by Lisa Wells
She ignored his demand and slipped out of the tent before he could grab her.
Her shorts did little to cover the most beautiful set of cheeks he’d ever seen on a woman. She was so beautiful. A breathtaking sight. Would he ever be satisfied with size two women and all of their emaciated edges again? He slipped out of the tent and breathed in the fresh air.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked, with a husky edge to her voice.
Fog was rolling in and shrouding everything in mystery, including her. “Yes, you are.”
She turned around and looked at him. “The river, silly. I’m talking about the river.”
“Oh. Well, it’s nice, but it is nothing compared to you.” He picked up a stick and poked at the embers from last night’s fire. He watched her from the corner of his eye, so he knew to move when she threw a pebble at him.
“You are a very smooth Texan,” she accused him.
“It comes with the territory of being a good ol’ boy. We’re born knowing how to be smooth.”
“I bet you are.” She walked back to the camp and poked at the embers with him. When they were going good, she stuck the coffee pot on the grate. A spark popped and caught her finger. “Ouch,” she shrieked, and popped her finger in her mouth.
Covey couldn’t have lost his air quicker had he been sucker punched by a sumo wrestler. The sight of her in pain caused pain in him, deep in his chest. He closed his eyes to calm his pulses. Opening them, he took her hand, pulled her finger out of her mouth, and reigned kisses all over the red spot. “Are you okay?” There was something about her which engaged his heart at every turn.
“Yeah, guess I’m just a little rattled this morning.”
“Mmmm. You’re capable of being rattled? That’s nice to know.” He was feeling pretty rattled himself.
“I only get rattled when I haven’t had my coffee.” She pulled her hand out of his and placed it behind her back.
“Where are the cups? I’ll pour us some jo when it’s ready,” he said, in an attempt to regain his own composure.
Lacey pointed to a tub and inhaled the fragrant smell of coffee. “Coffee always tastes better on a riverbank don’t you think?” she said.
“Mmm. Mmm. So, what’s on the agenda for today?” he asked. He’d not had coffee on a riverbank since he was ten. He poured them a cup. Come to think of it, he hadn’t had coffee then either. He was too young. This was the first time he’d had coffee on a riverbank.
“Another fantasy, of course,” Lacey told him.
He took a gulp of his coffee. “I’m not sure I’ll survive any more of your fantasies.” He gave her a teasing grin and rubbed his sore back.
“This one you’ll like. It takes place at a lovely bed and breakfast. It could quite possibly involve a king-size bed.”
Little Miss Fantasy Coordinator in a bed. She had his attention. “That doesn’t sound too bad. How do we get to this joint?” Covey looked around at the campsite and saw no easy exit. Were they going to have to paddle out of this place?
“Why we float, of course. Not far, but far enough.”
The river water was smooth as glass, at the moment. Would it stay still? “And then?” How many times would they be thrown into the water by his lack of paddling skills, before they arrived at their pick-up spot?
“Then, we’ll drive about fifty miles up the road to a wonderful little cottage.”
“If it has a shower and food, let’s get going. I’m starved.” He wasn’t really starved. He just wanted to get the hard part of the day out of the way. If he was starved, it was for Lacey’s body.
“Now? You want to leave now?” she asked.
Is this a trick question? She sounded a little grumpy all of a sudden. “Is there a problem with now?”
“Only, that it’s before I’ve had two cups of coffee? And, it’s before we’ve had a chance for some daylight action in our tent?”
Covey threw his head back and laughed. She knew how to embrace the moment and keep him on his toes.
Lacey placed her hands on her hips and glared.
He gave her a shrug. “I guess we could occupy ourselves in the tent while we wait for the sun to finish rising.”
“You guess? You’re not sure?” she asked, taking a step closer. “I thought you were a he-man,” she taunted.
“Follow me, woman,” he ordered. “I’m going to show you what I’m very sure of,” he said, before turning and marching into the tent.
He heard her snort of affront, before she followed.
“I was thinking we might just try green again. You know, to see how it works and all, in the daylight,” Lacey said behind him as she followed him into the tent.
“Green?” he asked, turning to watch her lips as she answered.
“If I’m going to recommend it to one of my clients for a fantasy, I really should make sure it works,” she said, with an air of innocence.
“If you have more than one of these, I think you should hang on to it for when we wear this one out.”
Chapter 19
“Ohmigod, I never knew green could be done like that.” Lacey was exhausted. A master musician had played her body and it was still humming with the rhythm of his touch. Her orgasm was truly back. No more lying, no more worrying. Ohmigod, was it back.
“If you liked that position, just wait until I get you into a real bed. I’ll show you my favorite,” Covey said, in the voice that left her drunk.
She tried not to drool in pleasure as she looked at him. Her Mr. Wrong was a fraud. There was nothing about him that was a good ol’ boy. His drawl was gone; his insufferable attitude was gone; his intellect was intact. The only thing that kept him in her Mr. Wrong category was his lack of ambition. He was happy playing in hole-in-the-wall bars and barely making ends meet. She was glad for that small favor. She was finally back to normal. Marty was in her past. Her mind was working in the normal range again. She planned on savoring every moment of this stolen weekend from reality, but when it was over, it was over.
Speaking of sex, he was talking as if it could get better than what they’d just had. “Favorite? You mean that wasn’t your favorite? How could that not be your favorite?” She stretched in contentment. At least, very few of his partners would ever be able to compete with her on that move.
“You’ll see. That was just an appetizer. If you’re going to earn the title of trashy, Doll Face, you’re going to need a few unconventional positions added to your repertoire.”
Doll Face. Once in a while, he remembered his mask. Should she tell him she was on to him?
Why do that? Things were working well as they were. They’d both keep their secrets. Although, she couldn’t think of any secrets she had left.
“Then, what are we waiting for?” She sat up straight and grabbed her dry bag. “Help me pack. I have some learning to do.” She grabbed the sack of toys she’d brought with her and shoved them into the bottom of the bag. She paused and looked at him. “My repertoire, as you put it, needs expanding.”
“Your wish is my pleasure.” He grabbed the sack of toys out of her bag and peered inside. “Handcuffs? Why didn’t you tell me you had handcuffs with you? Do you know what I can do with a woman and a pair of handcuffs?”
She eyed him warily. “I’m afraid to ask.” This man was better at the fantasy stuff than she was. She was going to nickname him Covey Kinky James. CKJ for short.
She snatched the small bag out of his hands and stuffed it back into her larger bag without answering.
“You might have to hire me to work in your fantasy agency. I could be your idea man,” he drawled.
Silence fell around them as they gathered up the items in the tent. Is he serious? Was he trying to get her to hire him? Was he after her money? Is that why he came on the show? To find a woman to take care of him? Lacey felt physically sick just thinking it. Was she falling for a con man?
Covey tore down the tent and loaded it while she poured water on the campfire. She tried to shake off the feelin
g of doubt. He didn’t seem like the type to live off a lady. But, why had he brought it up if he wasn’t thinking along those lines? “Covey, we’re still in tune about this weekend aren’t we?” she asked. Mr. Wrong, Mr. Wrong, Mr. Wrong. Got that Valentine?
He stopped loading and looked at her with a frown. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“This is a nostrings-attached weekend. When it’s over, we’re over.”
“Is that what you still want?” he asked evasively.
She shook her head. “Definitely.”
He smiled and gave her a wink. “Then Doll Face I hope you can get enough of me, because I’m going to disappear on the stroke of midnight never to be seen again.”
That is exactly the right thing to say; damn if it doesn’t piss me off that you said it.
They floated down the river in harmony, both sipping on their steaming mugs of coffee and deep in private thoughts.
The float took thirty-five minutes. It was long enough for Lacey to daydream. Her daydreams, unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, starred Covey and herself.
We are not a couple. Remember that. He is my Mr. Wrong, and he can never, never be my Mr. Right.
Of course, the beauty of daydream lovers was there were no rules when choosing one. In fact, the more inappropriate your daydream lover was, the more fun it was to have him.
Covey is definitely inappropriate. Appropriate choices were only required for reality dating.
As long as she didn’t confuse daydream material with reality material, this was a harmless excuse to live on the edge.
It wouldn’t happen, her falling in love with Covey. He wasn’t what she needed in a man. At all. But, to keep things crystal clear in her head, at the first opportunity, she would make a list of all the reasons he was Mr. Wrong.
It wouldn’t do to get fantasy and reality confused. She tangled a finger in her hair and started to twirl. Her imagination often led her down the path to confusion.
“There it is.” Lacey pointed to a riverbank that could barely be seen through the dense fog. There was a smell in the air of leisure and contentment. It was early fall and the trees were dressed in misty layers of multicolored rags. A million dollar painting was there for her and Covey’s private viewing.
A friendly voice interrupted her thoughts. “Howdy. Glad to see you kids made it in one piece.”
It was the same guy who dropped them both off at the river the evening before. Lacey waved at him. “I told you we’d make it,” she announced proudly.
“I have to say, I woke with the roosters worrying about you two last night. Went against my grain, leaving you out there on the river, not knowing if you were okay.” He waded out and pulled their canoe to shore. He was wearing camouflaged bib waders and rubber boots. Under other circumstance, like a stormy night, he would scare the wits out of her.
Lacey hopped out first. He handed her a set of keys to the convertible sitting on the gravel road. She’d rented it ahead of time for this leg of their fantasy weekend.
“I get to drive; I called it first,” Lacey said, holding the keys behind her when Covey grabbed for them.
Stroking his chin, he nodded at her. “You do like getting your dibs on things don’t you?” He dropped an arm around her shoulder and turned her toward the car.
“I got you with dibs didn’t I?” she answered pertly.
His hand slid down to her bottom where he cupped it with ownership. “That you did,” he murmured, letting a finger slip under the ragged edge of her shorts. “If you’re driving, I guess I’ll just have to entertain myself by watching your hair blow in the wind.”
Lacey nodded and slipped in behind the wheel. Her heartbeat was still trying to skitter to an appropriate pace after his casual touch just sent it out of control. “Buckle up,” she warned.
He grabbed the strap. “I’m ready.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes briefly before starting the car.
Trashy women drive with wild abandonment, she told herself.
For some reason, she was having a hard time staying in character this morning. “We’ll need to leave the top up until we get off the dirt roads. Don’t worry, though, I’m sure you won’t get bored without my hair blowing around to entertain you.” She barely gave him time to buckle his seat belt, before she pealed out of the lot, sending gravel and dust into the morning breeze.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” he asked, over the loud rock music. His voice was sharp, cool, and not amused.
She looked over at him, her eyes wide in innocence. She bit back a smile when she saw his massive hand holding the handle strap tightly. “Don’t you love this song?” Reaching with her right hand, she turned the music up. The car vibrated with the rhythm.
He leaned forward and turned the music down. “Not really.”
She frowned over at him and made a series of twisting curves without ever hitting the brakes. “Don’t you love the country side?” As they traveled out of the low lying areas, the fog lifted, giving her more freedom to push the limits of the car.
“Is your dad a race car driver?” he asked loudly.
“No. Why?”
“Then where do you get this crazy driving from?”
“My mom taught me to drive aggressively. She did a good job, don’t you think?”
She could feel Covey’s eyes on her. She let her lips twitch in amusement, but kept her eyes on the road.
“So, you were taught to drive like a maniac?” he asked, with a sardonic tone.
“Yip.” She slowed the car and pulled to the side of road. “We can put the top down now.”
Covey opened his car door. “My turn to drive.”
Damn. I shouldn’t have stopped. “Well, if you insist. But, really, I don’t mind driving all the way.” Lacey grinned and gave him a trampy wink. Her legs trembled as she walked around the car. Her driving scared the shit out of her.
“I’m sure. I want to.” Covey walked around and got behind the wheel and waited for her to get into the passenger seat. He changed the channel to classic country and turned it down considerably.
“Classic country?” she said with a groan. Mr. Wrong, Mr. Wrong, Mr. Wrong.
He shrugged his shoulders.
Oh no, that is not an answer. “You can’t just shrug your shoulders. That’s not a response.”
He grinned and shrugged them again.
“No words, nothing. As if a shrug is the entire defense you need as an excuse to listen to classic country music.” This man needs help.
This time his eyebrows raised in answer. He checked the mirrors like an old man, buckled up, and slowly pulled onto the road.
Lacey groaned and threw her head back against the head rest. Mr. Wrong is a driving teacher in drag.
“Gee. I didn’t take you for the boring, cautious driving type.” Lacey was feeling major disappointment as she buckled her own seat belt. This was not what she expected of him. She was being Ms. Trashy; he needed to be Mr. Wild.
Finally, words came out of his mouth. “Normally, I’m much more energetic in my approach to driving.”
“Yeah, right.”
“But, after witnessing your antics, I suddenly find myself wondering how many more drivers like you are out on the road, driving like a maniac. I don’t currently have a suicide wish. There are too many beautiful women out there I haven’t had yet.”
She sat up straight and glared at him. “Had? As in sex? No, don’t answer. Of course, that would be it. Let me just tell you, after your weekend with me, they will all pale in comparison. And, my driving is just fine.” Lacey reached forward and turned up the music.
Covey muttered something, but she didn’t catch it. Was that a grin he was hiding? His dimple was twitching.
He’s laughing at me. Two can play at the irritation game.
“You like me and you know it,” she said childishly.
“Yes, I do. Now, be quiet.”
Lacey’s stomach did a flip flop a
t the admission. Was he teasing? Why did she find herself hoping he was serious?
Lacey, wake up. He’s Mr. Wrong.
Her directions were easy to follow. They got to their destination in record speed. As they pulled into the long driveway, she announced, “We could have been here five minutes earlier if you’d let me keep driving.”
“Or, we could be in the back of an ambulance.” He brought the car to a stop in front of a lovely old country house set in the middle of a farm. The smell of hay hung fresh in the air.
It was a two-story, white farmhouse with a large wrap-around porch. Huge oak trees shaded it from the sun. It sat on acres and acres of land. No other houses could be seen for miles around. Horses stood at the fence watching them, waiting for them to emerge.
“Will there be any others staying here with us? It looks empty,” he asked.
“No. Sorry, my fantasies don’t include threesomes.” Lacey liked the way he showed appreciation for her sense of humor through the twinkle in his eye and the dimple in his jaw.
Covey’s smile broadened. “Damn, I always wanted to bed two women at once. I guess that means you’ll never join me at a swinger’s club.”
Lacey eyed him warily. “Do you go to swinger’s clubs?”
Covey opened his door and got out.
She got out and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Well, do you?”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
She snorted. “Yeah, but you’re no gentleman. I find it hard to believe you haven’t.” Lacey walked to the trunk and waited for him to pop it. “I can get my cases if you can carry yours. You’ve been to a swinger’s club haven’t you?” She would bet money on it.
Covey grabbed his and then took hers from her. “I’ve never been. That’s not to say I won’t some day. Lead the way. You packed three bags for one weekend. How is that possible?”
“How is it possible you only packed one?”
The front door was unlocked and a note was taped to it. Lacey removed the note and read aloud. “Breakfast is in the oven staying warm.” She barreled through the front door and looked around.
“Isn’t this perfect?” she said with a sigh of appreciation. Antiques sat on polished wood floors. Threadbare throw rugs were scattered around. The walls were covered in wallpaper from decades gone by. It smelled like her grandmother’s house when she was growing up. Both old and love clung to the air.