Keith whispered to Mel: “I realized something. I realized that the reason the other girls never stood up to my mother, was twofold: They were all a bunch of chickens. And, perhaps I also hadn’t decided completely that I really wanted to be with them.”
“Is that a roundabout way of telling me I’m not a chicken?”
“Yes, and also of telling you that I really want to be with you. Seriously. As in, seriously dating.”
She smiled, and felt all “girly” for a moment. She let herself feel it. “Well, I must warn you that you not only have to win my heart”—Who was she kidding, he’d already done that—“but also the heart of my son. He comes first. And if he doesn’t approve of you—”
Keith held up his hand to stop her. “I said there was more, didn’t I?”
“The kiss wasn’t it?”
Keith shook his head. “Wait and see, my dear lady.”
From a bullhorn, someone announced the start of the Easter Treasure Hunt. Nadja’s three girls went absolutely ballistic with excitement. Nadja rolled her eyes, holding firmly onto Phil. She smiled widely at Mel, gave her a thumbs up.
The man announcing the hunt stood ahead of a strip of ribbon, just in front of the gargantuan labyrinth with the Mickey Mouse and Easter Bunny topiaries around it. Mel looked around and couldn’t see Jacob. The announcer called, “On your marks. Get set!”
“Where’s Jacob?” she asked Keith.
“GO!” The ribbon was cut. The kids stormed into the labyrinth and the hunt started.
Mel turned her head and—
She was shocked. Her hand went to her mouth. Her jaw went to the ground. Her son was reading on the stairs. Sitting on the lap of— “Oh my goodness, is that...Neil Gaiman!?”
Casually, nonchalantly, and utterly blasé, Keith turned, looked. “Oh, yes.” He sighed. “That was the other thing.”
Keith faced the Treasure Hunt again. Mel was still facing the other way. Neil Gaiman was smiling and...reading with her son! Mr. Gaiman looked up, waved. Mel didn’t realize he was waving at her. Neil called out, “Keith!” Keith turned. Neil said hello. Keith greeted him back. Neil took a pen out his pocket, flicked it side to side. “Now?” Neil asked.
Keith looked at Mel. “Mel, is it OK if Neil Gaiman takes your son up to my library and autographs the collection of hardcover books I have up there for him?”
Mel’s eyes misted up. Her head fell onto Keith’s chest. And she hugged him.
-4-
After the signing in Keith’s library, Neil Gaiman was soon accosted by a few of the other kids at the get-together. He signed more autographs, read a chapter from his latest book in the garden under the sun, and then shook hands warmly with Keith before he left.
Jacob had little interest in iPads, Samsung phones or any of the other gadgets the other kids were walking around with. It’s as if Keith had discerned Jacob’s character instantly, and planned the timing of Neil’s arrival just precisely, so that Jacob would be entertained while the other kids mobbed and murdered each other for their worldly goods.
If that hadn’t been enough, later that afternoon, Keith and Jake sat at the stairs and discussed Percy Jackson. In detail. Finally, Keith gave Jacob en e-reader (fit with child protection, he later confirmed to Mel) from Bookworms itself, with an unlimited choice of books from the children’s section for one year!
Jacob hugged him.
Mel was standing at a table of Fruity Teacakes, Lemon Bars and Shortbread. Nadja was at her side, ogling Keith. With a full mouth, Nadja said, “You never told me he was that hot. You could have told me he was that hot. Because if I’d known he was that hot—and rich!—I’d have told Phil to stay at home so I’d have more free time to perv.”
Phil, shortbread in his mouth and standing a few feet away, mumbled, “Did you call me, honey?”
“No, baby, just telling Mel how much I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie-pie.” Some shortbread crumbs fell from his lips and onto his shirt.
Nadja looked at Mel. “I know he doesn’t look like much, but that’s because you don’t know the other side of him!”
Mel waved her hands. “And I don’t want to know!”
Mel was already perving over Keith herself. But it wasn’t Keith’s solid build or his laid-back manner as he sat there in his suit that turned her on. It was how he was with her son.
Jake liked him.
She was comfortable with Keith’s gifts. Keith wasn’t actually “buying” Jacob’s friendship; he was simply lavishing on him things that he understood Jake to like. Another man (such as the idiot fathers she sometimes had to suffer at PTA meetings) might force the boy to kick a ball or to play rugby. Keith understood her boy, and let him be who he was.
She had to admit, it turned her on. And, eating Chocolate Sundae herself (she wasn’t much into cakes, but she couldn’t say no to so much Ice Cream!), Mel’s friend’s voice slowly disappeared; as did the clings and chings of cutlery and wineglasses around her, replaced soon by the whoosh of wind in her ears, as she watched the man she was deeply and fully and absolutely in love with.
He looked up at her from the stony stairs, smiled.
Clouds filled the sky from one moment to the next. What had been, ten minutes ago, a bright and warm afternoon, was now cool and blustery. Mel felt a drop of rain on her shoulders, and goose pimples crawled up her stockinged legs. Keith looked up at the sky and, just as is common in English terrain, it wasn’t even a minute later when it started coming down in buckets!
-5-
Guests hid under tents. The more British amongst them actually pulled out umbrellas—huge umbrellas large enough to cover an elephant!—and just kept on eating. Most, however, ran inside, into the lush and luxurious drawing room, trimmed with gold and red, adorned with oil masterpieces of great men and women on the walls.
The room was set up to allow the guests to continue their party, as if it had all been planned in case of rain. The children were corralled into either a large playing room, or a movie room, as they desired. Except for Jake. He went into the parlor and kept reading. Mel noticed him go and went to check on him. Keith followed.
Jake sat on a couch, feet up on it, three books piled up on the floor, one in his hands. He looked like a cherub.
The battleaxe, Mrs. Josephine Devonshire, quickly appeared behind them. Mel felt the chill as the woman materialized—like a demon out of hell. Mel turned, saw the stony face—hard and unyielding. The woman was staring at the boy. Mel was ready to attack her if she said anything about him. How could anyone face such an angelic child and still look so...grim!
But then...the face changed. Mrs. Josephine Devonshire actually...smiled. OK, it was more of a twitch. To call it a smile might be like calling glass a diamond. But Mel noticed Josephine’s face change from hard and cold to, dare she say it, kind and healthy. Mrs. Devonshire gave the slightest of sighs. Her own son, leaning on the doorjamb, looked at his mother behind him, then looked back at Jake. All three of them stood there now, looking at innocence itself: The boy, on the couch. Reading.
The next thing that happened shocked both Mel and Keith. Mrs. Devonshire put a hand on Mel’s back, gently, and said, “There’s tea in the drawing room if you’d both like. Join us when you are ready.” A moment of stunned silence passed. Mel and Keith nodded. Keith started for the drawing room, then Mrs. Devonshire grabbed Mel’s hand. Mel stayed, turned to face the older woman. Josephine Devonshire smiled at her (more than a mere twitch this time!) “Take care of him, OK? I only ever disapproved of all the others because, well, a mother knows. None of them were good for him. Money and stature have nothing to do with it. It was something else. I think you know what I’m talking about.”
Mel did. One day she might be called a battle-axe herself. Because who could be good enough for Jake?
Mel tried to go again, but Mrs. Devonshire grabbed her one more time, tighter now. Her face was stern once more—although the hard, cold look had long disappeared. Mel suspected it wo
uld never again re-appear. It seemed more like an act now, Mel suspected. “Now don’t go thinking you and I are friends or anything! I’m still watching you. My son’s happiness is priority!”
Mel did the natural thing—she leaned down and kissed the woman’s forehead. Now the woman really did smile, and blush. Mel left to go be with her man.
Mrs. Devonshire looked after her, a tear forming in her eye. She’d waited thirty-seven years for this moment. It would certainly have to be the biggest wedding in Sussex; no, in England! She would start planning it...
In the drawing room, Nadja’s kids appeared, mobbing their mother, complaining and screaming from the sugar-downer each one of them was no-doubt experiencing. Nadja, kids in tow, lugged over to Mel. “We’re going. I’m sure you can see why.” She pointed at the screaming kids. “Oh, and Mel, Jacob’s spending the night at our place. We’ve already arranged it with him. I’m sure you...uhm...have plans.” Mel’s best friend gave a knowing smirk, looked up at Keith. “Mr. Devonshire, it was...uhm...an absolute pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand daintily. Keith shook it.
As she was leaving, and after Keith had turned his face away, Nadja mouthed Details! and then made the telephone symbol with her hands and put it to her ear and mouth. This time she mouthed, Call me! Hot! CALL ME!
Mel shooed her away, hoping no one was observing her!
Jake trailed behind them, e-reader under his arm, face in a book, a sack of other books on his back, completely unperturbed by the female urchins in whose house he’d be spending the night.
“I told him I’d bring the rest of the books for him tomorrow,” Keith told Mel. “Or...I could keep them at my place and...he could read them there?”
“You did too much.”
“I make too much money, and have no one to spend it on.”
“Jacob likes soccer, at least a little bit. Can you play soccer?”
“No. But I can hire a coach. How does Sir Alex Ferguson sound?”
“Sounds important. Who is he?”
Keith’s eyes shot up in absolute shock. “You truly are American, aren’t you! Even the women in this country know he’s only the best football coach to have ever lived!”
“Soccer. Not football.”
He kissed her, right there in the drawing room, unperturbed at who was watching and who wasn’t. Mrs. Devonshire miraculously appeared again. “Come now, children. There are times and places for such things. And now is not one of them!” She was talking to Mel and Keith—the “children.”
And this time Mrs. Devonshire smiled widely and genuinely. Mel imagined that the woman had probably never smiled so widely in her entire life.
Delilah was back, her arm now looped around a tall man that looked not-quite-as-rich as Keith, but definitely also rich. She galumphed over to Keith and Mel, man in tow, introduced her “date,” and wished them both a pleasant afternoon. “Mel, we should do lunch some time.”
Delilah actually tried to seem genuine! And friendly! As if all her hidden hatred for the female race had suddenly disappeared now that she’d snagged herself a provider!
The girl strutted off to show off her catch to whoever else would pay attention to her.
“Looks like she got what she wanted from this party after all,” said Keith to Mel. “A rich and gullible man.”
Mel also got what she wanted. And she wasn’t talking about the chocolate sundae. It seems like everyone did. But that’s the point about Easter, isn’t it?
She gripped Keith’s arm tighter. You’re my new chocolate sundae, she thought. “I’m gonna call you my Easter Sundae from now on,” she said to him.
“Because I’m dessert?”
“The best kind.”
EPILOGUE
THE DESSERT
-1-
When Mel got to Keith’s manor with him at six P.M., she soon realized the night had actually only just begun: A fire snapped in the living room, and the smell of burning pine cones filled the house. The lights in the room were low. A table had been set, a candle burned on it. Red wine waited for them. And the smell of roasted meat made her mouth water.
Keith pulled her chair out, eased her into it.
They dined.
She skipped the Chocolate Sundae for dessert because, heck, she’d eaten more ice cream in the last ten days than she had in the last year! But Keith had bought it for her, just in case. His freezer was full with it. “Just in case you plan on spending any nights here. I’ve had a room prepared for Jacob as well.”
She melted. And all she wanted now...was for him to take her.
Christian Grey had nothing on this guy! Here, in front of her, was a real man! Not even Mr. Darcy came close to Keith Devonshire!
It was time to let go of her book boyfriends, she realized.
Keith wiped his lips with a napkin, poured a glass of wine for both of them. She sipped hers. He stood up, eased around the table, held out his hand. She took it. The lights in the room changed, darker now. Gentle music appeared. They danced. She took her shoes off, because she hated dancing in heels. He pressed her to himself.
“You swept me off my feet today,” she admitted. Her defenses were down, she noticed. She had let him in.
“You swept me off my feet over a week ago.”
“When precisely?”
He swung her around, brought her back, pressed her against him again. “When you asked me why I kept seeing you. I have an answer for you.”
“What is it?”
“Because I can’t bullshit you. I know you’d leave me in a second if I disrespected you. I know you’re confident, that you don’t need a man; that you could get any man you wanted if you wished. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
They danced more. She felt him stir. She knew it was going to happen again tonight. But tonight it would be different. Tonight they would make love, perhaps for the first time. She pressed her lips into his neck, kissed him slowly, stretched out her tongue and licked his skin. His right hand slid gently down her back, over her butt, between it. His finger pressed down the middle of it, rubbed up, then down.
The music was gone to her now. She couldn’t hear it, although she knew it was there. All she heard was her heart, stampeding in her chest. All she felt was the nervous sweat on her skin, and the gentle moisture seeping out below as her nether lips began, slowly, to fill up for him.
He pushed her backwards, eased four fingers into the top of her dress, slid them across her chest. The tips of his fingers slid ever so slightly into her strapless bra. Then he moved them back again. She felt the slightest of trembles in her legs. Her breathing became ragged, quieter, as she waited for him to take her.
He turned her so her back faced him and she was looking out the windows into the garden. Rain pitter-pattered against the glass. Fire crackled on her right. His lips met the back of her neck. His tongue slid slowly down her spine. Her head fell and she shivered. He unzipped her dress, eased it lower. Then, without warning, he let it drop, and it fell at her feet.
Except for her underwear, she was completely naked now.
-2-
Still behind her, he kissed her ear, her shoulder. His hands eased up under the cups of her bra and fondled her nipples lightly so that they tautened up tighter than if they’d been squeezed in clamps. Her breasts spilled out. She shivered again. “You cold?” he rumbled.
“On the contrary...”
“I can put more wood in the fire.”
“I’m not fucking cold. Just don’t stop what you’re doing.”
His left hand fondled her breast, massaged it. His right hand, unchecked—merciless renegade that it was!—slid lower, lower, over her belly, her belly button, under the seam of her underwear...
He stopped at her mound, pressed down on the curvy swelling of it. He was so close, so unbelievably close to it, and yet he waited. He moved his finger a fraction of an inch down. His middle fingertip was easily
an eighth of an inch above her nub! She felt warmth ooze out of her like a waterfall. Her breathing became so fast she felt her chest heave with it!
He waited. He kissed her spine again... And, still, his right hand lingered.
Instinctively, she moved onto her tip-toes, pushed out against him and—“Oh, GOD.” He touched her, and as she had pressed out, he’d pressed in, and turned on the faucet of desire in her.
She was ready, so ready. His finger curled and twirled at her sweet spot. Her legs began to lose strength. His left arm clutched her and held her. His right middle finger moved down further, just grazed her lips below. She felt the moisture on her trimmed hairs, cried out agonizingly in her mind as he stayed there, pressing, moving left, then right. His cock, behind her, was hard and pushed against her butt. She wanted to feel its own moisture, sliding between her cheeks, then lower...inside her.
His finger moved lower still. Now it was right at the sodden entrance, waiting, like a sentry at a gate. She took her hands, which up to now had each been clutching at his wrists, and moved them both onto the back of his right hand.
And she pushed him into her.
-3-
He thrust in, plied her. The movement was furious, fast. She gasped, lost all strength in her knees. It was as if his hand was holding all her weight up. And still he pushed and pumped her. “Oh god this is turning me on so much!” she cried. Every touch made her wetter. She rocked her pelvis into him!
And then, he stopped! He held her against him! Pushed her ass to his crotch. She tried to get some movement going but couldn’t.
Easter Sundae (Hot Holidays Series Book Two) Page 9