Easter Sundae (Hot Holidays Series Book Two)

by Dunning, Rachel

  “Jacob says his mother can stay out with her friends.”

  “Good man. I heard him talking of an Easter Egg Hunt?”

  “You have ears like a bat.”

  He waited. “Well?”

  She explained the tradition, leaving out the part about the beer. And the men.

  “My parents run an egg hunt at their place as well,” he said. “They stay just outside Brighton. They call in a few children’s homes and orphanages and then place gifts—not only eggs—for them to collect. But it’s not only children’s homes, a lot of the neighborhood kids come through as well.”

  “That’s sweet of them.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s a tax benefit. My parents have never been much of the giving type.” He thought of inviting Melissa. Wouldn’t that be fun? Her and the boy? Jacob had seemed like a bright one. He’d had a spark of some sort in him when Keith had seen him, Keith remembered. Keith would certainly prefer being at a stuffy-nosed gathering with Melissa than with...what was her bloody name again?...Delilah Ramsey! Heck, he and Mel could even go under the stairs and...

  Mel realized suddenly, standing there, that she was naked, staring at Keith on the bed. He was everything she wasn’t: firm, athletic, sturdy, strong. But she felt no shame in facing him nude. She felt, actually, strangely attractive around him. It was the way he looked at her, all lustful and desirous, like she was the most attractive woman in the world.

  She caught him looking at her now, smiling while doing it. “What are you looking at?”

  “Right now? Your breasts.”

  Her hand rose instinctively to her left breast, covering the disk of it. OK, perhaps she was a little embarrassed.

  “And now...” She saw his eyes move lower. “...at your... What is the right word for it? A word that is not crass?”

  “‘It’ is the right word,” she replied.

  “So, right now, I’m staring at your ‘it.’”

  She felt as if he’d just touched her there. On her “it.” She felt her nether lips grow, get tighter, moister. Her legs began to quiver, just the slightest bit...

  Keith sat up, hardening again. It had been an hour since their last go. She’d like several more goes before the end of the night, she decided.

  “Come over here.” He stretched out his arms to her, his eyes constantly on her it. He was smiling gently. As she reached the bed, those arms went behind her ass, he pushed her toward him, and his tongue went to between her legs.

  He licked it passionately, for god knows how long.

  -8-

  It was an endless night of passion. Melissa lost count of how many times they did it. She slept little. And, in the morning, noticed that her eyes were dark from lack of sleep. And felt that her vag was just slightly aching from all the attention.

  She was in the bathroom, drying herself after an unbelievably good shower. Not only did the rich live well, they also had great showerheads. Keith’s was a glorious bathroom about the size of another small house, with gilded faucets and a marble sink. Keith walked in, almost nude, carrying a red dress, a tee shirt, jeans, sweatpants, and underwear. Women’s underwear. “I didn’t know what you wanted to wear today. I assume you don’t want to wear the same dress as last night. And, underwear”—he held up the panties—“well, I assumed you’d need some fresh ones at least. I had Aaron pick these up this morning. They should be the right size, because I checked the size of your dress but, we’re men, so if it doesn’t fit, I can have him pick up some more. Melissa?”

  She realized she wasn’t speaking. And also realized that he’d taken it upon himself to provide her with a fresh set of clothes—freshly bought! “Uhm, wow, er, thank you.”

  “Well, I assumed you didn’t want to wear the same clothes as last night.”

  “Yes, but, uhm...wow, ok, sure.” She smiled.

  Keith was in boxers, the rest of his bodybuilder self bared to her, just to tease her, she thought.

  She would have him again now, she knew. Tender down there notwithstanding, she’d take him, right here, in this bathroom. No questions, no delay.

  “I didn’t know there were clothing stores open at this time on a Sunday,” she commented.

  “I own a few.”

  Of course he does.

  She turned to the mirror, apprehending quickly that the fairytale was ending. Keith, perhaps unsure of how to “let this woman down easy” (she assumed) was standing hesitantly at the bathroom door (the state of his hesitance being another assumption on her part.)

  Mel jumped in. “Keith, uhm, last night was”—unbelievably good and I’d like to do that every night for the rest of my life—“really good. You don’t have to feel like you owe me anything, or—”

  Insulted, he looked at the clothes, said, “Is that what you think this is?” He put them down on the clothes hamper.

  “No, no! I didn’t mean the clothes! I just mean I’ll be out of your hair in no time—”

  “See me again.”

  “—and there’s— Excuse me. What?”

  “See me again.”

  Melissa didn’t know what to say. Saying yes wouldn’t hurt. But surely Keith had to know that this could go nowhere. She had a life, a routine. Getting hooked up with a rich and dreamy man was not part of that routine, and couldn’t be either.

  Besides, he was...beyond attractive, beyond rich. He was a heartbreak waiting to happen.

  She smiled as warmly as she could. Keith, however, was serious. “Keith.” She sighed. “You and I both know this can’t last—”

  “See. Me. Again.” It was no question. It was a pure demand.

  Melissa had two reactions to it: One. Instant desire. And two. The hairs on her neck bristled at the audacity of him thinking he could order her around! She wouldn’t take orders from a man! “You’re going to have to try a lot harder to see me than throwing your authority around. I’m not a puppy. And I’m certainly not your damn slave!”

  Her accent came out when she got angry. Yawha damn slayve!

  He smirked. He knew damn well she wasn’t a puppy, or a slave! What she was, was a highly seductive naked woman in his bathroom. Not just any woman—Melissa Daniels, naked in his bathroom! If she’d been at school with him, with the attitude she carried about her, she would’ve undoubtedly been queen of the bad-girls, or at least the hottest girl for the boys to try and “catch.” He strode toward her. When he reached her, he pushed her mound against him, and delighted in her whimpering gasp as his hand clasped her round ass.

  She couldn’t stop herself smiling. So much for her bravado. “Want another go?” he said.

  He’d won. And she knew it. She was Jell-O now. “Only if you do that thing with your tongue again, you know, on”—she pointed delicately downwards—“it.”

  Keith Devonshire got on his knees on the hard bathroom tiles, and he did that thing with his tongue again, on it.

  Melissa Daniels shrieked with savage pleasure.

  -9-

  They had breakfast—fruits, chocolate croissants, various rolls and cheeses, hams, coffee, tea. When she was done, Mel was certain she’d just gained four pounds. If she did enter into a “thing” with Keith (she couldn’t imagine ever being in an actual “relationship” with Keith) he’d probably dump her fast because she’d be bigger than a balloon in a few weeks with this kind of temptation around her!

  Then again, with all the added exercise...

  Keith didn’t seem to have a problem with her weight, she’d noticed. No problem at all, in fact. She’d even go so far as to say that he, maybe, even liked that she was a little plump. (Mel was the only one who called herself plump; Nadja—who we must mention again was the owner of London Fashionista magazine and so knew what she was talking about when describing the figures of women—called Mel shapely.)

  Keith took a bite of a grape. Looked at Mel. “What are you smiling it?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” The enormous room echoed with her voice.

  He finished his grape. She finis
hed her coffee, then polished off a chocolate sundae (yes, for breakfast!) She likened the entire evening with Keith to a sundae, a decadent sundae with dripping caramel and chocolate sauce all over it.

  “Let’s take a walk,” he suggested.

  He took her through his back gardens—technically called a “park” amongst the landed gentry, as if someone could actually own a “park” in their own backyard! They walked hand in hand. He told her how he was born into money but took none of it. He’d had friends who’d simply inherited their family’s wealth and he’d seen how that had degraded them, how they’d grown decadent and irresponsible. They could never own that money, he said. It would never be theirs. His house, his cars, everything, was made by him and therefore truly owned by him.

  Mel told him about her fateful love affair with Matthew Richardson, how foolish she had been to chase him around the world. She told him she was a web designer and site administrator; that she worked from home. Her clients paid her to keep their sites running. Many of them paid her a flat fee so, if she did her job right, she could make money by doing little work. She didn’t tell him that she actually made a lot of money that way. Because compared to what he made, she was technically a pauper, on welfare, living on the streets.

  “So you’re a businesswoman.”

  She’d never heard herself being called that. “No, I’m a single mother who needs time to dedicate to her son.”

  “So you’re a smart businesswoman.”

  She shrugged, never having cared much for money or business alike. Jacob was her life, and whatever she needed to do to ensure he got the upbringing he deserved, she would. If that meant being a “businesswoman,” she’d accept the label gladly. Because the first and foremost label in her mind was that she was a mother first, and everything else second.

  Keith wanted to meet the son. There’d been a curious glimmer in the little boy’s eyes when Keith had seen him on Friday. A kind of brilliance that Keith imagined the likes of Mozart and Einstein had probably had in their own eyes as kids. Keith chose not to mention this desire to her. He’d never had children, knew little about them, but he was no fool and knew that spending time with her boy might confuse him.

  “So how many girls have you walked in this forest with after a night of revelry?”

  “Firstly, it’s not a forest. It’s a garden. Those who believe we’re still in the eighteen hundreds might hazard as to call it a park.”

  Melissa looked around. It was a forest.

  “Secondly...” And here Keith was the slightest bit embarrassed. “...You are actually the...first...that I’ve brought out here.” Suddenly his hand in hers felt awkward, he sensed. When had he grabbed it? he wondered. He let it go.

  Melissa felt its release as if she’d been a boat suddenly unmoored out to a raging sea. Silly, she thought.

  Silence passed. Wind blew more forcefully against them. She rubbed her arms. Keith had already asked her to see him again; it was her turn to let him know she would. She shouldn’t feel trapped here. She could leave when she wanted. He said, “Your car is outside. Aaron brought it by.”

  She could take a hint. It had been fun. And now it was time to step back out into the real world. She was happy to have been with him, to have eaten his sundae and walked in his garden. It had been a step out of reality for a little while, and she felt “refreshed” by it. She stopped, turned to him, held out her hand. And, in an affected and Kate Winslet manner, said, “Well, Mr. Keith Devonshire, it’s been an absolute pleasure to have, uhm...”

  “Melissa, I’m not sure what I have to do to convince you that I’d like to see you again.”

  She put her hand down, wondered where to put her feet. Her shoulders raised as she inhaled deeply, then dropped.

  The sex had been good. Great, actually! She’d gotten her release. She needed to get back to her life. “Keith.” She shook her head. “Look, let’s not make this harder than it is. You’re...an attractive man. I’m just not—”

  “And you’re an attractive woman. See me again. This is not a proposal at marriage, it’s a—”

  Even Keith suddenly dreaded the word, and couldn’t say it: Date.

  He was in a dangerous place, he abruptly realized. He felt it now. He’d grown close to her. And it wasn’t just the sex (although—bloody hell!—the sex had been good!) It was her presence, the way she carried herself. He wanted to get to know her, find out about her, that’s all. So...call it “dating.” Fine! She wasn’t Belinda Buchanan. This wasn’t the same thing!

  She noted his hesitation. “You see? You can’t even say it! Men like you are, well, afraid of... I don’t know how to phrase it.”

  “Phrase it how you like. I’m a big boy.”

  “Tell me, Keith, how many women have you slept with in, say, the last year?”

  “I’d like to take the fifth amendment—”

  “You’re British! You can’t take the fifth amendment!” She poked him. He laughed. Without thinking, his arms were suddenly around her again. He held her. And then he kissed her.

  She held him in return.

  Before she knew it, she was up against some precisely trimmed hedges, and Keith’s hands were on her waist. And their body temperatures were quickly rising.

  Oh, hell, what am I getting myself into? she wondered.

  SEVEN

  THE ENEMY

  -1-

  Nadja opened the door for Mel at three P.M. When she saw Mel’s face, she knew. “You got laid!”

  “Shhhhh!!” Mel flapped her hands nervously, looking around for Jake and the girls.

  “Oh, fuckit darling, they are all outside! I NEED DETAILS!”

  Nadja always looked dazzling. Even on a Sunday afternoon she looked like she was headed into a photo shoot. Mel wanted to go see Jacob. Nadja wouldn’t let her. Nadja dragged her best friend to her designer couch and insisted on details!

  Mel sandbagged...for a little. Nadja insisted, pulled, questioned, dug deeper. And, finally, Mel broke loose...and she told her best friend everything.

  Mel realized, after, why she’d sandbagged: Because the whole damn thing was too good to be true. The night—“No, Nadja, the sex!”—had been un-freaking-believable!

  “So he is really rich?” Nadja asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How rich?”

  “Bill Gates rich. Maybe more.”

  “And his...you know...is...”

  “Exquisite.”

  “Oh, god, Mel, you’re making me horny!” Nadja fell back on the couch, certainly almost swooning.

  “He...uhm...wants to see me again.”

  Nadja waited for the point. When it didn’t arrive, she asked, “And?”

  Mel said nothing, played with an imaginary fiber on her new red dress.

  “You’re not going to tell me you have doubts about seeing him again, do you?”

  Mel shrugged.

  And then Nadja set her best friend’s mind straight: “Mel, it’s not natural to be single for so long without even trying!” Nadja spoke firmly, but quietly. “Look, you can’t be afraid of getting your heart broken—”

  “My heart’s not in this. It’s purely physical.”

  Nadja made her best raspberry sound. “Fine, it’s physical. But you are afraid of getting your heart broken. Look, you uprooted your whole life for someone and he screwed you. But you got a great son out of it.”

  “An amazing son.” Then Mel looked up at her best friend. “And an irreplaceable friend.”

  “You see! So how can you regret having fallen idiotically for a man before?”

  “I just wonder if I’m not making the same mistake again. Chasing a man who looks great but turns out to be something opposite.”

  “Oh, please, Matthew was a slime-ball. And he was married!”

  “But I only found this all out later. I fell for it at first. I know Keith is not married—a man like that never is!—but what if I’m missing something else? Some other lie that I’m not seeing until it’s too late?”<
br />
  “Babe”—Nadja put her hand on Mel’s knee—“just see this guy again. Roll with it.” She whispered, “Have some good sex at least! You look ten years younger this morning.”

  Mel blushed. Her skin went warm. She looked at her friend coyly. Mel could hear the kids’ voices outside. She looked around to make absolutely sure they were alone. Then she whispered, “Nads, the sex was fucking...out of this world!”

  This time Nadja was sure she would swoon. It took her two minutes to gather her senses and to recover from the hot flush that hit her like a fist.

  They got up to go to the backyard where the kids were. Just before exiting, Nadja gave Mel a onceover, eyed Mel’s dress up and down. It was exquisite, Nadja thought. And a little pricier than Mel normally goes for. “Nice dress by the way. Where did you get it?”

  -2-

  Keith and Mel saw each other. Daily. He took time off from work and visited her in her tiny apartment while Jacob was at school.

  On Friday, in bed, after some hot HOT sex, Mel (who was starting to fall for him, hard) grazed her fingers over his chest and said, “Why do you keep seeing me?”

  Keith was stunned. The question felt like a brick being pushed down on his lungs and just held there—by an elephant. The real answer he wanted to give her was that...he...didn’t know. But Keith Devonshire had never been a man who “didn’t know.” He’d known business opportunities, real estate bargains; he’d known and decided and made his way with certainty in the world.

  And now?

  “Keith?” Mel repeated.

  He cleared his throat. “Is it not enough to say that...I’m enjoying our time together?”

  Enjoying “our time” together, she wondered. Not “Enjoying you” but “our time.”

  She turned from him, lay on her back. Her skin had gone cold. She looked up at the ceiling.

  She liked being with him. True, the “relationship” was mostly sexual. But she knew herself well. She’d never had sex “for no reason” with a man. And she’d certainly never continued to have sex with one if there wasn’t some attachment there. She’d known this on Monday when they’d seen each other again, on Tuesday (they did it on the floor that day), Wednesday (the bathroom), Thursday (kitchen counter), and she knew it now, Friday (on the bed—again and again and...again.) Anyone who says sex is purely physical is freaking dreaming! she thought to herself.