“I’m not looking for their approval. I’m looking to show them that I’m here to stay despite them. If I back down, we will have lost the first battle.” This had been her morning mantra for the last week.
Keith knew this already himself. But he’d needed Mel to decide it. “OK.” Then, after a long pause, he said, “I miss you.”
A tear stung her eye. “I miss you, too.”
“I’d love to see you...before Sunday.”
“It’s a long weekend starting tomorrow. Jake’s with me all weekend.”
“We could make a day of it on Saturday. The three of us?”
-2-
Mel had cried for Keith. She’d cried on Sunday night, Monday night, Tuesday night. And she didn’t even know why. She’d even eaten her entire monthly batch of sundaes on, well, Sunday!
She missed him. She missed him walking in the door. She missed him stepping into the kitchen and frying up a steak after an hour of...mm-hmm...aerobic exercise. She missed his aftershave, hugging him in the bathroom after a shower. She didn’t even miss the sex so much as such. Sure, she missed feeling him inside her—deep inside her—missed the feel of her sweaty butt rolling over his thighs as she rode him. She missed being turned by him, having her leg lifted, and being thrust into by him. Of course she missed these things. But it hadn’t been the things as such that she’d missed.
She’d missed how close they’d felt together during those things.
She knew he felt the same.
She was afraid. She appreciated this. His family was powerful. He was powerful. She thought of Mr. Darcy—oh, Mr. Darcy!—but this was no Jane Austen novel, and this wasn’t the nineteenth century. She was too old (she believed) to be made a fool of.
And what of this Delilah? Mel had googled her. She’d discovered that Delilah Ramsey was high up on the British Socialite scale; that she came from noble birth. But, worst of all, Delilah Ramsey was almost ten years Mel’s junior! She had breasts firmer than a water balloon about to pop. Her legs reached the sky and her silky black hair made her blue eyes only more enticing.
Delilah Ramsey was every thirty-something woman’s nightmare. The Teenage Terminator, Freddy Krueger with Nail Polish. Mel could bitch-slap her, sure. (And she even wanted to a little, just for the fun of it.) But rules were different in “high society.” One bitch-slap, and the person doing it is ostracized for eternity.
Delilah had one of those smug little smirks you only saw on the collage covers of Now Magazine (which is precisely where Mel saw it—online version.) Delilah was sexy, confident, attractive. And she fucking knew it.
Mel had neither the time nor the desire to go up against a hussy like that. What kept Mel talking to Keith was that she felt she might not even need to go against the tramp after all. She could tell—especially now, with him hanging on the line, waiting for her answer—that Keith seemed serious about her.
Mel would go along. If he was serious, she’d tough it out with him, sure.
And, so far, he seemed serious indeed.
She wanted to wait before he met Jacob, wanted Keith to see him first in a social setting where it wasn’t just the three of them; nothing that could be misconstrued on Jacob’s part.
Of course, she had the added little dilemma that her son was a freaking genius and would probably figure it all out the moment he saw his mommy with the rich man...
“Mel?” Keith urged. “Saturday, the three of us. What do you say?”
“Sunday,” Mel said. “He’ll meet you on Sunday. I just...have to be careful with him, Keith.”
“I understand.” Sorrow filled his voice like a tumbling avalanche. Mel hung on the phone a second longer.
Then he clicked off.
And she died a little inside.
-3-
On Saturday night, Mel dreamed of Keith.
The dream’s colors were red and gray. There was smoke in the dream, as if from a cigarette, but it was all around them, as if coming from a great fire. The smoke tasted like peppermint.
She was in a room, maybe. She couldn’t tell. It was dark, the occasional flash of white light washing over her skin.
It was cold, and she was nude.
Keith appeared. One moment he hadn’t been there, the next moment he was. His hard hands were on her waist. He pulled her naked form to him and her breasts touched his chest.
She watered below. Warmth seeped out of her. She felt her lips part and, even though they weren’t touching him, she could taste his salt, feel his length along her tongue.
His finger eased below, pressed into her. She tried to gasp, tried to tell him how good it felt, but couldn’t. She looked down below, saw his hugeness, wanted to grab it but was paralyzed.
He’d stimulated her too much already. She needed to snap. It was unnerving. She had to explode!
Hard breaths filled the air. They sounded like music, like drums.
Before she knew it, she was on her back, he was above her, and inside her—from one moment to the next!
And. He. Rode her.
She howled for him, cried out for him, longed to feel his shaft push up against her, but, somehow, the feeling now eluded her!
Why can I not feel him?, she wondered.
All senses except touch let her know that he was indeed above her, thrusting into her...but somehow it wasn’t happening. “Harder,” she said. “I can’t feel you. Harder!”
He roared, pumped wildly into her but she still felt nothing. Desperation swallowed her. “Harder, please, harder!”
He came.
She didn’t.
She looked down. He was outside her, white juice seeping from his manhood. He wiped her off with a towel.
But she’d felt nothing.
Then she awoke.
NINE
THE BEST SUNDAE EVER
-1-
It hadn’t taken much convincing to get Nadja’s kids to go along with the idea of spending Easter at a mansion, partaking of an Easter “Egg” Hunt where they could actually find and keep an iPhone, an iPad, Kindle Fires, talking watches, and any of the other ridiculously expensive gifts the Devonshire family lavished on all its visiting children each year. The only rule was One Gift per Kid (but as many chocolates as you could find.)
Melissa had not played it dirty—she hadn’t bypassed Nadja and gone directly to the kids, and then gotten the kids to convince their mother. But she would have. There was no ways Mel was facing this day alone.
There were two threats to be met today. One: His mother. Two: Delilah Ramsey.
The day was brilliant, not a cloud in sight, a vast change from last year’s rainy and overcast Cadbury’s hunt in Hastings.
They drove in two cars. Nadja’s husband took the kids in the minivan. Mel and Nadja drove in Nadja’s Merc. Nadja drove because Mel’s hands were shaking too much, and her bladder felt like it was constantly ready to empty itself.
Mel had thought that Keith’s house was the second largest in England, second only to Buckingham Palace. When she saw his parents’...fortress of a building...she realized she’d been wrong. The place was absolutely gargantuan. Every tree in the forest surrounding it (not a garden, not a lawn, not a “park”) seemed to be sculpted. A massive labyrinth of landscaped hedges surrounded them. Plants were shaped to look like Easter Bunnies, huge eggs, Mickey Mouse, Goofy, Ariel the Mermaid...
“Close your mouth,” Nadja said.
Mel did.
They turned the car into the driveway circle and two liveried servants helped both of them out of their seats. It crossed Nadja’s mind that if she ever got divorced, she wanted to marry one of Keith’s relatives. Heck, she’d even marry his mother if she had to!
Keith stood on the stairs of the huge stone mansion. He was suited up, wearing a dazzling blue silk cravat. He stood tall. His smile reached his bright green eyes. His chest bulged underneath his attire. His oxfords shone with polished brilliance. Mel got the idea that Nadja was having an eyegasm.
Keith sauntered down t
he stairs, glowing with pride at seeing his lady. He introduced himself to Nadja. Nadja was speechless, just as Mel had been the first time Keith had called her.
He turned his gaze back to Mel who looked...luminous.
Nadja had dressed her up. Mel had on evening gloves and wore a strapless champagne bandage dress that would make Kim Kardashian jealous she looked so good in it. A small purse dangled from her right arm. She looked...stately! “I think you’ll give all the women here a run for their money today,” he said.
“That’s the plan, isn’t it?”
One of the red-liveried men took Nadja’s car keys and drove the car off.
Mel’s stomach sank at seeing Keith after so long. He held out his arm for her. When she took it, all the tension she’d been feeling for over a week, disappeared.
Phil was next to arrive, lugging the kids. Three young girls with hair like their mother’s spilled out of the back of the van and ran into the house, almost knocking Mel and Keith and Nadja over like a set of tenpins. Nadja shouted after them. Keith laughed. Phil stepped out of the car and swallowed hard when he saw Mel’s date. Phil was a portly man, balding. He was also a good father—a great father, Nadja had told Mel. For all of Nadja’s hot-air about wanting nights of decadent sex “with a crazily well hung men,” Mel knew her best friend was so in love with her husband that she’d never even look at another man seriously.
Phil’s eyes showed real fear at the sight of the male stud ahead of him. Nadja held her hand out to him. “Come here honey-bunch.” Phil smiled, as if suddenly relieved that he hadn’t just been ousted as a husband by the Alpha Male in the suit and cravat. Nadja brought her husband to her, smooched him deeply. She was a good head taller than him. She rubbed his bald head, looked him deep in the eyes, and said, “You know you’ll always be my knight in shining armor, don’t you?” Phil smiled, and he blushed. A lot.
And, finally, head buried in a book, out came the jewel of Mel’s life. Jacob walked up to her, not paying attention to anyone else, looking down at his story, both hands holding the book, and leaned on her. Mel put her hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Jake, this is Mr. Devonshire. Remember him?”
Jake said nothing, read further.
“Jake?”
He said nothing.
“Remember? The owner of Bookworms.”
Jake looked up suddenly, peered inquisitively at the large man. Mr. Devonshire really was big, Jake thought. “You own it?” he asked.
“Yes, I do. I own...all...of them, actually.”
Jake scrunched up one eye, the sun now making it hard for him to see the really tall man. “Does that mean I could get more than two books a week if I wanted to?”
Mel was mortified. “Jake, you can get more than two books a week now if you wanted to,” she said, trying to save face.
“But you said that sometimes I get bored of a book and so it’s best not to buy too many of one author at a time—”
Keith came to the rescue. “You can have as many books as you like...at no cost...if your mother approves it.”
Jake thought about this. As many as he liked? Jake smiled. “When can I have them?”
Keith looked at Mel, unsure of what he was or wasn’t allowed to say to her son. She shrugged, said, “Hey, it’s your promise, not mine!”
Keith looked at the little golden-haired man. Hair like his mother, Keith thought. “Whenever you want.”
Jacob smiled wider, then ambled off, head buried in his story again.
When he was out of earshot, Mel said, “You know you shouldn’t buy the love of a child, don’t you?”
“I can at least try.”
Keith put his arm around Mel’s waist, and they went into the lion’s den together.
-2-
Mel spotted Delilah Ramsey inside instantly. Who couldn’t? She was the one every other woman (and man) was around, laughing loudly, drawing as much attention to herself as possible. Delilah Ramsey was everything Mel had feared—rich, snobby, bitchy. But mostly she was sexy. And firm. Her breasts looked like a C, a firm C. A thirty-two C... She was even more intimidating in person than in all the web pictures Mel had seen of the...girl.
Delilah Ramsey’s eyes shot once or twice over to Keith and, if Mel wasn’t mistaken, Delilah’s gaze actually looked...jealous?
Mel snickered to herself. And held Keith’s arm tighter. They walked around the drawing room, greeting people that Keith knew. He introduced each person to Mel, and Mel felt like the first lady.
They exited to the back garden where all the “normal” people were—people who’d been invited to the Easter Treasure Hunt. People dressed in jeans and tee shirts, chewing on barbecued chicken legs and sipping on the complimentary wines. From the way some of them were guzzling down the cake, she figured a lot of them had given up sugar for Lent.
Inside was for the personal guests of the Devonshire family. Outside was for everyone.
There were white tents and tables everywhere. The smell of burning coal and grilled meat filled the air. Voices combined into a humming murmur of laughter and chit-chat. There were kids running around—at least four to a couple on average. Mel remembered that some were from orphanages and homes, which explained the high number.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Mel turned her face up to the heavens, let the sun warm her. And then she was jolted by the most saccharine, ingratiating voice she’d ever heard. The squeak of it was so shrill she almost felt as if she’d been stabbed: “Oh, Keith darling! So lovely to see you!”
Mel opened her eyes, and saw the temptress Delilah standing on Keith’s left. She was wearing a hat fit only for a horse-racing event or a gala. The woman’s arm was now looped in his, and she was tugging him away from Mel. Keith stood firm. “Delilah—” he began saying. But she interrupted him.
“Oh, darling, I do believe your mother—”
“Delilah!” he said angrily. Mel let go of his arm. She wasn’t going to demean herself to this kind of child’s game.
“Do come, Keith dear. I absolutely must—”
Keith glared the minx down! He grabbed her wrist and took it from his arm! It looked, to Mel, like the Jaws of Life cutting away steel! “Delilah,” Keith said. His voice was so harsh and stern that even Mel’s heart paused. “Your behavior is most inappropriate! You barge in here without even the slightest attention paid to my guest!” Mel figured that “guest” was a euphemism for “the person I’m sleeping with.” She’d never fully mastered these English euphemisms. “At least be civil, woman! Your behavior is utterly childish!”
Delilah Ramsey’s perfect lower lip dropped. The wine glass dangling from her left hand almost fell. She stared at Mel incredulously. Mel actually thought the woman was about to cry!
But, instead, Delilah did what every spoiled aristocrat does: She turned her nose up, scoffed at both Mel and Keith, and stormed off saying, “Well, I never!”
Keith turned to Mel. “I’m sorry about—”
Mel held a hand up, stopped him. He had nothing to be sorry for. He took his date’s arm in his again, and they continued as they had been before, introducing themselves, saying hello, and, basically, just making that Delilah bitch jealous as sin!
-3-
Mel saw a tent with a large freezer under it. And inside it were—oh my—chocolate sundaes galore!!! There were easily a hundred of them there!
“Ice cream in April?” she asked Keith.
“I had them ordered especially.”
“Oh. Well, that was a good guess.”
“Why is that?”
“They, uhm, happen to be my favorite Ice Cream.”
“I know.”
She let go of his arm, peered at him. “How do you know?”
“I saw the collection in your freezer.”
She chuckled. “Don’t tell me that’s why you had them purchased for today.” She was only kidding about that, of course.
“That’s precisely why I had them purchased.”
“Well, I confess, that does
count in your favor in my ledger. That and, well, the whole incident with Miss Floozy earlier.”
“There’s more.”
Her legs went weak. “Yes?”
“You’ll have to wait.”
As the morning progressed, Keith did not so much avoid his mother as simply ignore her. Finally, at about twelve P.M., she came by, pretended civility while actually stabbing Mel in the back with her eyes, and then left. “What does that mean?” Mel asked him.
Keith turned Mel, put his arms around her waist. She tried to push away. “Are you sure this is in keeping with, uhm, ‘etiquette’?” she asked.
“Fuck goddamned etiquette. Melissa Daniels, you drive me absolutely bonkers. And...I think I’m falling in love with you.”
She couldn’t breathe. Keith leaned down, Mel quickly stared around to make sure neither Jacob nor her “nieces” were watching (they weren’t), and Keith kissed her. In the distance, she heard a gasp.
“Oh my goodness!” someone cried. It was Delilah’s voice! “Mrs. Devonshire, you must do something!”
Then somebody started clapping. “You go, Mel!” Nadja’s voice. Mel knew it had been a good idea to bring her. Nadja was a real rabble rouser when she needed to be. And soon Nadja had the whole crowd cheering for them, just like a scene out of a movie. But a few other comments made Mel believe that it hadn’t only been Nadja who’d gotten excited about the kiss. That Keith Devonshire was kissing a woman so openly, so passionately, in an official setting, meant something very important apparently. What she heard was this (all female voices): “Finally, someone’s roped him in!” and “It’s about bloody time!” and “Oh my goodness, Keith Devonshire’s finally been snagged!”
Keith turned from Mel, faced the crowd, waved. Mel was blushing so hard she thought she’d soon catch fire. She saw Josephine standing with a scowling Delilah in the distance, both holding a glass of wine and talking conspiratorially. Delilah eventually took her hat off, threw it on the ground and stormed off! Josephine went chasing after her: “Oh, Delilah, please, wait! It’s just temporary. I’ll see to it!” Delilah stopped running, turned and ran to fetch the hat, picked it up, wiped the grass stains off it, put it on her head, threw another quick tantrum, pointed an accusatory finger at Keith, then rushed off again, hands fisted at her sides!
Easter Sundae (Hot Holidays Series Book Two) Page 8