Only In His Sweetest Dreams (Secret Dreams Book 2)

by Dani Collins

  He looked away, profile flinching. “Yeah, that would screw things up for you with the kids if I take Zack, wouldn’t it?”

  She touched the side of his face, forcing him to look at her, to see this had nothing to do with his son and everything to do with him. “Don’t be an idiot.”

  A muscle pulsed in his jaw, like he was fighting within himself. He lowered his head, stole one kiss, started to pull back.

  She drew him back down, kissing him. Telegraphing that this was all about him. She pushed her fingers into his hair and opened her mouth under his and urged him to kiss her the way she knew he could.

  His breath hissed in and he gathered her up, shifting to set her on the counter, sending dishes rattling into the sink.

  She didn’t look and neither did he, both of them too caught up in the deep, deep kiss. Both of them running hands over every place they could reach. God, he felt good. His touch felt needy, shaping her back and hips and thighs and his body felt better, his flesh dense and strong under warm satin skin.

  When he pulled the elastic of her summer dress top aside, exposing her breast, she let him, turned on by the way he drew back to watch his hand shape her pale, freckled flesh. He lightly pinched her nipple, then rubbed his thumb over and around it.

  “I want to fuck you so bad. So hard. It’s all I think about,” he said in a rasp before ducking to suck her nipple and causing her to nearly levitate.

  “Me too.” She pinched her knees into his waist, wanting him closer. Wanting him there.

  Her heart felt like it was going to explode from her chest. She got her hand under the armhole of his shirt, dragged with her other hand to lift the bottom of his T-shirt so she could touch his chest.

  He jerked upright, threw off his shirt, and pulled her close for a fresh kiss, her damp nipple pressing into his hot chest, the skin on skin contact so delicious she squirmed.

  She gave him her tongue in an erotic curling tease, wanting his and sucking when he gave it to her.

  He growled. His hand went up the inside of her thigh, fingers delving under the leg of her shorts. He made another noise of masculine pleasure when the backs of his fingers met damp cotton. Under they went, sliding in her slick folds, parting and—

  Her hips jerked as he found her clit.

  He dropped his arm around her hips, holding her still for his caress, nipping at her mouth as he circled and teased. “Like it?” he asked between kisses. “Wanna come?”

  “Yes,” she sobbed, spreading her legs further, wanting so bad to take this to the bedroom so they could fuck each other blind, but the dancing tingles he was producing were so beguiling. She tipped her head back, gasping for breath. “That feels so good.”

  “I never thought I’d get here. I want to watch you come, but I want to go slow, make it last.”

  “L.C., I’m dying,” she moaned, clasping his head and bringing his mouth to hers, painting her tongue across his lips and sucking his bottom lip as he kept up that slow stroke that was holding her in a state of insane pleasure.

  “Then I want to eat you,” he whispered against her panting lips. “I want to lick you like this, so you keep getting wetter and wetter.”

  She was clenching on nothing, so aroused she couldn’t think anything, but Yes. Here. Now.

  A bicycle bell sounded.

  Shoving him back a step, she dropped off the counter and headed into the bathroom, frantically trying to straighten her top. Closing the door, she flushed the empty toilet then ran cold water and splashed it on her face.

  In the kitchen, she heard L.C. rattling the dishes, running water. The sliding door opened. Zack asked where she was.

  “Bathroom,” he replied, adding, “We’re staying.”

  While she buried her glittering eyes in her cold, wet hands.

  Chapter 14

  The next morning, Mercedes wiped her damp palm on her hip before knocking on Mrs. Garvey’s door.

  She really didn’t have time for a showdown. L.C. thought she could be in the Fairmont duplex within the week and she had a mountain of packing, not to mention the accompanying scrubbing, paperwork, and utility changeovers. L.C. seemed willing to write off the unpleasantness with the senior, claiming he didn’t give a damn what Edith Garvey thought or said about him.

  Amazing what one kiss could do.

  Well, more than a kiss, but recalling exactly what they’d done was reserved for private moments when she could handle the build up that hadn’t released. Dear God, that man.

  Mercedes shook off dirty fantasies and focused. She wasn’t about to ignore what Mrs. Garvey had done. It was...well, it was wrong.

  Behind the door, there was the sound of a television being turned down, soft footsteps, then Mrs. Garvey opened the door. “Mercedes,” she said with surprise.

  “Hello, Mrs. Garvey. Could I speak with you for a moment?”

  Mrs. Garvey blinked and stopped widening the door. She glanced hesitantly beyond Mercedes.

  “Ayjia is at the Maxwells. Their granddaughter is visiting. And Dayton is playing catch with the Fogartys. I’d like to speak to you about L.C., actually.”

  Mrs. Garvey’s brows jumped and her mouth pursed. She opened the door and stood back.

  Mercedes entered, noting Mrs. Garvey’s organized start on packing: neatly labeled boxes of uniform sizes. Nothing like the heaping liquor store boxes Mercedes was filling willy-nilly.

  Mrs. Garvey had her priceless antique mantel clock flat on a stack of open newspaper. The face was cracked, but that only increased the conversation value of the piece since the damage had occurred when Mrs. Garvey’s mother had lived in London during World War II.

  “L.C. thinks the duplex will be ready by the end of the week. You should be starting your own move into the apartment downstairs by Sunday,” Mercedes said.

  “Then I’ll have to get used to things being back to front,” Mrs. Garvey said, referring to the mirror-image layout of Mercedes’s apartment compared to this one. “And my afternoons won’t be as peaceful.”

  When the kids hit the water with Zack, Mercedes assumed she meant. She bit back a ‘why move then’ comment, but Mrs. Garvey was still her employer and Mercedes wanted to keep this civil and professional.

  “Would you like tea?” Mrs. Garvey wrapped her hands around the kettle.

  “No, thank you. Ayjia expects me. I just wanted to give you these documents. They prove L.C. had nothing to do with the fire.” Mercedes set the copies on the corner of Mrs. Garvey’s counter. “He deserves an apology, Mrs. Garvey.”

  “For?”

  “Your gossip about him.”

  Her fingertips found the hollow of her loose-skinned throat. “I only repeated what he said to me. He took a rude, threatening, confrontational tone and it was completely uncalled for.”

  “Was it?” Mercedes folded her arms, unable to stop the tight censure from creeping into her tone.

  “That man is insulting. He has no regard for authority.”

  “He’s in a position to sue.”

  “He would not dare.” Mrs. Garvey’s voice shook with anger. She quickly stuck out her sharp-boned hand. “Wait. I take that back. That is exactly the kind of opportunistic reaction I would expect from a man like him.”

  “Well, there’s the difference between you and I, Mrs. Garvey, because I think L.C. is the last person to waste time on something like that.” Scorn curled her lip.

  “Oh, Mercedes,” she said with a fall of disappointment in her voice. “Here I’ve been defending you, assuring people you would never consort with the likes of him. You told me yourself you place too much importance on how the children would perceive it.”

  “There is nothing going on between me and L.C.” Mercedes said, but couldn’t hold her gaze.

  Mrs. Garvey retorted with a superior sounding sniff.

  Oh, as if everything were simple black and white. Here she was, struggling, clinging by her fingernails to keep an impossible situation for spinning completely out of her control, and Mrs
. Garvey had the nerve to say, “You’re not the woman I thought you were, Mercedes.”

  “Well, you’re not the woman I thought you were,” Mercedes snapped, losing her temper. “Dayton’s having trouble at school and I thought about asking you to assess him, but I’ll be damned if I’ll leave him with someone who thinks it’s okay to hurt people. You hurt L.C., Mrs. Garvey. You judged him before you knew him and that’s wrong. You are in the wrong.”

  And there went her job.

  In an admirable example of higher conduct, Mercedes stalked out, too horrified by her own loss of control to look back and hear the axe fall.

  Edith had observed that Mondays tended to be very busy for Mercedes, so she waited to speak to her until Tuesday. She had decided against speaking to the board about the words they’d exchanged. It was between her and Mercedes and the fact was, it distressed her deeply that the incident had occurred at all. She had felt an affinity with Mercedes from the first interview, when Mercedes had offered the information she might someday marry, but they needn’t worry about maternity leaves because she wasn’t able to have children.

  That was one reason this whole custody nonsense had taken her by such surprise. Still, if Mercedes would only see that it hadn’t been spite that had prompted this misunderstanding, but a desire to protect the young woman from a dreadful misjudgment. Edith hoped to somehow explain that as she followed Mercedes down the hall to the sunroom, carrying her manila envelope stuffed with a peace offering.

  Mercedes carried a file folder and startled when she realized who was behind her.

  “I, um, didn’t realize you were there, Mrs. Garvey,” she said stiffly.

  “Yes, well, I was hoping for a moment of your time.”

  A tinny, Yankee Doodle Dandy tune emanated from Mercedes’s skirt pocket.

  “I’m sorry, that might be Porsha. I left her a voice mail earlier.” Mercedes extracted her cell phone and answered.

  The tone of a distinctly male voice spoke. Edith couldn’t hear the words, but suspected she knew who it was by the smile that painted itself across Mercedes’ features.

  “Aren’t you finishing my laundry room? Let him in.” Mercedes flashed a slightly culpable look toward Edith, then turned and began removing outdated notices from the bulletin board. “Well stop that and finish my laundry room. I left the door unlocked so you could get in.” A pause, then, “Okay, then let the cable guy in, finish installing your dishwasher, then do my laundry room. Otherwise, the kids will be going to school naked.”

  He responded with something that made her chortle with enjoyment. Mercedes never sounded like that, throaty and coquettish.

  Edith straightened a few books on the shelf, not wanting to listen in, but hoping Mercedes would wrap this up in short order. Even if they couldn’t see eye to eye on Mr. Fogarty, Edith wanted to give her the items for Dayton.

  “Wait.” Mercedes tucked the phone into her neck so she could use two hands to remove the next poster. “I need your advice. One of Dayton’s new friends wants him to come over after school. I put in a call to Porsha, but even if she calls back, she’ll probably say something like, ‘If you can unload him for a few hours, then, duh.’ But how do I know these people aren’t cult freaks?”

  Kudos to Mercedes for entertaining sensible doubts. It was the sort of sound judgment the young woman generally showed, but if she was asking That Man for advice, she was tapping a dry well.

  Mercedes giggled again. “So you think they have their own website? Like, with a membership list? See, this is why I ask you. You’re so much more in touch with these things than I am.”

  He had obviously made a ridiculous suggestion. It was exactly the sort of rejoinder she expected him to offer. Edith couldn’t help a sniff of disapproval.

  Mercedes glanced over as if she’d just remembered she had someone waiting on her. “Would you be serious?” she asked. “Dayton really wants to go and I don’t know anything about these people.” A pause. “I’m not inviting myself for tea.” Another chuckle. “Or beer. I’m serious. The sooner you give me straight advice— Really? Just tell his mom I’m coming for tea. People do that?”

  Edith absently alphabetized the heavy, dated encyclopedias, loathe to admit the advice wasn’t terrible.

  “Would you do that?” A hearty laugh. “I’m not the connoisseur you are, but yeah, I guess she’s pretty hot.”

  Edith gave up. The man was incorrigible. She felt like an eavesdropper, listening to this banter. Especially because there was something beneath the laughter that, for her, held a throat-tightening familiarity. Friendship. Honest regard.

  Collecting her manila envelope, she left, hearing Mercedes behind her. “Okay, I’m hanging up. Finish my laundry room.”

  Edith didn’t stop. She had more thinking to do about whose judgment was flawed.

  L.C. was making notes on the receipts he was leaving on Mercedes desk when a quietly cleared throat pulled his gaze up to Edith Garvey’s constipated expression.

  “If you would please accept this, Mr. Fogarty.” She held out an envelope.

  He might be a redneck from backwoods Washington, but he knew expensive stationary when he saw it. That off-white paper was lawyer quality.

  “Birthday invitation?” he drawled, making no move to take it.

  Garvey’s cheeks pinked, but she straightened her spine. “An apology, sir. I regret any unpleasant moments I may have caused you.” Clearing her throat again, she set the envelope on the desk, nodded once, and bolted as fast as her orthopedic lace-ups could take her.

  Well. Wasn’t this a day for big, freakin’ surprises. L.C. reached for the envelope.

  Friday, with help from L.C. and Zack, Mercedes shifted all her possessions and both kids from her apartment to the duplex. It smelled of paint and new carpet, yet she immediately relaxed. The extra room meant she wasn’t tripping over the kids and the location meant they could play outside without disturbing the residents.

  She and L.C. hadn’t finished what they’d started, but the memory of what they’d shared was in his eyes every time he looked at her. To escape it, she asked him to watch the kids for a few minutes while she took her apartment keys to Mrs. Garvey.

  Not that meeting the senior’s defensive gaze was any easier to meet than the playfulness in L.C.’s eyes, but the ice had to be broken eventually.

  “I’ve booked the cleaners for tomorrow morning, then the movers will come in the afternoon,” Mercedes said when Mrs. Garvey answered her knock. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about having the bedroom painted. There’s time to arrange it, since this apartment isn’t needed for another week and a half.” Mercedes pointed at the floor of Mrs. Garvey’s near-bare apartment.

  “No, no. I remembered I have another comforter, one with yellow roses, so the yellow walls are fine.” Mrs. Garvey moved from the door to her kitchen. “Would you like tea?”

  “I would stay,” Mercedes said, trying to be sincere, following her in and closing the door, “but I should get back to the kids and unpacking. Thank you, though. I, um, don’t have your way with words or I would have written you a proper apology for saying what I did the other day.”

  Mrs. Garvey cleared her throat and folded a tea towel into a neat square on the counter, not looking up.

  “I mean, L.C. was quite...touched...that you took the time to write.” He’d been flabbergasted and had asked how he should respond. Thank you card? They still weren’t sure. “Anyway, I shouldn’t have said you were a poor example for Dayton. You’re obviously an excellent one.”

  “Yes, well, I had no idea the boy was struggling in school, Mercedes. I hope you know I’m more than happy to help in any way. Would you like me to tutor him?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “You needn’t pay me.”

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say. I mean, of course I can pay you, only, I just wanted to ask your opinion on where he’s at. The school seems to think he’s lagging and given his situation, it’s no wonder. Tutor
ing is a lot to ask though. I doubt he’d welcome it.”

  “Of course he won’t. Few children overwhelmed by the demands of school want to take on more work. However, one-on-one attention is usually the answer and he’ll be even less cooperative at twelve. Now is the time to address it. In fact...” She trailed off as she moved into her living room.

  Mercedes followed to see Mrs. Garvey lift a thick envelope from her coffee table.

  “After you brought the problem to my attention, I took the liberty of gathering a few resources from my old files.” She considered the envelope. “I intended to give this to you, but why don’t you bring him by one evening next week. We’ll go from there.”

  Mercedes figured she ought to be feeling some misgivings, but was actually falling apart with relief. This was help, honest to God help from a qualified, grade school teacher. A retired one, sure, but one who knew the three R’s and who wanted to put time into Dayton rather than medication.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Garvey. As soon as we’re both settled.” Mercedes wanted to hug the woman, but settled for smiling brightly.

  Mercedes knew her defense of L.C. and subsequent backing of Edith Garvey into an apologetic corner had circulated the complex like a flu virus. If there really was a betting pool on her romance with L.C.—and she would bet any money there was—the squares were filling up faster than ever. She had no desire to fuel it by staging side shows in the courtyard with L.C., so when the pool needed attention Sunday, she asked Zack to accompany her for a diagnostic review.

  “I know exactly what’s wrong,” she told him as she removed the lock she’d placed on the gate. “And I can call the pool man to fix it, but you and your dad can probably take care of it. You just have to lock off the power and fish out whatever is stuck in the suction system. It’s usually a bathing suit.”

  “‘Scuse me?” Zack said, dark brows lifting into his hairline.