Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  “Hmm.” Fletcher walked up and down the hallway. “Strange that only your place is burned, Cara.” A strip of yellow crime scene tape with black lettering was strung up and down the hall, sealing off our loft. Holes had been chopped in the walls, presumably by the firefighters to release trapped gases. The corridor reeked to high heaven. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”

  “What happened to your fancy-schmancy security guy?”

  “He’s been overseeing the installation of a new security system in your workshop, not watching your place. We didn’t think anything would happen here with you away.”

  Tom opened his door. Surprising, since I thought he’d be working. His bony frame was draped in his usual worn jeans and chambray workshirt. A frown flickered over Fletcher’s features, replaced by a vague, pleasant smile as he advanced and extended a hand.

  “I’m Fletcher Wolf, Ms. Fletcher’s, er, partner. When did this happen?” Fletch nodded at the extensive damage as the males shook hands.

  “Just last night. I’m Tom Lenox. Cara, how’re ya doin’?”

  “Better before I got here,” I said. “Did the police come out?”

  “Yeah, and a bunch of fire trucks, too. They seemed to think it was an electrical fire. Hey, Nat, I have your birds. They’re okay. Wanna see ‘em?”

  Natalie nodded and went inside Tom’s apartment, moving with the ease of familiarity. Happy that she was out of the way, I realized that I didn’t want her in the hall contemplating the ruins of our home. God. What were we going to do? She started back at school in just a few days, and we had no home, no clothes except the contents of our suitcases, nothing, zip, zero.

  I stumbled down the hall toward the gap which had formerly housed my front door. My beautiful pine door, which I’d finished myself. Pushing down the yellow tape, I tried to get in. I could see that in the entry, portions of the walls showed blackened streaks. The varnish on the pine had bubbled. The peculiar miasma made my stomach pitch.

  Fletch grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I want to check out the damage.”

  “No way.” Tom had followed us down the hall. “Your floors aren’t safe. They said the hallway from the stairs to our door’s okay, though, and our place is all right, but I’m not taking a chance. We’re staying with Ellie’s mom in Brooklyn. I just came by to get some clothes.”

  I peered through one of the holes in the wall into my home, trying not to cry, but my throat and eyes stung with unshed tears. “We need to call the police,” I said to Fletcher. “And my insurance company.” I dragged at my hair. The despair deep in my stomach threatened to engulf me, but I refused to give in to the panic. “What are we going to do?”

  Fletch put his arm around me. “Honey, I’m gonna make sure that no one ever harms you or Natalie, ever again.” Though his touch felt warm and comforting, his hard amber eyes held an expression I’d never seen. Alpha wolf protecting his packmates, I thought, my tension easing. I hoped my faith wasn’t misplaced.

  His voice was curt. “Tom, please ask Natalie to collect her birds. Cara’s jet-lagged and tired. We need to go.”

  Tom nodded and withdrew.

  I asked, “Why were you so short with Tom? He’s a good friend.”

  His mouth made an uncompromising line. “I don’t rule out any suspects.”

  “Suspects? He said it was an electrical fire.”

  “Is that so? I don’t understand why this man’s place is basically untouched while yours is destroyed.”

  “You think Tom’s responsible? You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. Does he know Maggie Andersen?”

  My jaw clenched. “Yes, he does. He worked with her at Claiborne. He recommended her to me. But—but—”

  “But what? The man looks like a hopped-up biker. Is he on meth?”

  “No! Tom’s a good father. Natalie plays with his daughter in his place all the time. Are you questioning my parenting abilities?”

  “No, of course not.” He sighed and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Honey, I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Let’s collect Natalie and go, all right?”

  “Okay. I guess we’ll stay at a hotel until I can rent another place.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “Really?”

  He eyed me. “Yes, really. I protect my investments. Too many weird things have happened to you. I want you under my eye at all times.”

  ~*~

  I was a foul brew of rocking, roiling emotions, fighting nausea born of anger and fear as I lugged my tapestry garment bag and my satchel—all my worldly possessions—down the thickly carpeted hallway of Fletcher’s Trump Tower condo. I turned right at the first doorway into a bedroom, wondering if it was mine.

  Immaculate as any luxury hotel room awaiting a guest, there were no obvious clues to the room’s occupancy. Its sole distinguishing feature was the boxes set on every possible surface, including the windowsills and the nightstand. Jolted out of my funk, I dropped my bags and gawked, enchanted.

  Elaborately carved wooden boxes ordinarily would have impressed me but, in this grand company, they didn’t capture my eye before I was diverted to more flashy or unusual items, which included enameled, glass, even stone boxes. Indeed, the word “box” seemed inadequate to describe these objects, most of which would have borne the title “sculpture” comfortably.

  Hearing a rustle, I turned. Fletcher lounged in the doorway.

  “Is this my room?” I asked.

  He came toward me, as gorgeous and predatory as the timber wolf whose name he shared. Now that I knew what he could do to me in the sack he turned me on even more. “Sure, if you want.”

  I grasped his meaning just before he came in for a kiss. “Now wait a min—”

  He evidently viewed my open mouth as an opportunity, because he plunged in without a shred of inhibition, as usual. He slid his arms around me, tucking his hands into the back pockets of my jeans. Pulling me close, he deepened the kiss while caressing my entire body with his. Whoa. When he finally let me go, I was totally turned on despite the awful situation.

  I stared at him, silent. I didn’t know what to say. His kisses always seemed to swipe my mind clean, like a sandblaster scouring graffiti off a wall.

  “C’mere, Mom.” Natalie darted into the room and grabbed my hand, dragging me out. “Our rooms are at the end of the hall. They’re really neat. We have our own bedrooms and bathroom and everything.” She hauled me into an elegant, ivory carpeted bedroom.

  “What were you doing?” she hissed at me, apparently horrified. “That was Fletch’s room. You can’t stay in his room.”

  Guiltily aware that Natalie had no idea what had transpired in Italy, I recovered the power of speech. “It was an innocent mistake.”

  “Yeah, right. It was obviously his bedroom. It even smelled like his cologne.”

  I eyed her with concern. “You notice a man’s cologne? Sweetie, you’re growing up too fast.”

  She drew up her slim little body. “I notice everything about the man my mother is becoming involved with.”

  “I’m not involved with him.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s why you’re all red. Let’s get our bags and unpack.”

  “I don’t know why we have to bother,” I grumbled. “We won’t be staying long.”

  “Why not?” Fletcher stood in the doorway with my bags.

  I glared at him. “It just isn’t a good idea.”

  “Yeah, why not, Mom?” Natalie asked. She stood next to him, the two presenting a united front.

  “It wouldn’t be…it wouldn’t be…” Oh, God, what do I say now? “It wouldn’t be entirely proper.”

  They stared at me as though I’d suggested wrestling a rattler for light entertainment. His chuckle grew into hearty laughter. “Not entirely proper? Oh, honey, that’s too sweet.” Still laughing, he left the room, shaking his head. I’d bet my company that he was thinking about our wild weekend
in Florence. “Not entirely proper, sheesh.”

  “Wake up, Mom! We have no home.”

  “Just put away your stuff, all right? And don’t use all the drawers in the bathroom!”

  ~*~

  Darkness had fallen when I woke up. I realized that while I slept someone, most likely Fletch, had washed my dirty clothes. Nice. After I showered, I put on clean clothes. Wearing jeans scented with caviar and lovemaking wouldn’t have cut it.

  I wandered into the kitchen, where Fletch fussed at an electric range. Natalie was giving fresh water to the lovebirds. She wore a cameo ring like mine on the index finger of her right hand. “Did you thank Fletch for your gift?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Thanks, Fletch.”

  “Natalie!”

  “I’m kidding. Of course I did.”

  “Don’t sass your mama.” He stirred a sizzling pan of vegetables.

  She shot him a long, cool look.

  I sighed. Our Trump Tower sojourn would be hell if those two didn’t make peace. Why hadn’t he changed his approach to her now that he knew she had issues? I didn’t have the energy to deal with him now. Despite the hours of sleep, I didn’t feel rested. Too many dreams filled with fire and smoke had interrupted my snooze. “So what’s for supper?”

  “Vegetable stir-fry on Chinese noodles. We’ve eaten out so much lately that I wanted an evening at home.”

  “Umm.” This place wasn’t home, but why argue? “Nat, did you nap a little?”

  Natalie nodded, her damp, curly hair waving over her shoulders. She wore clean shorts and a T-shirt reading “Virginia is for lovers.”

  Fletch must have caught sight of the direction of my gaze because he said, “Maybe I should take you to Darkrider Farm soon. Natalie, do you think your mom would like Virginia?”

  “Yep.” She poked a stick at Chelsea, who chittered before fluttering to the other side of the cage.

  I shoved a hand through my hair. “Maybe we should go shopping after supper. I’m the wrong color.”

  “What?” Fletch turned, staring.

  “This red hair. It’s all wrong.” I bit my lip. “On top of that, I have only one pair of contacts, which is boring, and no clothes. Neither does Nat.”

  “I don’t understand. Red hair was fine last week. What’s wrong with it now?” he asked.

  “I feel as though I’m wearing a stop light on my head. Doesn’t suit my mood.”

  “If you say so. But I’ll miss my little carrot-top.” He drained the noodles in a colander, adding splashes of sesame and chili oil. “But you can’t go tonight. We’re expecting the arson investigator to bring the report.”

  “Oh.” Tension seized my shoulders.

  “It’s all right, Cara mia. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” He divided the noodles into three portions, dumping them into bowls decorated with blue carp. The veggies went over the noodles with sprinkles of sesame seeds and crumbled seaweed.

  “Awfully strange fare for a meat and potatoes man,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m aware of your tastes, honey, as well as my cholesterol count.”

  My mind tilted and whirled, as though I was on a carnival ride. I had never envisioned myself living in the world of Leave It to Beaver with Fletcher playing Mrs. Cleaver. Ann’s lousy dossier hadn’t revealed that corporate raider Fletcher Wolf knew one end of a wooden spoon from the other, let alone that he liked nori and sesame on his stir-fry. I’d expected better from hotshot AnnMarie Slye.

  The arson investigator, a short, dapper black gentleman, arrived at nine o’clock. He introduced himself as Jonas Draper. I’d expected a firefighter in uniform, but Draper wore a suit and carried a briefcase.

  “Thank you for coming out so late,” I said as Fletch led the three of us into a small, wood-paneled study. I chose a straight-backed chair. I didn’t want to sit on a sofa and risk Fletch snuggling with me.

  “No problem.” Draper sat on the leather-covered armchair Fletch indicated. “I work night shift. I was on duty when the call on your place came through at four in the morning yesterday, or rather, today.”

  “Four o’clock?” What the hell? I felt as though the devil had dragged me out of my comfortable world and thrown me into a particularly evil parallel universe. “Fletch, if we’d come home on time...” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The implications were too ghastly.

  “I know,” he said. He turned to the investigator. “We’ve been told that it looked like an electrical fire.”

  Draper frowned as he removed papers from his briefcase. “Who said that?”

  “One of Cara’s neighbors.”

  Draper’s brow cleared. “Yes, we told the neighbors that so as not to worry them. Actually, the fire appears to have been deliberately set.”

  My gut twisted, and I closed my eyes, feeling ill.

  Fletch took over the conversation. “Mr. Draper, Ms. Fletcher and I just returned from Europe today, but we’d originally planned to come back yesterday. If we’d returned on schedule, Cara and her daughter would have been asleep in that home. If it was arson, you’ll have to consider this case as an attempted murder.”

  “Oh, it was arson, all right. There are traces of accelerant in the townhouse, especially in the upper-story bedroom.” Draper handed Fletch a stapled sheaf of papers. “Here’s the preliminary report. It looks as though the perpetrator broke through the skylight, dumped gasoline through the hole, and tossed in a match. With all the varnished wood, the loft bedroom went up like a torch. The rest of the apartment sustained heavy structural and smoke damage.”

  “Excuse me.” In a feeble attempt to keep my dignity, I dragged myself into the kitchen before ralphing half-digested stir-fry in the sink. After rinsing my mouth, I leaned my elbows on the tiled counter. My vision blurred. Raising my head, I heard the rumble of Fletcher’s bass as he showed the investigator out, followed by a burst of canned laughter from the T.V. program Natalie watched in the living room.

  Tears flooded my eyes as Fletch’s arm wrapped around my shoulders. “Oh, honey. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

  “S-someone tried to k-kill us.”

  “I know, baby, I know.”

  “Who? Why?”

  He kissed the tears off my cheeks. “Someone who’s in a lot of trouble, believe me.”

  “Adam, M-maggie, Tom...and where’s Damon?”

  “Oh, baby, it wasn’t Damon. He can be quick-tempered, but it wasn’t Damon. Trust me, he didn’t make a move while we were away that Sam didn’t know about. Damon was more than happy to have Sam at his beck and call while we were gone.”

  “I d-don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this, anything that’s happened.” I buried my head in his shirt. He felt so good, so warm and comforting.

  He hugged me fiercely. “I don’t understand either, baby. I don’t understand why your assistant, after an excellent track record in business for a decade, suddenly decides to embezzle from you. I don’t understand why your workshop gets trashed and your house burned. I don’t understand anything, but I swear to you that by the end of this, I sure as hell will, and whoever’s responsible will pay.”

  He took a deep breath, and his grip tightened. “No one, but no one is going to mess with you again. Now come on, let’s go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

  ~*~

  Fletcher kept his word. I went to bed without him for the first time in nearly a week, but again, I couldn’t rest. Stressed-out behind belief, I wanted to fall asleep nestled in his arms, but I didn’t want to be so weak. I didn’t know how long he’d be around, so I figured I’d better take care of myself and Nat rather than depend upon him. Men could be flakes—Kenney had proven that.

  Besides, there was still the Natalie factor. I had to set an example.

  The digital clock by my bed read 1:08 when I crept out of bed to check on Nat. The air conditioning in the condo cool enough that my naked skin prickled and chilled as I stole down the hall.

  The door to her room was ajar. I peeked through t
he gap to see moonlight glinting off her hair, flung over the pillow like a wind-whipped flag.

  Warm breath stirred the hairs at my temple.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered.

  Taking my arm, Fletcher led me away from Natalie’s door and to my bedroom. “Same as you. I couldn’t sleep. Decided to check out who was rambling around the house at one a.m. The security here’s good, but we can’t be too careful.” His watchful topaz eyes glimmered in the dim light.

  “I can’t sleep from worrying.”

  “Honey, there’s no use fretting. We’ll find out more in the morning. Now let’s get some rest.” He held out his arms.

  “You’re off-limits.”

  “I know. But what’s more important, how we look to Natalie or our health? She’s asleep. Tomorrow’s a big day. Next week’s bigger still. We have a show in two months.” Fletch walked me down the hall to my room.

  “We?” I couldn’t help smiling. The thought of the big bad Wolf putting on a fashion show tickled my funny bone.

  “Yes,” he said firmly, shutting the door. “We. You and me and Damon and whoever he finds to help us out.”

  “Ummm.” I slipped between the sheets, snuggled into the pillow, and closed my eyes.

  The bed creaked when he lay down beside me, but he stayed outside the bedclothes. Probably doesn’t need to get any hotter, I thought, and chuckled.

  “What’s funny?” Spooning me, he cuddled.

  “You.”

  His voice sounded mystified. “I’m glad I’m entertaining.”

  “You are. You are definitely the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

  “Funny you should say that.” He nuzzled my neck.

  I purred with pleasure. “Why?”

  “I feel the same way, honey. I just can’t stay away from you. Never could.”

  “Then we’re a matched set.”

  “We are. Like the top and bottom of a box.”

  “And you collect boxes, don’t you?”

  “Uh-hmm.” He draped an arm around my waist, anchoring me close.

  “So I’m part of your collection,” I said, too tired to be miffed.