“And mine would’ve been better if you hadn’t hauled me in here in the first place.” It wasn’t like he’d forced her. Beneath her anger, she’d been curious. Why would a man with his reputation want to drag her anywhere? She’d got her answer. He had needs, just like any other man. It was time to go. “Reverend, it’s been a pleasure.” Wrong choice of words. “But I need to leave.”
Trent looked as if he wanted to say more, but he stepped aside to let her pass.
After a moment’s hesitation, Cora reached for the handle. She turned the knob. She jiggled. She tugged. She started to feel the claustrophobic effect of Trent’s heat on her body.
This was like putting her in a room with chocolate. She had the worst will-power when it came to chocolate.
“Let me.” His large hand covered hers.
She stepped out of his way, suspecting the worst.
He turned the knob. He jiggled. He tugged. “Holy...”
He pounded on the door with the flat of his hand. “Hey!”
As if on cue, dance music blared from the living room. The bass pounded the walls, thumping in time to the hard beat of Cora’s pulse. No matter how loudly Trent yelled and pounded, no one heard him.
It would take more than muscle and noise to get them out of here. Cora sat on the floor, back to the wall. Brutus plopped on his belly in the corner less than a foot away, watching her.
Trent was watching her, too, but it was no longer with that let’s-get-it-on heat. He started to speak.
“Don’t say it.” Cora held up a hand, because him saying it would only add to her extremely bad day. “You’ll only make it worse if you say it.”
He ignored her. “We’re stuck.”
Chapter 5
“Guys like you are supposed to look on the bright side.” Cora slipped off her heels and stretched her legs, pointing her toes until they almost touched the door behind him. She wiggled those digits, as if they needed airing out.
The room was small, just a sink and a toilet. Trent didn’t want to look at her. With Cora’s taste still on his lips, looking at her only made him want her more. He leaned on the edge of the sink with both hands and stared at himself in the mirror. Cora incited lust.
Minister Bishop’s voice reverberated in his head: Whosoever looks on a woman with lust hath fornicated with her already in his heart.
He hadn’t lusted after a woman since he’d met Rachel in college. She’d been the sweetest thing Trent came across at BYU. Not only was she willing to obey the university’s strict standards of behavior between the sexes, but she also understood his dedication to the game of basketball. She didn’t complain about him spending extra hours in the weight room, on the treadmill, or on the gym floor practicing his shot. While he studied game film, she’d sat next to him studying the Bible. And after he proposed, during those rare weekends when he wasn’t busy, she happily accompanied him to a cheap motel.
After his senior year, when the NBA didn’t come calling in need of his jump shot, he’d gone into coaching. Again, Rachel had been understanding. She’d worked with her father’s flock, while he established his coaching credentials. Sex went no farther than the basics, but it was regular and non-distracting – yes, he’d loved his wife (still did), but he didn’t think about making love to her all day long.
It was only after Trent won the ultimate title in basketball – the Final Four – that he’d realized their marriage had sunk to something more like a business proposition. Their reputations fed off each other. After he’d brought home that trophy, Rachel and Minister Bishop wanted him to take a bigger role in their church. Rachel wanted him to give up drinking and watching UFC fights. She wanted him to reference the Bible when he spoke. She wanted him to deliver Sunday service. She wanted him to become the Reverend for real!
Trent stared at the woman locked in the bathroom with him. She was the kind of woman the Minister Bishop preached against. The kind of woman Trent had dreamed of flaunting in his ex-father-in-law’s face when he arrived in L.A. Of course, that was before he’d learned of Archie’s indiscretion. Before he’d decided he needed the Reverend persona a bit longer.
What had he been thinking dragging Cora in here?
His heart pounded in his chest, daring him to admit there’d been more on his mind when he locked them in here than eliminating speed bumps. Shit and damn. With one strike against him in the press and his credibility stretched to cover Archie, he’d sink to his doom if the Reverend’s façade was tarnished further.
“You jinxed us,” Cora said, no trace of doom in her voice.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
She chuckled. “The Reverend cusses and gives out passionate kisses?”
Trent was too aware of Cora’s slender legs, her dark, silky hair, and the tequila-fire of her kiss. The flowery scent of soap had long gone, leaving behind that hint of vanilla. “I have to get out of here. Pretty soon somebody’s going to wonder where I’ve gone and then…”
“Such a gentleman, Reverend. You can say it.” She sighed. “And then they’ll notice I’m gone or remember that you dragged me – quickly – through the crowd.” She sighed again, as if she knew she was no good at staying out of trouble. “My sister will be the first to jump to the conclusion and say I corrupted you. Don’t worry, since you’re my client and the Reverend, I’ll take the hit.” There was a forlorn note in her voice, as if she took the hit for people far too often. She glanced up hopefully. “Where’s your cell phone?”
“In my car. Charging. Yours?”
Hope fell from her delicate features. “In my purse in the foyer.”
“Somebody’s bound to come by soon. All those drinks. They’ll need a bathroom.”
“The real party just started. It’s going to be at least another thirty minutes of hard core dancing before they take a break.” She stretched her feet toward the bathroom door again. Point and flex. Her dog snuggled next to her hip and closed its eyes. “You may as well sit. Put your back against the door and shout out if you hear someone.”
He’d much rather be making her shout out. But that was Trent Parker’s wish, not the Reverend’s.
Biting back another curse, he did as she suggested, stretching his legs alongside, but not touching, hers. The beat of the music shook the door. Sex may have been out, but he didn’t want to be the Reverend again just yet. “You’re calm. Have much experience being locked in a bathroom during a party?”
“Growing up around here, you learn not to panic when weird shit happens, because weird shit goes down all the time.” She wiggled her toes. Cute, tempting toes.
It was safer watching the napping dog. “What about the anger?” Her anger had propelled her to kiss him. His anger still had a grip on his chest, crowding his lungs. He needed to get out of here before he did something stupid, like kiss her again.
“Massage works wonders on anger, whether you give or receive. Let me show you.” She tugged off his right loafer and claimed his foot, setting it in her lap.
Trent’s body tensed, mostly between his legs.
“Relax,” she murmured. And then she proceeded to massage the bottom of his foot with her thumbs.
Electricity shot from her touch to his dick. Trent forgot about anger. He forgot about his image and expectations and responsibilities. His vision funneled to this woman and her touch. He imagined her hands continuing their circular motion up his legs, to his thighs, to the part of him that ached to be touched. “Holy Hell Fire.”
Cora chuckled softly. “Men are such pussies.”
If she only knew how badly he wanted to thrust inside her pretty kitty. “Your comment warrants further explanation, sugar.” His voice sounded hoarse and strained, like a man holding onto his composure by an unraveling thread. He tried to pull his foot from her grip.
She held on, a challenge in those dark eyes. Her fingernail scraped against his arch.
Trent suppressed a groan.
“Dude.” She laughed. “We’re not going to hav
e sex. Didn’t you ever sit in a girl’s dorm room and get a massage during finals week?”
He shook his head. “I went to BYU on a scholarship. We had to sign a code of conduct – no girls in the dorm, no pre-marital sex. I couldn’t afford to lose my full-ride.” Not when the alternative was to play college football for his cussing, beer guzzling, co-ed dating dad.
“That explains it,” she said.
“What?”
“You assumed my kiss meant we were going to shed some clothes and make a connection.” She placed his right foot on the floor and took his other shoe off. “You know, you can return the favor.” She wiggled her toes.
He didn’t think he could touch her. He was holding onto his erection for dear life. If he touched her and relaxed his hold…
“Chicken.”
A challenge. He was a sucker for a challenge. The music was blaring and vibrating through his chest as if he was sitting on a cheap motel bed and had inserted a couple of quarters. Shades of high school and lost virginity.
He placed her foot in his lap, resting her heel next to his balls. This was going to hurt later.
Hell, it hurt now.
The arch of her foot was smooth and soft. He hadn’t been with a woman since he left Rachel in March. Five months of celibacy made a man bat-smack crazy, crazy enough to nearly orgasm at a woman’s touch on his feet. His wife hadn’t appreciated foreplay. It didn’t fit into her prim, over-scheduled life. Holy Mama, he hadn’t remembered what he was missing.
He mimicked Cora’s technique – small circles, firm pressure.
“Are you sure you never did this before? You’re a natural.” She closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the wall. Her legs fell slightly apart, sliding her short, black skirt higher up her thighs, revealing red lace.
Trent tensed again.
Her eyes flew open. “What’s wrong?”
His heart pounded. His head pounded. His package pounded. His mouth was dry with wanting her.
Not her. Sex, he chastised himself.
Her, his dick contradicted. Now.
“The bathroom is down here.” A muffled woman’s voice in the hallway.
Trent couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Vivian Gordon. He scrambled to his feet and started hammering the door with his fists.
“Who’s in there?” A familiar, male voice with a gravelly grumble. Archie. Of all the people who had to pee, it had to be Dad.
“We’re locked in,” Trent yelled.
“What’s wrong?” Vivian’s voice again. “Is someone stuck in there?”
“Not hardly,” Cora murmured behind him.
Someone fiddled with the door knob. Finally, the door swung open.
“Oh,” Vivian said. And then as she saw Cora behind him and added, “Oh.” Her smile widened. She laughed and walked away.
Cora shoved Trent’s shoes at his chest, darted around him and stepped into the hallway, her little dog at her heels.
Archie’s grin stretched from one ear to the other. “It’s about time.”
“It’s not what you think.” Trent slipped on his shoes and hurried after Cora.
“Don’t waste your breath,” Cora said over her shoulder. “Denial doesn’t work. This is L.A., the home of hot rumors.” Cora was almost to the living room. “Hurry up, Brutus.”
“My name isn’t...Dang.” The dog’s name was Brutus. “I thought you were calling me.” With some kind of boy-toy nickname.
“I won’t be calling you.” Her conviction needled what little dignity he had left. “And you won’t be calling me, Reverend.”
“You can bet on that,” he mumbled, much to his dick’s dismay.
~*~
“What are you doing? I saw you coming out of the bathroom with Coach Parker.” Gemma accosted Cora in one corner of Jack’s large living room. “Do you think Coach Parker and his reputation are some kind of challenge?”
Cora wasn’t even going to ask the Dooley Foundation receptionist what she was doing at Jack Gordon’s party. Gemma was a jack-of-all trades – errand girl, support staff, pitch-in-wherever-needed, pain in Cora’s ass. Gemma had decided months ago that Cora was an insubstantial fashion plate wired for cheap sex. She’d been Cora’s nemesis ever since.
Cora knew she deserved some of her reputation, but not any of Gemma’s censure. Her sex life was no one’s business but her own. “Don’t paint me as the villainess in whatever romance you’re reading lately.”
“What you’re doing is like trying to bring down someone the caliber of Peyton Manning or John Madden.” Gemma’s spiteful manner was tempered by her picking up Brutus and cuddling him. “Can’t you leave sports coaching to Amber? She knows what she’s doing.”
Across the room, Coach Parker’s young assistant watched Gemma with the wide eyes of the star-struck. It wasn’t lust in his eyes. Gemma, in her fashion-mistake-clunky combat boots, black skirt, tight curls, and Poindexter glasses, wasn’t one to inspire lust. No, this guy was looking at Gemma with cupid-struck, date-appreciation eyes.
“Why don’t you focus more on mingling – ” Cora made a subtle gesture with her head in the assistant coach’s direction. “ – and less on things you don’t understand. You worked for my dad and he was no saint.” Understatement of the Millennium.
Gemma scoffed, but said nothing more as Amber and Evan walked up to them, indicating it was time to leave. Without any acknowledgment of her admirer – the girl had no boy radar – Gemma wasted no time. She handed Brutus back to Cora and made her exit. It took a few more minutes for Amber and Evan to say their goodbyes.
“I’m instituting a hands-off rule on Trent Parker.” Amber led the way down Jack’s driveway, away from the party noise. “I saw him drag you away from the bar. When are you going to open up and get to know someone before you get to know someone?”
“You sound like Daddy.” When he’d remembered he had a young daughter whose mother was gone far too often. Brutus shifted in her shoulder bag. “Nothing happened.” Not that Amber would believe her.
“Sex solves nothing,” Amber quipped.
Behind her, Evan cleared his throat.
“Oh, don’t you start.” Amber sounded as if she’d been married for years, not less than two months.
“You made me a promise on national television.” In two strides, Evan blocked their path on the walk and gazed at Amber in a way no man had ever looked at Cora – love laced with desire. “A family.”
“We have a family. I gave you siblings,” Amber muttered, watching a dark green Jag drive past.
Evan washed a hand over his shaggy hair. “The season is starting. I’ll be traveling most of the time and – ”
“We were talking about Foundation business.” Amber sounded defeated, not angry.
“You’re trying to have a baby.” Cora felt like thunking her head. Why hadn’t she realized? When she’d returned from her honeymoon, Amber had given up caffeine and alcohol.
“Cora.” Amber sighed.
Evan took Amber’s hand, making Cora feel uncomfortably like a third wheel.
“Cora.” Amber’s voice noticeably softened. “Make sure nothing continues to happen with Coach Parker. We need you to meet your sales quota early.”
Amber and Blue were always saying shit like that. They tossed her big clients as if she’d been at the Foundation for five years instead of five mostly-miserable months. Cora was a quick study, but her experience as a life coach could fit in a tweet or two. Okay, maybe a long Facebook post.
But now she understood. There were The Other Rules Blue and Amber deemed it so important to find. But they also wanted her to get up to speed so Amber could take time off when the baby came. Only Amber seemed to be putting off having a baby until Cora met the conditions of Daddy’s will. As much as Cora didn’t want to acknowledge her sales quota was tied to their new half-sibs, she had to acknowledge Amber’s longing for a family of her own.
“I won’t let you down.” Cora promised. “You can get pregnant any time.”
“No,” Amber murmured. “I can’t.”
Cora’s heart panged.
“Miss Cora!” It was Archie. He wobbled on the front porch, as if tipsy. “This party’s winding down. I bet you know where to find the best action in town.”
“Make some excuse,” Amber said softly. “I need you to be responsible. Look at Coach Parker standing behind him. He’s frowning.”
Trent’s frown was as large as a jumbotron. Cora couldn’t tell if it was directed at her, Archie, or both. It didn’t matter. Cora felt squeezed by negative expectations.
“I am responsible, unlike Daddy.” There was a limit to the amount of bossing Cora could take in one day. She turned to Amber. “Responsible is putting your name on a baby’s birth certificate. Responsible is showing up for work every day to a job you were forced to take and working toward an impossible sales quota with impossible clients.” She smoothed her skirt. “You and I may approach life differently, but we’re both responsible.” Cora gave Archie her most mischievous smile, satisfied to see the Reverend’s frown deepen. “I’ll help you make time for motherhood and find Daddy’s other kids, but you have to give me space.”
Amber’s frown mirrored Trent’s. “But – ”
“She’ll be okay.” Evan tugged Cora’s hair. “Let her go, babe.”
With a belabored sigh, Amber did.
Chapter 6
It was just after midnight when Cora entered the lobby of the Beverly Hilton with Archie. She’d taken him on a bar crawl, four bars in four hours. The old man had been drinking steadily, but pacing himself. Mostly, he’d talked her ear off about his young fiancée.
“I’ll get going as soon as you pick up your key.” Cora didn’t have to escort him in. Archie wasn’t drunk. But there was her crap day and as soon as Archie was off to his room, she was off the clock. The hotel lounge was calling her name. She knew for a fact that this dark, swanky bar made a mean margarita on the rocks.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 5