Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  “Yes. I haven’t found a replacement that I like. Haven’t had time to look.”

  “Where do you work when you’re here?”

  “I use Damon’s office, or the sofa. I’m not here all that often. More Champagne?” He met my eyes and smiled.

  God. That heartthrob smile again, the one that never failed to turn me on. I’d been so busy lately that dealing with my feelings about Fletcher hadn’t been difficult. But now…Were my toes actually curling?

  He refilled my glass, and after he put the bottle back onto the table, he leaned into the sofa while scooting closer. Nestled into the curve of his arm, happily encompassed by his warmth, I recalled how my breasts would swell when he’d cupped them in his big hands. Now, my nipples hardened and tingled at the memories.

  Should I or shouldn’t I?

  Why not? I loved making love with him. He’d been a generous lover, enjoying my pleasure as much as his own. He’d given completely, never holding anything back. Neither had I. But, on the other hand, Natalie—

  “Sweet Lord Almighty! What happened?” He stood in the sudden darkness.

  “Must be a blackout. See, there’s no lights, even outside.” I heard a thump.

  He swore. He must have walked into the coffee table. Moments later, I heard his voice from near the window. “You’re right, not a light anywhere for blocks. Kinda spooky.”

  Damn, I thought. “Please, Fletch. I’ve just managed to convince myself that everything bad in my life is over.” I’d kept in touch with my investigator, but Shila Chong hadn’t come up with anything at all. If there had been a stalker, he’d disappeared.

  I heard his footsteps approach before his hands massaged my shoulders over the back of the couch. “Oh, it is, honey. This blackout’s no big deal. We’ll just wait it out. Hell, I have everything I want right here. Food, drink and you.”

  “What do you mean, ‘we’ll just wait it out’?”

  “If this is a complete power outage, we’re stuck in this building, probably alone. This place is the mecca of high-tech. Most of the doors require electronic card-keys. If the power’s out, we can’t get into the stairwells and the elevators sure won’t work. We’re stuck up here in the penthouse.”

  Anxiety crept along my nerves. “What are we going to do?” My voice had gone high pitched with panic. I hadn’t taken any tranqs for weeks—no need to. But now… I scrabbled in my satchel.

  “Nothing to do, honey. Just gotta wait ‘til they get the lights back on.”

  “That’s nuts. What happens during a fire?”

  “The sprinklers are heat-activated. A sensor melts, and the water comes down.”

  “You don’t understand. I have a child. I have to know what’s going on with Natalie.” Why didn’t he get it? Any relationship had no future unless Fletch got the message about her.

  “Honey, she’s in Manhattan with her friend Jennifer, isn’t she? She’s three states away. They probably don’t have a problem there.” I heard rustling as he sidled around the sofa and sat next to me.

  Forget the tranqs. Where was the damn phone? I continued to search for my cellie, trying to find it by touch alone. “I can’t see anything. Where are those matches?”

  “Here.” He lit one.

  “Ooh, I’m glad I didn’t get around to cleaning out this bag. Lookit this.” I pulled out a couple of votive candles.

  “What are they? These matches don’t give much light.”

  “Candles.”

  “Cara Fletcher, you’re some kinda crazy genius, you know that?”

  I grinned. “Where should we put them?”

  “I have coasters somewhere, or we can use ashtrays. Give me a candle.” He put a lit match to each wick, then set one votive at each end of the coffee table. “Perfect.”

  The candles illuminated the couch area with a mellow glow. The darkened windows reflected a romantic scene: Champagne, crystal, and appetizers, lit by the votives’ glimmer. The shifting light bounced off several of Fletcher’s box collection, scattered around the room. The dark wooden ones receded into obscurity, while a glittering sphere set on a shelf leapt into prominence.

  I ignored the seductive setting while I found my cellie, and searched through its programmed addresses for the phone number of Natalie’s friend. I punched it furiously, plagued by some unnamed fear that gnawed at my insides. Too many bizarre events had taken place in the past six months for me to accept this new incident as innocent. At the very least, I was vulnerable and didn’t like it.

  However, I had no trouble getting through to Merrilee Givens, who assured me that Natalie and Jennifer, Merrilee’s daughter, were occupied with homework. There was no blackout in New York City, and everything was fine.

  “Do you want to talk to her?” Merrilee asked.

  “I don’t want to interrupt homework, but yeah, I would.”

  “I’ll get her settled back down again. She’s a good kid, no trouble at all. She can stay over any time.”

  I could hear Merrilee’s footsteps thump as she carried the phone to Natalie.

  “Oh, hi, Ma.”

  Ma? When had she started calling me Ma? But so what. “Hey, honey.”

  “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

  “A blackout. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Let me talk to Fletch.”

  “Huh?” I turned to him. “She says she wants to talk to you.”

  He smiled at me. Overwhelmed by work, I’d apparently missed something in the development of the relationship between Fletcher and Natalie.

  He took the phone. “Hey, half-baked.”

  A pause, and then he said, “She’s okay. A tad frazzled around the edges.”

  She’d asked about me. I was pleased. He smiled and eyed me. “No problem. Bye.” He clicked off the phone and put it down on the couch. He raised his brows and said, “Still a child of few words.”

  “Yeah, she is. Why’d she want to talk to you?”

  He shrugged. “According to Nat, I have my uses.”

  “It’s a relief to know that she’s fitted you into her life. One problem solved.”

  He slipped his arm around me. “I didn’t realize you’d worried about the two of us so much.” He nuzzled my hair.

  “I had.”

  “Does this mean we can sleep together again?” He tickled the skin at my waist.

  I giggled, but said, “Nope. The end of the story still remains to be seen. Hey, I wonder how widespread this blackout is.”

  “Let’s find out.” Taking the phone, Fletch pushed 9-1-1. He frowned. “Busy.” He tried again. “Still busy.”

  “Everyone’s probably trying the same thing. See if you can get hold of Damon or Veronica.”

  “My mother’s supposed to be at the house. I don’t know if her phone lines will be working. I’ll try Damon.” Fletcher pressed buttons.

  “Hello, it’s me,” he said into the phone. “Where are you?”

  “I need to get you a better cellphone,” Fletcher told me, then said, his voice pitched loud, “I thought you were taking Ella to that bistro on Delaware.”

  “We’re stuck in my office.” Fletch held the phone away from his ear. I could hear Damon laughing before Fletcher said, “Yeah, you got it, Big D. We’re trapped.”

  His gaze slid over to me. “Tough, huh? But we’ll find a way to stay warm.” He winked at me, and I smiled back while he ended the call.

  “Mom’s okay,” he said, clicking the phone off.

  I reached for the phone. “Let me try 9-1-1 again. Oh, hello.”

  “What is the nature of your emergency?” The dispatcher sounded harried in comparison to the many times I’d called for help in New York City during the last six months

  “We’re stuck in a building where all the doors and elevators are electronically controlled. We can’t get out.”

  “Are you injured?”

  “No, but we’re trapped.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’
s nothing we can do. Paramedics and relief workers are taking care of those who were injured when the lights went out.”

  “I can understand that.” I fought for calm. “We’re okay, so I guess we’ll wait in line until you can get to us.”

  “The lights will probably come on before anyone will be available to get into your building. So just sit tight.”

  “What happened?”

  “Someone crashed a car into a big transformer. It blacked out a big chunk of downtown.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I clicked off. “I guess that we’re stuck.”

  Fletcher had moved away to stare out of one of the windows that was outside the candles’ glow. I could see the tip of his cigar flare as he inhaled. “So, relax and have some Champagne. Any cheese left?”

  “You never fail to surprise me.” I found myself laughing.

  “What now?”

  “You’re so calm.”

  “There’s nothing to be upset about. Come over here and look at the stars.”

  I slipped over to the window without hitting any furniture, then leaned back against his chest. He stubbed out his cigar in an ashtray that sat on the window sill next to a china box. A Limoges?

  His hands spanned my waist, reminding me of the way our bodies, so different, fitted together so perfectly, as did our lives. Closing my eyes, I relaxed into Fletcher’s warmth.

  He’d filled every gap in my life. I never would have guessed that this tall, striking man, so unlike me in every way, was my missing link, the lost part to my puzzle. Card number fifty-two in the deck of my life. God...was he my better half? Was he my Mr. Right? What a thought!

  And Natalie seemed to have accepted Fletch. Why else would she have demanded to speak with him?

  His breath feathered my hair, sending my jumbled thoughts straight into space as he kissed my temple. Nothing mattered but the moment as he slid his hands up to caress my breasts through the thin silk dress. His lips made their way to my ear, nibbling on the lobe. My knees went weak as he nuzzled my neck.

  “We could do it standing up, right here,” he murmured. “Remember the plane?”

  I shivered in anticipation despite the warmth of his hands. “I’ll never forget the plane. That was wild.”

  He chuckled. My zipper buzzed as he lowered it, and a wash of cool air flowed over my back, naked except for a thin bra strap. The silk dress pooled at my hips, then fell to the carpeted floor. I stepped out of it carefully.

  Fletcher drew in his breath. “Cara, you wicked, wanton woman. What are you wearing?” His hands stroked my thigh through silk lingerie, heating my blood. “What are these called?”

  “Tap pants.”

  “Satin and lace. Over…what?” Fingers slipped underneath the lace edge of the tap pants. “Ooh, not much at all. Garters and...God, Cara. Stockings, and nothing else underneath. And those spike heels are so sexy. Lady, you’re a wet dream come true.” He rubbed the textured lace against my inner thigh, then stroked my uncovered sex.

  My nerves went taut with need. Reaching back with one arm, I managed to pull his hips closer to my backside. His hard-on rose against my furrow, hot through the fabric that separated us. I moaned as he moved back and forth against me.

  I turned, reaching for his belt buckle. “Take off your clothes.”

  Even in the soft candlelight, I could see his eyes widen and his jaw drop. “Yes, ma’am.” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the sofa. He loosened his tie, pulling it out of its Windsor knot. “Let’s try the couch. We have a good history with couches, don’t we?”

  I grinned. “We sure do.” I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open, caressing his chest as he bent to kiss me. His tongue flirted and teased, taking me higher, making me want him more than ever before.

  Sex in Florence had been mega-hot with the excitement of a new lover. Now that I knew how good we were together, I wanted him all the more. The weeks without him in my bed had sharpened my desire, increased my need to an unbearable pitch.

  I bent one knee, raising my leg to wrap it around his hip, but pulled back when I heard a strange, metallic tapping. “What’s that?

  “Sounds like it’s coming from the walls. But that’s not possible.” Lifting one of the candles for light, Fletcher prowled the room.

  “What about that duct?” I pointed to the wall above the plastic mat. The wall, partially covered by shelving, held part of Fletch’s box collection and a number of books. Above the shelves, an elaborate grille covered a large, square duct. A bizarre and frightening combination of taps and rustling came out of the dark gap.

  “The one above the desk area?” He frowned.

  “That’s the only possible place anyone could be, unless you’ve got mice in the walls. Sometimes they get in and chew the wiring.”

  He shook his head. “This building isn’t old enough to have an infestation like that. Let’s check the duct.” He placed the candle he held onto a shelf, then dragged the coffee table over to the wall beneath the duct to climb up for a better look, using the second votive for light. “I can’t see anything through this grille.”

  “Let’s take it off.”

  “How?”

  “There’s a screwdriver on my Swiss Army knife.”

  “I’ll never laugh at all the stuff you carry around again.”

  I handed him the knife. “You never did.”

  “Not so you could hear.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His mouth twitched as he fitted the screwdriver against the first of eight screws holding the screen to the duct’s opening. The office had cooled since the power went off, and I rubbed my bare arms.

  He grunted. “I bet they used an electric screwdriver to tighten these screws. Let’s hope it isn’t soldered. I’ll never get the grille off if it’s soldered.”

  Metal grated as the first screw reluctantly came loose. “Got the first one. Hey, can you get me a drink?”

  “Sure, if you think Champagne is thirst-quenching.” I topped off his glass, then brought it to him.

  “Thank you.” After sipping, he put the flute on a nearby shelf, then continued to work on the second screw.

  I watched, but my edginess made me bounce up and down, twitchy beyond belief, trying to ignore the tendril of fear snaking up my spine. I sensed someone was there, someone who was up to no good. Maybe the same nasty little someone who’d been responsible for all my trouble and pain of the last six months. With all the exits electronically locked, this could be my chance to catch the creep.

  As Fletcher removed the fourth and fifth screws, I visualized my hands squeezing the neck of an assailant whose features remained shadowy. My eyes narrowed. I wanted to shake him the way a cat kills a cornered mouse.

  I didn’t want to put Adam Covarrubia’s famous face on the front of that mysterious head. I didn’t think he was smart enough to plan the series of evil pranks. Besides, wasn’t he just slime rather than evil? And though the clues pointed to Adam, the latest information placed him in Milan, modeling for Prada and Versace.

  “This is the last one. Honey, get ready to catch the grille.” Fletcher pushed the grating against the opening, holding it so he could get the last screw out. “Here it comes.”

  Climbing up on the table beside him, I reached for the bottom of the screen. “Got it.”

  “Okay.” He gripped the grille at the top. “Together, now.”

  We lowered the heavy grid, and then I hopped off the coffee table to guide it to the floor. “Boy, that’s dirty.” I looked around for something to wipe my hands on, and found the napkins that remained from our snack.

  “That’s not a place the janitors can get to.” Fletch peered into the duct. “I can’t see much, but I think there’s a light where there shouldn’t be one. Yes, definitely something there. It could be an emergency light of some kind, but I can’t get in to check. I’m too big.”

  “I bet I can do it.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “
Don’t be silly, of course I can get in there. Move over and I’ll show you.”

  “That’s not my point.” His voice rose. “It isn’t safe.”

  “You would if you could.”

  “That’s—that’s—so what?”

  I’d nailed him. He had no excuse at all. I asked, “So why is it safe for you but not for me?”

  “It wouldn’t be safe for me either, but it’s an appropriate risk for me to assume.”

  I set my hands on my hips and did my best to skewer him with a really mean glare. “Then, if we’re equals, it’s an appropriate risk for me, also, to assume.”

  “Absolutely not. I won’t allow it.”

  “You can’t pull rank on this one, partner. This has nothing to do with work.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “You’re being patronizing and over-protective. It’s not safe because I’m female, right?”

  “It’s not safe because you’re a small woman. If you were bigger, I’d consider it.”

  “You’re still talking as though it’s your decision.”

  He folded his arms across his chest, looking infuriatingly smug. “My building, my decision.”

  “In a pig’s eye. Off.” I climbed onto the coffee table and gave him a firm push, forcing him back. Then I reached for the edge of the duct and hitched myself toward the dark gap. Wedging an elbow in, I hauled up the rest of my body.

  “Get out of that duct.”

  “Shut up and give me a candle. I can’t see a thing in here.”

  He reached for my hips, tugging me halfway out. I flailed wildly with my legs, trying to shake him off. I heard a thud and an “oof!”

  Shit. I’d kicked him in the head with my spiked heel. Shit.

  He crashed to the ground.

  Oh, dammit to hell. I’d knocked him out. Overwhelmed by guilt, I leaned my forehead against the chill metal of the duct. He’d done nothing but try to protect me and I’d frickin’ assaulted him.

  I slid back out of the duct to check on him. Thank God, he’s breathing. I couldn’t find any swelling where I’d whacked his head, so I bet he wasn’t hurt.

  I hesitated, then went for it. Grabbing his jacket from the sofa, I grabbed a candle. Pushing it ahead of me, I climbed back into the duct.