Mr. Forever

by Sara Daniel

  “I got your perfume.” She thrust a brown bottle over her head in a triumphant fist and sashayed by him into his room. For once she didn’t act a bit self-conscious or nervous, which was surprising considering she’d entered his bedroom while he wore nothing but a towel.

  “That was what couldn’t wait until I was dressed? I thought you were burning down the building or some other real emergency.”

  Penelope froze and her gazed dropped to the towel riding low on his hips. Her unfettered excitement turned to a look of near-horror. “I didn’t think about you not being dressed. I just wanted to get this to you before you put your other cologne on.”

  “Do you really think I would wear it after what you said?” Rotting fish. A cross-dresser. He shuddered at the memory of her stinging condemnation. He was a man of good taste. He understood that image mattered. And that definitely wasn’t the image he wanted her to carry around.

  She backed toward the door. Her eyes still hadn’t risen to his face, although her dismay had faded, replaced by a look of awe he felt ridiculously pleased to have inspired. He hoped his towel stayed secure, or she was going to get a lot more awe than either of them anticipated.

  “Why don’t we try out that perfume?” He reached for the bottle. “You can tell me if it smells as good on me as it does in the lab.”

  She held the bottle tightly in her fist. “I’m not sniffing you like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Without a shirt on.”

  “My chest offends you?” He knew it didn’t. She obviously liked what she saw.

  “How could your body possibly offend me?” Her wide-eyed gaze finally traveled up to his face. She was so refreshing Ethan wished he could bottle her essence and spray it on the other women who’d come and gone from his life as if he were nothing to them.

  He stepped toward her and she immediately backed up, bumping into the closet door. He threw up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to get a shirt from the closet.”

  “I’ll give you privacy to get dressed.” She lunged for the door.

  “Don’t you want to give me the perfume first? You woke up early to get it to me.”

  “I haven’t gone to sleep yet. I worked all night on this. I just finished it.” Her hands absently caressed the bottle.

  “You worked all night to make something for me?” He stepped toward her, trying to resist the overwhelming urge to gather her in his arms.

  She looked embarrassed. “I wanted you to have it as soon as possible.”

  His chest ached at the sweetness of her gesture. He eased the bottle from her fingers. “Then I’ll put it on right away.” He aimed for his neck and then thought better of it. She was intimidated enough that she’d already tried to dash out the door. He squirted some on his wrist and held it up for her to smell. “Here, you don’t have to get too close.”

  She met his gaze. “You haven’t put a shirt on yet.”

  It seemed silly to bother now that she’d looked her fill. “Surely, you’ve seen a naked wrist before.”

  Her gaze fell away and settled on the end of his arm. Her shoulders were tense and her moves jerky, as if he’d asked her to do something horribly distasteful. Maybe he had. Just because she liked looking at him didn’t mean she had any desire for physical contact.

  “Lift your arm higher,” she said.

  He braced his hand against the wall next to the door so that his wrist was level with her nose. He wouldn’t make her touch him until he could pinpoint the cause of her aversion.

  She stuck her nose against his wrist. Her deep inhale prickled the skin on his arm. She wiggled around a little, breathing in again.

  Ethan stared at her backside. A small hole in the right cheek of her jeans revealed the pale pink fabric of her panties. He groaned and pulled his arm away as he turned his back on her. He focused on keeping his towel together and not letting her see his physical reaction underneath it. “What’s the verdict?”

  “You won’t be cross-dressing anymore.” There was a smirk in her voice.

  He looked over his shoulder at her. She was pleased with her concoction. The knowledge fueled his arousal. “What will I be doing?”

  “Sniffing yourself.” She ran out the door.

  He did exactly as she predicted.

  “I’m sorry I tied your shoes to the chair and made you fall and hit your head, Dr. Paden,” Austin said in a subdued, little boy voice.

  What kind of torture do you have planned for me next? Since he wasn’t prepared to deal with the answer to that question, Caleb simply said, “Apology accepted.”

  “I won’t tie your shoes to the chair ever again,” he continued, scrunching his face up as if trying to remember more parts to his speech.

  “Or the table either, I hope,” Caleb added for his own protection.

  “Or to each other.” Olivia joined them in the dining room, confirming his suspicions of a coached speech.

  “I won’t.” Austin shifted from one foot to another. “Can I play with my Legos now?”

  “No Legos until Tuesday, remember?” Her voice was gentle but firm.

  “But I apologized.” He kicked the table leg.

  “That doesn’t mean your punishment goes away. You can color.”

  “Coloring is dumb.”

  “That’s too bad.” Unsympathetic, she began clearing away the dishes from their Sunday lunch.

  Austin glared at them both for a moment, and then stomped out of the room.

  “You could have given him a break,” Caleb said.

  “Sure, I could, and then he’d know his actions have no consequences. Tossing around an ‘I’m sorry’ that he doesn’t really mean isn’t enough. Maybe he’ll think twice about doing it again if he knows he won’t get to play with his favorite toy for a couple days.” Olivia was proving herself to be a parent with follow-through. He was surprised to find it in someone who’d lacked the follow-through on her marriage vows.

  “Will he take his frustration out on you later?”

  She gave him a faintly amused expression. “Of course he will. I’m his mother. He’ll ask a dozen more times before Tuesday to play with the forbidden toys and he’ll get angry with me each time I say no.”

  “Why do you put up with it?”

  “If I don’t, who will?” She shrugged as she gathered up the cloth napkins from each place setting. “Besides, he should feel comfortable enough with me to fall apart when he doesn’t get his way. He’s barely six.”

  “You’re making excuses for him.”

  She didn’t take offense. “Sometimes being a child is a legitimate excuse. I love it when he’s on his best behavior, but when the worst comes out, I’d rather have it directed at me than anyone else.”

  Austin’s childhood was not identical to Caleb’s. That was a good thing for Austin but left Caleb wondering about the universal experience of children raised in a single parent household. Clearly, he was doing Olivia a disservice by categorizing her with his mother.

  He offered an olive branch. “Children — First Priority is the title of my latest book. It is about children within the context of a marriage. I’m going to write a follow-up book completely dedicated to child rearing. I’d like your opinion on the basics of my outline before I flesh out the details.”

  “You want to give me pointers, in other words.” She squeezed a napkin in her fist and glared at him. “You are unbelievably condescending.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  She advanced on him, fury in every step. “You’ve never been married, but you condemn me for not making mine work. You didn’t know your son existed for the first three months of his life, but you think you can teach me how to raise mine. As of three days ago, you’d never changed a diaper or picked up a baby, but now you think you’re qualified to write a book on how everyone else should handle their kids.”

  She’d boxed him into the table. Her breath was hot on his neck. Her blue eyes lit his belly on fire. He w
as too captivated to form a thought, let alone an argument against her attack.

  “You go have a perfect marriage and raise a kid without making any mistakes along the way,” she challenged. “Then you can come back and lecture me about my failures.”

  He cupped her chin in his palm. His thought process returned enough for him to give serious consideration to covering her red, alluring lips with his mouth. His muscles ached from the fierce want. “I think you’re doing such a good job with Austin that I want you to give me suggestions.”

  “Oh.” That blew the fire from her eyes. She sagged a little, bringing her body closer to him. “You think I’m doing a good job? Really?”

  “Really.” He bent his head to kiss her, but she shrank away. His lips brushed the tip of her nose as she slithered out of his grasp.

  “The Scot’s Mansion is a professional establishment with a solid reputation carved by my grandmother’s hard work and determination. I don’t involve myself with the guests in any manner that could jeopardize that legacy,” she said with a stiffness that reminded him of himself.

  “So you’re saying that headache rub last night was just another housekeeping amenity?”

  Her cheeks burned crimson, and the fire roared back to life in her eyes. “I apologize for my lack of — ”

  He gathered her in his arms again, despite her resistance. “There was no lack on your part. You did nothing that requires an apology. You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I hadn’t made you stop.”

  She looked surprised by the admission but not nearly as surprised as he felt. He hadn’t meant to admit so much and leave himself emotionally vulnerable.

  Olivia traced her finger very lightly over the round, colorful knot on his forehead. “I’ll read your outline. Just don’t expect my critique to be all nice fluff to spare your ego.”

  He laughed, releasing the sexual tension that had enveloped them. Olivia’s criticism and insightful comments were what he needed to keep his theories fresh. Her challenges would make Forever better and help offset the looming crisis Liam’s existence had caused. “Going out of your way to spare my ego would be treating me with your most professional conduct.”

  She smiled. “Don’t make me like you, Caleb.”

  His chest cramped. “Would that be so bad?” He wanted to kiss her, to swallow her funny little smile and make it a part of him.

  “Very bad,” she said, breaking away again. He knew she was talking about more than just liking each other.

  Chapter 10

  Penelope had no clue if the 1:37 on her nightstand clock indicated morning or night. She stumbled from her bed into the lab, hating the disorientation that plagued her when she woke from a nap.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I didn’t think you were down here.”

  She blinked. Ethan was standing in her basement across the table from her. Once again, he was witnessing her at her worst. “What are you doing?”

  “I brought your payment. I’d planned to leave it on the table.” Unlike the last time she’d seen him, he was dressed. Crisp jeans and a blue sweater over a white collared shirt gave him an Ivy League polish. She personally preferred the low-slung towel look.

  “Payment for what?” She held out her hand. If it was income, she’d take it.

  “For my perfume. It was awesome. I’ve never smelled anything like it.”

  She took the money quickly and stepped back. She had to brush her teeth before he got a whiff of her morning breath. She had no idea when she’d last combed her hair. She probably had lines on her cheek from the creases on her pillowcase. On the plus side, she wasn’t wearing a rubber apron or her Dorks-R-Us goggles.

  “Is the price fair? I’d cheerfully pay more, but I wanted you to take my amount seriously.” He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.

  She glanced down. He’d given her a check. “Couldn’t you just give me cash? Now I have to make a trip to the bank to cash this thing. Surely, you have a twenty in your well-padded pocket.”

  “Look at the amount before you spout off, Penelope.” He sounded more amused than irritated by her petty gripes.

  She should have been happy with any income that came her way. She looked down at the paper in her hand and rubbed her eyes to make them focus. He’d written a check for five hundred dollars. She traced her finger over the numbers, trying to convince herself what she was seeing was real.

  Five-zero-zero.

  Holy smokes.

  “Did you have a lobotomy?”

  He grinned. “You told me to pay you what I thought your perfume was worth. You’re just entering the market and you need to build your client base, so I gave myself a break.”

  “You paid me more than it was worth to make me feel better.” This wasn’t income. This was Ethan’s way of donating to charity. She had no choice but to rip the check to shreds.

  “I paid you less than it was worth. Once your client base is solid, you could start charging a grand, at least.”

  She continued to stare at the money in her hand. “You paid me five hundred dollars for an eight-ounce bottle of perfume.” She was still convinced he must have made a mistake or she was missing a vital piece of what else she owed him that would make this ridiculous dollar amount suddenly appear reasonable.

  “That’s another thing. Cut down the size while you up the price. No more than four ounces in a bottle. Make two the standard.”

  She groped backwards until she found a chair. “You’re just making this up so you can convince me I need a marketing guy. Next, you’ll insist that person has to be you, and then you’ll hit me with how much you expect for a salary and you’ll get your money back a hundred times over.”

  He didn’t look insulted or even ruffled by her prediction. “You do need a marketing guy. Or lady, if she would make you more comfortable.”

  She shook her head. The gender of the marketing department hardly mattered. Either way, sophisticated socially adept people would take the control of her business and turn it into what they thought it should be. She would become uncomfortable, out of place and ultimately irrelevant to her own dream. “Your suggestions sound wonderful, but they’re not for me.”

  He advanced toward her. “Do you want to make your living creating and selling custom perfumes?”

  “I already do.”

  “You call this a living?” He spread his arms and sneered at her cheap lab furnishings, stud walls that had never been plastered, and charred toaster table.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re afraid of success.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t expect him to understand. The roadblocks for her were the parties, the public events, and the notoriety. He would bask in those things, not run from them. Just thinking about mingling and talking to strangers, she shriveled inside. She folded the check and slid it in her back pocket. “Thank you for believing in me, Ethan. I’ll treasure it.”

  “But you’re going to blow off everything else I said.” He was ruffled now, angry even, but as gorgeous as ever.

  “I have to do things my way.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped to her feet. She was at too much of a disadvantage to compound it by sitting while he was standing. But standing brought her closer to a whole lot more of his body. And oh, he smelled good. Sexy. Erotic. The perfume was only a small part of it.

  “Try things my way. You’ll like it.” He lowered his mouth to her.

  He was going to kiss her. She still hadn’t brushed her teeth. She scrambled backwards, tripping over the chair. She flailed her arms as she fell to her knees. She bent her head, fervently wishing for the floor to swallow her, as she rubbed her palms over her stinging kneecaps.

  “I didn’t tie your shoes to the chair, I swear,” Ethan said, crouching next to her.

  She laughed in spite of her utter humiliation. She’d tripped over a chair, trying to escape a kiss from the sexiest man in the world. She must have had a lobotomy while she was sleeping.

 
He rubbed his hand over her back. “My kisses are nothing to run from.”

  “Is my brother bothering you?” Caleb interrupted.

  Penelope hadn’t heard him approach. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed at his presence.

  “Of course he’s bothering me. He doesn’t seem capable of anything else.” She stuck out her tongue at Ethan before she realized how immature the gesture was.

  “Some lady just came over and insisted she wants to spend time with Liam for a couple hours. Maude somebody.”

  “Maude Richardson. She’s a neighbor,” Penelope explained. “She thinks of Liam as her grandchild. He’s in good hands with her.”

  “Yes, well, if you have some time while she’s watching Liam, we can finish that perfume we were working on.” Caleb was, no doubt, incapable of ever being childish or immature.

  Penelope wanted to tell him how much Ethan had paid her for his perfume and ask if he’d be willing to match the price. She didn’t. She wasn’t that immature.

  “I’d love to see your process too,” Ethan said.

  No way could she concentrate on her work with him around.

  “You promised to go sledding, and Austin and Olivia are getting ready to go out now,” Caleb reminded him.

  “I’ll leave you alone this afternoon.” Ethan’s eyes gleamed with a danger she couldn’t ignore. “Tonight I’ll bring food downstairs. We’ll have a business dinner.”

  “And if I decline?” It wasn’t quite the forceful “no way” she hoped would come out when she opened her mouth.

  “We can jump right to the hot sex.” He sauntered off. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned around and stuck out his tongue at her. She clamped her hand over her mouth before she laughed out loud. The afternoon with Caleb stretched out before her. She needed to brush her teeth and change out of yesterday’s clothes before Ethan returned.

  “My brother has trouble understanding the world has more than one type of woman,” Caleb said, misinterpreting Ethan’s facetious comment. “I’ll talk to him for you.”

  “I can handle him.” That was the biggest lie she’d ever told. Anyone in their right mind could see it. “I have some pressing business I need to work on this afternoon. Maybe we can finish your perfume the next time Maude comes over.”