiled inside of her. He wouldn’t actually do that, they told her. And besides, he's not going to win. He doesn't have a chance.

  Now that he had won, now that he had defied all of his critics and vanquished his enemies, there was no longer anything to laugh about. He was a con man, liar and crook, who skillfully manipulated the anger of average people to finally attain the one position of power that had eluded him.

  Bastard! There was no telling where he would take the country. No telling how many laws would be destroyed for the enrichment of his family and cronies.

  As if she didn't have enough contempt for him, the president spent nearly every day attacking the people in her profession. As a young journalist, she could clearly see the major problems in her industry. It's not quite the heroic profession that it used to be so many years ago. These days it seemed like most people who called themselves journalists spent their time trying to be friends with powerful people, instead of holding them accountable. Most up-and-coming journalists seem desperate to land the next celebrity puff piece. She hated all that stuff. It made her sick. No matter how much she struggled to make a living writing articles, she refused to ever give up her dream of doing serious work—the kind of work that changes people's lives. That kind of work that was remembered years, decades later. Every week Samantha made sure to dust off the awards, she won as an undergraduate and graduate journalism student. What had been the point? At this rate, she would never manage to pay back any of her loans.

  And for some reason, she could never stop believing in the country and in human beings. She greatly enjoyed living around them. Living among them was all that She had ever known. Sure, there were times, far too many lately, when she felt like the last thing that she possibly wanted was to see another human being.

  She stared out the window, watching the smoke stack spit into the air. Pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to even afford living in this area. Sex and cash. She had heard about this theory. It was all the rage among young artist, the millennial creative types. This theory basically advised you not to get so damn attracted and rooted to how you think that you’re wonderful, compr
omise free artistic career is supposed to turn. Certain jobs “cash” you worked in order to pay the bills, eat and generally handled the basic shit that kept you from you getting kicked out onto the street. She guessed for someone coming up in her line of work this would have meant chasing down those very celebrity puff pieces that she so despised.

  So many writers wasted their energy and enthusiasm chasing just those kinds of stories. And even if you did write something that happened to go viral, then what? It wasn’t your voice that people had paid for. Your purpose was to celebrate the rich and famous, fawn, worship and grovel at their feet as if you were some worthless serf.

  They were the winners. You were a mere loser. Follow them. Favorite them. Like them. Retweet them. Buy the products they buy.

  As you might be able to tell, I’ve never cared much for the rich and famous, the prissy and the privileged. That disdain probably came from her father—a gruff whiskey drinking, cigar smoking, Union man. She used to listen to angry but insightful ranting, sitting at his feet, staring up into his whiskey reddened face with nothing but complete admiration and love.

  When she came home from Berkeley after freshman year and declared that she wanted to be a muckraking journalist, she expected him to be thrilled. Instead, he seemed rather disappointed and confused. His living room political diatribes had been her inspiration. He had taught her to mistrust the corporations that sought to wreak such havoc on ordinary people.