Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  Aaron pulled into a driveway and stopped beside an electronic keypad on a stanchion beside the gate. He pressed in five numbers and waited as the gate swung open, then pulled through to a garage, whose door opened as if by magic. Inside the garage, Rebecca’s eyes widened as she took in the line of cars, from Range Rovers to Mercedes Benzs.

  “How big is your family, Aaron?” she asked in amazement.

  “My mother sold her home so she and my nephew are staying here for a few weeks, until Musa can finish school for this year. Then both of them will join my sister and her husband in Berlin. Otherwise, I live here alone.” He caught her examining the line of cars and looked a bit sheepish. “I like cars,” he said.

  “I guess so,” she answered on a laugh.

  He started to smile, then doubtless recalled that he was furious with her and he was back to being all business. He stood, rounded the car before she could even reach for the door handle, and held the door for her. Once she had alighted, he removed her suitcase from the trunk and directed her ahead of him toward the courtyard with an impatient flick of his hand.

  Aaron ushered her along a crushed gravel path lined with bushes and flowering plants that gave splashes of color to the inviting space. An imposing double front door was set into the entryway. Aaron turned the knob and pushed it open, waiting silently for her to step onto the entryway tiled with quarried marble. With a quick glance at his stolid expression, Rebecca took a breath and stepped inside.

  If she’d found the outside of the house imposing, the inside was much more so. The creamy marble floor was edged by a band of darker marble which gave it a rich, finished appearance. The center was dominated by a round mahogany table topped by a huge spray of flowers. The walls on each side of the entryway held paintings, mostly French Impressionist prints. Beneath them, were lushly padded benches with gold leaf-covered legs.

  Rebecca doubted that anyone ever sat there to remove their muddy shoes.

  She had grown up in a modest house in Phoenix, and now lived in a modest one of her own. She had never seen anything like this. Eyes wide, she stared around the room, and then at Aaron, who was still regarding her with a frown.

  “I’ll show you to . . . .”

  “Oh good, you’re home,” a woman’s voice interrupted. The rapid clicking of her heels sounded her approach. She rounded the corner and rocked to a stop when she spotted Rebecca.

  “Hello, Mother,” Aaron said smoothly. “I’ve brought a guest to join us this evening, and possibly stay a few days.”

  Rebecca wasn’t going to let that one pass. She gave him a quick glance, then smiled graciously at his mother. “Probably only overnight.”

  “We’ll see.” His tone was flat, but warmed when he spoke to his mother. “This is Rebecca Perris, an old friend from the United States. Rebecca, this is my mother, Sara.”

  Sara nodded her head graciously, but her eyes were full of questions. “Welcome,” she said. “I will show you where you can freshen up.” She looked at her son. “We only have about twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be ready.” Turning, he strode away, carrying Rebecca’s suitcase. He trotted lightly up the stairs, leaving the two women to follow in his wake.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Rebecca ventured as they mounted the stairs. Sara was exquisitely dressed in a simple below the knee skirt in a rich, dark green fabric. Her long-sleeved white blouse was subtly embroidered around the hem and cuffs in the same shade of green. Her black shoes were flat buttery soft leather.

  Her home and her clothing told Rebecca that Sara appeared to be a woman of simple, understated elegance. If she was curious about her sudden guest, she wasn’t obvious about it. Instead, she thanked Rebecca for the compliment and continued up the steps.

  At the top of the stairs, they reached a long hallway with many doors opening off of it. Sara went to the first one on the left, and opened it. Rebecca’s suitcase sat on a large blanket chest at the foot of a magnificent four-poster bed. It was covered with a deep red matelassé spread that matched the drapes. Elegant chairs flanked the French doors that opened onto a balcony.

  Sara pointed out the bathroom, which was as elegant as everything else in the house, and asked. “Would you like someone to come and unpack for you?”

  “No, thank you,” Rebecca answered quickly. “I’ll only be here overnight.”

  Sara’s lips twitched, but she simply said, “Aaron said you were friends in the United States. He hasn’t been there in several years.”

  “So you’re wondering how we met?”

  “Yes.” Sara folded her hands at her waist, waiting.

  “I’m from Phoenix, Arizona. My entire family knew Aaron and the other pilots from Côte de Diamant who were taking flight training at Luke Air Force Base.”

  “I see.” Sara frowned as if trying to recall something, then looked up. “The Sanger family?”

  Rebecca nodded, the familiar nausea rising in her stomach as she wondered how much Aaron had told his family about hers.

  But Sara smiled. “Your family was so gracious and hospitable to my son and his friends and I never properly thanked you. Welcome to our home.” This time it sounded genuine. She started to turn away. “I’ll go so you can change. Please meet us out on the back patio.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  Sara had taken several steps toward the door when she stopped in midstride, stood still for a moment, then turned. Her lovely face was suffused with sympathy. “It was your sister who died so tragically. I’m so very sorry.”

  Heat rushed through Rebecca and pooled in her face, flushing it, and yet freezing it into stiffness.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to have brought up a painful memory,” Sara said, flustered. “I truly apologize. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  She hurried from the room, leaving Rebecca to sink into a chair and bury her face in her hands. The consequences of that long ago lie kept coming back to haunt her on this terrible day. She should have been prepared for Sara to ask about Jenny, but somehow she hadn’t been. She could only blame her mind-numbing exhaustion.

  Rebecca knew she should have expected that Aaron had told his family about Jenny. After all, he had probably loved her, maybe even planned to marry her.

  ~*~

  Aaron greeted his guests, made them comfortable, offered glasses of mint tea or lemonade and kept an eye on the door that led from the house to the terrace. If Rebecca didn’t come soon he was going to go and get her. He didn’t particularly want her at this function, but he also didn’t want her trying to sneak out of the house. He still wanted an explanation.

  He decided to give her five more minutes, but before that time was up, the door opened and she appeared, dressed in a long, full skirt of midnight blue with a matching long-sleeved blouse. Inwardly, he nodded his approval, glad that she had taken into consideration the culture of his country. The outfit was a little formal for this evening at home, but it was probably the only long one she had with her. For all his annoyance with her, he was glad she had dressed modestly.

  As his mother moved up to greet her and introduce her to their guests, Aaron viewed her dispassionately. From a gangly, bookish teenager, she had grown into a beautiful woman. He had to admire the poise and determination she had shown since she had walked into his office that afternoon.

  His eyes narrowed as he watched her move easily about the room. He wanted to shatter that poise and determination, watch those eyes grow dark with desire as he tortured her delightfully with his mouth, his tongue, hands, and body. He wanted to listen to her voice grow husky as she begged for release, then moan with pleasure and cry out when he allowed her to achieve that release. He wanted her to whisper, in the satisfied aftermath of mind-shattering sex, how he’d made her feel, to confess that she had thought of him as many times over the years as he had thought of her, to absolve him of the guilt he’d felt for lusting after a sixteen-year-old.

  And she was another man’s wife.

  Frustrated and furious, he
forced himself to shove those thoughts into a corner of his mind. He would deal with them, with her, but not right now. He had guests, a duty to perform.

  Rebecca must surely be exhausted, but she was listening politely to the trade delegate from Italy as he talked about shoes.

  Aaron wondered where her husband was and why the man had allowed her to make this trip alone. Aaron was in favor of women having careers, families, adventures, whatever they could do. After all, his mother owned her own business, which was where he had learned about trade and commerce. However, it was a dangerous thing for Rebecca to have traveled here on her own, especially considering her intention to visit Isbahar.

  Unless, she hadn’t told her husband. Maybe the poor fool was at home, blissfully ignorant of his wife’s real plan. She might have lied to him.

  Aaron knew firsthand what an accomplished liar she was.

  ~*~

  Rebecca didn’t know how she was going to get away from the charming, but garrulous Italian who was obsessed with shoes. She was beginning to wonder if it was a true interest – or a fetish. At last, Sara seemed to notice Rebecca’s glazed look and stepped up easily to say, “Signori Corelli, please come and meet Mr. Smythe–Worthington from Great Britain. I’m certain you will have a great deal in common.” She smiled at Rebecca. “Since grilling is such a very American thing to do, would you be so kind as to go over and make sure my son is doing it correctly? I’m afraid his enthusiasm may have outweighed his expertise.”

  Puzzled, Rebecca looked around. She had been so focused on changing her clothes, finding her way to the terrace, in getting her bearings, that she had temporarily lost track of Aaron.

  There was the master of the house, positioned before a large gas barbecue grill, tongs in hand, sleeves rolled up, wearing a white chef’s apron. He was watching the meat on the grill as carefully as he had no doubt once watched the instrument panel in his fighter jet.

  He looked more approachable than he had since she had told him the truth about Jenny, so she walked up to him and said, “Your mother seems to think you may need grilling advice.”

  He shot her a quick, sidelong glance. “She doesn’t have much faith in my abilities since she’s tasted a few of my . . . .”

  “Blunders?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone has to learn. I finally bought a book on the subject.”

  She smiled, picturing him studying a cookbook. His lips almost quirked into a smile, but he seemed to recall who he was talking to and frowned instead. “I want to talk to you later,” he said. “I want to know the truth.”

  “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “No.” And that was it, unquestionable, unequivocal. He was going to get the answers from her tonight no matter what.

  “It may not be what you want to hear,” she said, just to make sure he didn’t think he was having the last word.

  “All I want is the truth.” He glanced down at the meat on the grill, then nodded to a servant who hovered nearby. The man swooped in with a platter onto which Aaron piled his masterpieces. As the man bore the platter to the table, Aaron tossed down his tongs and took her arm in a grip that was gentle, but which she knew could tighten instantly if she tried to pull away. “The truth, Rebecca. All of it.”

  She knew she had no choice so she looked up and gave him a fake smile. “Of course,” she said sweetly. “Whatever you say.”

  His gaze seared into hers, but she glanced down at the chair that was obviously meant for her, the one right beside his, and waited for him to pull it out and hold it

  ~*~

  He hated waiting. Aaron fumed silently as the dinner and conversation dragged on. At the other end of the table, his mother expertly and tactfully interrogated the Italian about the possibility of selling him some of the Côte de Diamantian leather whose market their country was trying to grow. Around the rest of the table, his guests talked about their families, about the trade restrictions present in the world, about nothing that interested him as much as getting this evening over with and being alone with Rebecca.

  She was attempting to carry on a conversation with a taciturn Dutchman who was more interested in his food than anything else. He noticed that she had eaten only a few bites of her food, but had emptied her water glass several times.

  As a pilot, Aaron had been trained to make use of his peripheral vision and he had been aware each time she had reached for her glass and each time it had been refilled. He saw how she had played with her fork, taken a few bites, moved the food around on her plate.

  The anger he’d been feeling seemed to suddenly clear and he looked at her as he should have done hours ago. She was dehydrated, exhausted, and ready to drop. Guilt kicked him in the gut. There was no excuse for his insistence that she come to this meal. He had been focused on what he wanted from her, and not on how she must be feeling. He had abused his responsibilities as a host. As angry as he’d been with her, he didn’t have any right to do what he’d done.

  “Rebecca,” he said into the awkward silence that stretched between her and the Dutchman. “Forget what I said. As soon as this is over, you’re going to bed. We can talk tomorrow.”

  She flashed him a look of gratitude that made him feel even worse. Along with the desire that couldn’t seem to leave him alone, he felt a surge of protectiveness that shocked him.

  ~*~

  Three hours later, the guests were gone, Aaron’s mother had retired to her room and his nephew was busy playing video games. Aaron went to his own room and walked straight through the French doors onto the balcony. The night was cool and crisp as only an early summer evening in the desert could be. The lights of Côte de Diamant City rolled away before him, cars and a few late buses moved along the streets. It was so different than what he had experienced as a child when Côte de Diamant had definitely been known as a third world country. Parts of it still were, but there was industry now where poverty had been the norm, schools were being built and prosperity was in the air.

  Dinners like tonight’s and meetings with trade legislations from other countries were signs of growth which he wanted to encourage, as did his government. There were plans going into place that were vital to his nation and to him. As soon as his nephew finished school and his mother took Musa to Germany to join his parents, Aaron was going to close up his house and return to the United States, probably for many years and work to establish trade and business connections that would benefit his country.

  Everything had been in place and moving forward until Rebecca Sanger -- Rebecca Perris he reminded himself, had turned up. It was a temporary glitch. She would be gone in a few days, whether it would be with or without her sister he didn’t know, and then he would get back to normal.

  Thinking of her, of the lie she had told him, stung like nothing he could recall. Yes, she had been young, and obviously furious with him about something, but what? And why tell him such a thing when there was every possibility that he would find out the truth?

  Only he hadn’t. The lie would have remained hidden if not for the wild twist of fate that had brought her to Côte de Diamant, to his office, and back into his life. Thinking of her, he turned and glanced at the door to her room, and saw to his surprise, that it was open and a light was on. Concerned, he strode over to close it and saw that she was lying across the bed, still fully dressed.

  Guilt kicked at him. She’d been so tired that she hadn’t had the strength to undress. She may have lain down thinking that she would get up in a minute and prepare for bed. Or she had simply fallen on the bed, not caring whether she undressed or not.

  He could call one of the servants, or even his mother to come and help her. This wasn’t his responsibility, and his mother would have been scandalized if she knew how he’d treated his guest.

  But it was his house, and he was drawn to her. He closed the door silently, walked to the bed and reached down to smooth her hair away from her face. The red-gold brightness of it drifted across the bedspread and he studied her features, the
delicate nose and full, lush lips. He remembered that she’d been thin and lithe, but strong at sixteen. That couldn’t be said of her now. She was thin, but it wasn’t a healthy thinness.

  Her thick lashes lay along her cheekbones and there were deep circles under her eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed them before? Probably because he’d been so focused on his anger. He reached down to touch one and then made a soft sound of surprise.

  No, he hadn’t noticed them because she had covered them with makeup which had now rubbed off. Curious, he reached down, unbuttoned the cuff of her sleeve, and rolled it up to reveal a too-thin arm. He loosened the neck of her blouse and saw the prominent collar bones. While he was at it, he unbuttoned the waistband of her skirt, slid down the zipper and pulled her blouse up to check her ribs, which stood out prominently.

  Where he’d felt anger and then desire for her, he now experienced an upwelling of pity. She was starved, whether on purpose or not, he didn’t know, but he doubted that it was deliberate. She had told him about her father and about her search for her sister. He remembered at dinner she had barely touched her food but had drunk glass after glass of water. Was she starved because she wouldn’t eat or because she couldn’t?

  Aaron pulled up a chair and sat looking down at her. Even underweight and her eyes darkened with circles, he felt desire crawl through his gut and pool in his groin. What kind of pathetic bastard did that make him? Lusting after another man’s wife. He seemed to be stuck in the past, remembering the girl she had been rather than the woman she had become – whatever that was.

  He remembered something else about her, too. As a teenager, in spite of her sweet looks, she’d had attitude. He’d caught on quickly that she wasn’t like most girls he knew. She was sharp-witted and quick to respond to any chauvinistic remark he’d made – on purpose just to hear what she’d say. He’d liked that about her right away because her bright mind, firm opinions, and sense of adventure had reminded him of his American grandmother.