Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  “A very prized part. Now go to sleep.”

  He stroked my hair, a soothing touch. Next thing I knew, sunlight poured through the curtains and the scent of Zanzibar coffee drifted past my nostrils.

  I sat up, pulling the sheet around my breasts. Fletch was gone, but Natalie stood in the doorway, clad in her Raiders T-shirt, rubbing her eyes. Her hair, a wild, tangled cloud, surrounded her sleepy face.

  “Oh, darling. We should have braided your hair before you went to bed.”

  “I was too tired.”

  “We’ll pay for it today. Bring me your brush, and I’ll get out the tangles.”

  She disappeared, quickly replaced by Fletch, who carried a mug. He handed it to me. “Hello, sleepyhead.”

  I took the coffee, sniffing the steam which curled from the dark surface. “Yum, thank you.” After sipping, I set down the cup on the bedside table as she came back into the room, hairbrush in hand. She ignored Fletch as she plopped down on my bed, and I wondered how long he’d let that go by. I winked at him over her shoulder, then started to brush out my daughter’s hair.

  “Good morning, Natalie.” Fletch’s Virginia timbre carried more than a hint of amusement, as though he enjoyed his combat with her.

  Who would break first? Natalie could be as stubborn as a stuck door, but Fletcher was both the original irresistible force and the immovable object. I decided to take a hint from his attitude and enjoy the process.

  “Good morning, Mr. Wolf,” Natalie recited in a sing-song voice.

  “Oh, you can call me Fletch. We’re living together. We don’t need any more Mr. and Ms., do we?”

  Her head jerked, and I accidentally pulled her hair. “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, honey, but you need to keep still.” I met his eyes, which brimmed with laughter.

  “And I’m wearing shorts,” he said. “No way can someone in shorts with their knobby knees hanging out be a mister. Okay?”

  “If you say so.” She shrugged, again causing a yank. “Mo-om!”

  I gave up. “If you’re going to squirm, you can brush your own hair. Get the tangles out, and I’ll braid it for you. And get dressed. We’re going shopping today.”

  She headed out.

  Fletch sat on my bed. “Now I can say good morning properly.” He leaned over to kiss me.

  I gave him a brief peck and a quick, futile push. I couldn’t move a mountain off of my bed. “Scram. No hanky-panky with Natalie around.”

  He didn’t budge an inch. “This isn’t hanky. Or panky. Just a friendly good morning kiss.” He scooted closer to tip up my chin with one finger. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

  “Of course.” My heart started to beat faster. How did he do that?

  His lips nibbled mine. “So, good morning, sweetheart. I slept well. Did you?”

  I picked up my coffee, then put it back down. A hot beverage wasn’t necessary at this point, since I was already hot enough. Feverish, even. “Yeah, as soon as we lay down together, I fell right asleep.”

  “You just keep that in mind.” Standing, he stretched, arms reaching for the ceiling. The muscles under his polo shirt bunched and flowed.

  I gulped. With Fletch only one bedroom away, celibacy was going to be tougher than I thought.

  Chapter 17

  “Hey, Fletch! Lookit my new bra!” Natalie danced into Fletcher’s study, waving a tiny white training bra over her head as though it were a trophy and she an Amazon warrior returning triumphant from battle.

  I followed to see Fletcher, who stood near the sliding glass doors to his balcony, back away. His eyes bulged, and his face flushed. He banged his shoulder on the metal doorpost as he tried to escape.

  “Good afternoon, Fletch.” I said demurely, in a voice I hoped matched my new brunette ’do. “We indulged in some retail therapy at Bloomie’s. Would you like to see the rest of our purchases?”

  “Natalie, honey, I really don’t need to see your underthings, okay?” He sounded forced.

  She shot him a sly look from under her lashes. “But this is my first bra, Fletch. Mom says I’m becoming a woman.”

  His mouth opened and closed, sort of like a grouper. Not even the yellow suspenders with the little horseshoes had been so funny. I tried hard not to laugh, but he was just too cute— Father Knows Best at his worst. Pressing my lips together, I covered my mouth with one hand.

  He said, “Th-that’s wonderful, honey. Congratulations. Umm. So where would my two women like to have dinner tonight?”

  I recovered myself. “Hmm. We had Chinese last night.”

  “How ’bout deli?” he suggested.

  “Or pizza,” Natalie said enthusiastically. “Hillary and Chelsea like to peck at the leftover crusts.”

  “We’ll have plenty of pizza on football nights,” Fletch said. “Hey, should I get season tickets to the Eagles for you two? Damon and I always go.”

  I raised my brows. “Oh, please. The Eagles? We’re Bills fans.”

  “The Bills? That figures. Upstate. But they’ll never win the Super Bowl.”

  “Yeah, their quarterback sucks,” Natalie chirped.

  He gaped.

  This time I laughed out loud. Needle-sharp Nat was full of surprises, and Fletch had just been hit with two of them. Watching them interact could be an unexpected bonus of the fire, almost fun enough to hang around for, but I had already decided not to stay with him for long. I didn’t have time to play house. Hopefully, my apartment would be rebuilt soon, and life could go back to normal.

  ~*~

  I managed to avoid being alone with Fletch for a weekend of shopping madness during which we replaced our lost wardrobes, toiletries and other necessities. He’d been a perfect gentleman, lending us the limo and Sam, then taking us out to dinner Saturday night to the Russian Tea Room. Natalie, who wore a dress, heels, and her new bra, had handled her first “grown-up” evening out with poise and aplomb. Though I was really quite proud of her, I felt a little wistful. She was growing up so fast, and I had missed so much if her childhood.

  I found that shutting the door on Fletcher at night didn’t shut off my dreams, which were all about him, but I didn’t have to fantasize anymore. Hot, wet memories of his lovemaking filled my thoughts whether I was awake or asleep.

  The sex with him had been beyond amazing. We hadn’t just had sex, we’d made love, at least the first time. I’d never again look at a brocade sofa again without getting an erotic thrill up my spine.

  The rest of the vacation had been pure, unabashed sex, getting it on, making whoopie, doing the horizontal bop, the old in-and-out...I’d taken what I wanted, and as with the best sex, my selfish taking had turned on both of us.

  And the encounter with the honey…Oh, baby!

  Well, okay. So we’d done it every which way, and it was great. But what did that mean to him? I bit my lip. Though we’d stopped boffing, Nat and I shared his life in even more intimate ways. What if she became attached? How’d she feel if the relationship tanked?

  ~*~

  Seated on the couch in Fletcher’s condo, I reached for a slice of pizza topped with julienned vegetables. Its melted cheese stretched and snapped as I lifted it out of the box, which sat on the coffee table. Next to me, he cracked open his second beer of the evening. In front of us, the Sunday evening football game occupied the television screen.

  Natalie came in, wearing her training bra, a see-through mesh top and an attitude. So much for a mellow evening.

  “I hope you’re not planning on going out wearing that,” I said as she plunked down on the couch.

  She pushed out her lower lip. “I’m going bowling with the kids from computer camp. You said it was okay this morning.”

  “That’s not the issue, and you know it.”

  “I want everyone to know I got a bra. That creep Donna’s been acting like she’s the only kid who’s growing breasts.”

  “I must have been truly evil in a past life.” Fletch mumbled.

  What was he talking abo
ut? And who cared? I eyed her and said, “No way.”

  “But you wore a top like this last year!”

  “Exactly. That was last year,” I replied. “That style’s been passé for at least eight months. Go and put something else on, pronto.”

  He stared, and I caught his eye and grinned. “Kids. You struggle for ’em, you do your best for ’em…and this is what you get. Think I should ground her?”

  He gulped more beer. “Sorry. I don’t do Mrs. Doubtfire. I didn’t have a great example to follow, remember? I’m more, uh, Homer Simpson.”

  “No, that was Kenney.”

  “Is Sam taking her to the bowling alley in the limo?”

  Obviously he couldn’t handle my adolescent daughter any better than her father had, so he changed the subject. “Yeah. She’s the envy of all her friends. I’ve gotta say, we’ll miss all this luxury when we go home.”

  “You’re going to move back to the same place?” He set down his bottle with a snap.

  “Why not? Lightning doesn’t strike twice, you know.”

  “We’re not talking about lightning,” he said through gritted teeth. “We’re talking about an insane arsonist with an obsession about you. You’re not going back there, ever.”

  “What did you say to me?” I was thoroughly ticked.

  “Did I mumble?”

  “No, but I actually thought I heard you telling me what to do and where I can and can’t live. Your authority doesn’t extend that far.”

  “Oh, yes, it does. If I have to pull rank on this one, I will. I’m not letting the most valuable asset of my corporation willfully place herself in danger.”

  Livid, I jumped to my feet. “I can’t believe this. You’re upset because an asset of your company is in danger? Pardon me for having the strange notion that I’m a person, not an asset, and that I run my own life.” I stalked out of the room.

  I slammed my bedroom door and sat on the bed, seething. I would’ve cried if I hadn’t been so angry. Corporate asset, indeed!

  I grinned suddenly. I had to hand it to him. Not only did he end up with all the pizza and beer, plus the biggest T.V. in the condo, but he’d taken my mind off my problems. My gut wasn’t twisted with fear. Maybe I oughtta thank him.

  Ha!

  I charged out the door smack into his chest and started talking at the same time he did. I rubbed my nose where it had whacked into his sternum. “You are really something else—”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re so damn stubborn—”

  He laughed and so did I.

  “Come on, let’s eat dinner before everything gets cold. And I don’t want to talk any more about you leaving, you hear?”

  “I can’t stay here forever.”

  “Let’s debate that later. But Jonas Draper thinks returning to your old place while this guy is still at large would be a big mistake. So just stay put for awhile. Please?”

  “We-ell...for now. So what’s with her?” I nodded at Natalie’s door.

  “Oh, she wore another slutty shirt, and I wanted her to change it. We had words.”

  “Sometimes you just gotta put your foot down. We shouldn’t bend on the clothing issue. She’ll be dating soon. I don’t want her to look like Lust on Wheels.”

  He slipped his arm around me. “Thank you for saying ‘we.’”

  “I did?” My face heated. “You know what I mean.”

  “I hope I do.” I didn’t know what to say, so I just went back to the living room and he followed. A burst of crowd noise from the T.V. accompanied a completed pass.

  “It actually feels nice to worry about Natalie rather than thieves, vandals and stalkers.”

  “Feels nice? For whom? If she were my kid, I’d be terrified.”

  “Ha. The boys around here are the people who should be scared.”

  ~*~

  On Monday morning, I watched as Fletcher took out a jar of honey from his cupboard and put it on the kitchen table. “Want some honey on your toast, sweetheart?” His eyes teased.

  I grinned, and tried not to turn into a puddle of warm honey myself. He knew it, that devil. I winked at him. “Why, thank you, Fletch, I do believe I’ll have some honey this morning.”

  I took the jar, opened it, and stuck in a spoon, then lifted it out. The thick syrup flowed off the spoon like molten gold, reminding me of the Italian sunshine that had streamed through the curtains of the room while we’d made love.

  The honey thinned, and I twirled the spoon to cut off the thin yellow thread. Meeting his laughing gaze, I lifted the spoon to my mouth.

  I licked it. Yum.

  His eyes widened.

  I took my time, meticulously tonguing every bit of the luscious syrup off the bowl of the spoon.

  I licked the back of the spoon, then swirled my tongue around it.

  He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He slid one finger into the collar of his dress shirt, loosening it a fraction.

  I slid my tongue along the long stem of the spoon, then put the entire round end of the spoon into my mouth.

  “Excuse me.” He dashed out of the room.

  Natalie, busy at the toaster, turned. “What’s his problem?” She spread peanut butter on her toast and brought it to the table.

  “Beats me. How does that new uniform feel?”

  She flexed her shoulders. “A little itchy, but it’ll be okay after it’s washed.”

  “You ready to go yet?” He re-entered the room, looking considerably calmer.

  I wondered what he’d been doing in those last, short seconds. I beamed at him. “But I haven’t finished breakfast yet.”

  “Oh, I think you’ve had enough to eat. Come on.” He herded us out.

  It was Natalie’s first day back to school, so we dropped her off early so she could find her way to her new classes. Then we went to the atelier to reopen the workshop. I hoped to get back into a routine. There was plenty of work to do, and I headed right into it despite Maggie’s unexplained absence.

  ~*~

  “How do you do that?” Fletch demanded as I draped a length of lemon-colored linen over a mannequin that afternoon.

  I snipped here and there, then tugged on a couple of threads. I pinned it to another, similar strip of fabric, and it became a sleeveless jacket. I smiled smugly. “Beats me. How do you raid corporations?”

  Before he could protest, I climbed onto a nearby table and clapped my hands for attention. “People, gather ’round!”

  The cadre of designers crowded in, visibly curious.

  “Here’s the concept for the show.” I gestured at the dummy. “Check this out. Instead of front and back sections of the jacket sewn at the shoulder, we have an unconstructed tabard joined with seams at the sides and back. The tucks here create a flowing drape over the breast.”

  “Wow,” Santo said. “There’s no horizontal lines at all.”

  I nodded. “Not one. The vertical seams make the wearer seem slimmer. And what does every woman want?”

  Everyone shouted at once. “To look thin!”

  “Right!” I bounced up and down in new, high-topped sneakers. These were bright pink. “The real beauty of this design for us is its simplicity. We have only seven weeks, people, so let’s go! You’ll find patterns for these jackets in your computers under the file name ‘autumn 1.’“

  Woo-hoos of approval, then a flattering patter of applause broke out before the designers headed back to their mannequins and sewing machines.

  Fletch followed me up the metal stairs to the loft as I continued to talk about the new design, which I loved. “We’ll put them over light blouses, drawstring pants with wide legs, loose, slim shifts. They’ll be incredibly comfortable--dressy, too, in the silks we bought in Italy. Oh, Fletch, I’m so excited!” I stopped at the top of the stairs and flung my arms around him.

  He hugged back, picking me up and swinging me around the loft. “I can see that.”

  “I feel this way every time I get the concept for a line. I love it when all the ideas c
ome together. It’s a special moment.”

  He kissed me. “Congratulations, honey. I have to admit that I’m relieved. These last weeks have been pretty bad. I didn’t know how long it would take for you to focus on work.”

  “I love my work. It’s a part of me. No matter what else is happening, a little chunk of my mind is always busy designing—”

  Sam appeared at the top of the stairs, and one look at his face shut me down. “What’s wrong?”

  Fletcher’s chauffeur stood at the top of the stairs, twisting his cap in his hands. His normally immaculate black uniform looked creased and crumpled. The young man’s sandy hair stuck out and his blue eyes held more than a hint of worry.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this,” Sam said. “Natalie wasn’t at her school when I went to pick her up. I don’t know where she is.”

  Chapter 18

  My world spun, and black flecks crowded my vision as I swayed. Cramps seized me, and I bent over at the waist, praying I wouldn’t retch as bile flooded my throat. Fletch grabbed me and plopped me in the leather armchair. I huddled into its comforting clasp as he perched on one arm of the chair, keeping a warm hand on my shoulder.

  I let myself slump. “Are you sure you were at the right exit? Nat changed classrooms this year, and might have left another way.”

  “I’m sure. I circled the school three times.” Sam gulped. “I even got out to look for her. I’m sorry, but she’s gone.”

  I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “Oh, my God, Nat! How could this have happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Fletcher said. “Cara, do you have the phone number of the school? They shouldn’t have let her leave with anyone but us.”

  Fear gripped me, but I tried to control my sobs. “You’re right, of course. It’s…the number’s programmed into my cellphone. Fletch, could you call for me?” Despite my panic, I struggled out of the chair and went to the drafting table to find my phone. Shiny and red, it was blessedly easy to see.

  I glanced at Sam as Fletcher punched buttons. I hadn’t understood the strength of the link between Sam and Natalie, but it made sense. He’d picked up my daughter from school or camp for weeks, ferried her to activities, shared snacks with her… I knew that Sam was trustworthy, had checked him out thoroughly, but hadn’t known they’d become buddies. Now he looked as though his own child had been kidnapped.