Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  Between bites of buttermilk pancakes, smoked bacon and juice, they studied the map she’d printed out and checked the weather forecast on her laptop. After brushing her teeth again and running a brush through her hair, she paused to look in the mirror. A blend of excitement and anxiety marred her face. Don’t go there, girl. Everything will be fine.

  Standing next to Pearl in the driveway when she exited the house, she couldn’t decide who presented a sadder image, Duna, with his slumped shoulders and crinkled brow or Pearl, with her sagging fender and creased hood.

  Standing beside the driver’s door, Duna looked her over with the sight of an eagle.

  “What? Have I suddenly grown warts?

  A tear pooled in the corner of one eye. “You’re all grown up and the most beautiful ghel this side of the moon.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and gazed up. “Now you’re going to ruin my makeup.”

  “Seven hours to Chicago, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mind the road and don’t forget to lock Pearl once you get to the rental lot. If you need anything, call me and—”

  She interrupted his words with a hug and then looked into his eyes. “I’m not leaving the country, ya know.”

  “No, but it is the first time we’ll be parted for more than a day.”

  “Rann has gone to extreme lengths for my safety. He has me on speed dial and I’m sure he’ll be checking on me every hour.”

  He clicked his tongue. “I wish you could have mustered up the courage to fly.”

  “Me too.” She palmed his cheek. “It’s on my list of ten things to conquer before I die. Number eleven,” she added with a smile.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Sorry. Hey, I’m sure the car he rented for me surpassed the Institute for Highway Safety standards times ten.”

  Duna nodded.

  She tipped her head to the side. “See you Sunday night?”

  “I’ll be here…right here,” he added for emphasis. “Pacing like a caged badger until you and Pearl pull into the driveway.”

  ~*~

  As expected, Rann called her every hour to check on her progress and to make sure she wasn’t lost or had met with any unexpected problems. Somewhere between Milwaukee and Chicago she lost another piece of her heart to him. How could one man be so caring?

  With expert directions, he guided her toward the off ramp she needed to take to reach his suburb, and stayed on the phone with her through every left and right turn through his neighborhood until she pulled into his driveway. Of course, he was waiting for her near the garage. Dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt that defined every sculpted muscle in his chest and cheesy flip-flops that he must have pulled off a shelf from Walmart, he looked adorable. And extremely sexy.

  He walked to the car, opened her door and drew her into a hug, not a sexual embrace but an I’m-so-relieved-you-made-it hug. He plucked her bag from the back seat of the rental—a black Denali with more features than a hyped-up jukebox—and steered her toward the front entry.

  Season didn’t know what she expected when Rann told her he lived in a condo in a suburb of Chicago called La Grange. Based on what she knew about his family’s wealth and the discussions they’d had about his want-for-nothing childhood, she’d formed an image in her mind of his living arrangements— towering skyline, twenty-four hour door service, private balcony with perhaps a rooftop lap pool.

  Imagine her surprise when he led her through the door of street-side condo complete with dormers, double garage and stained-glass entry door. Not that it didn’t scream ‘I’m rich’ but it was nothing like the imaginary vision in her mind.

  Inside, she glanced around. The two-bedroom abode boasted vaulted ceilings, paneled doors, shiny hardwood floors, gas fireplace and a complete eat-in kitchen with breakfast nook on the main floor. Her eyes wandered to the white-columned stairway and what looked to be a loft on the second floor.

  Rann set her bag down and walked to the French doors leading to an outdoor yard and patio area. When he opened the glass door on the right, Rook stormed in—she could think of no other word for it—greeting her with wagging tail and pitiful whines.

  “He’s happy to see you.”

  Dropping into a squat, she wrapped her arms around his big, bulky body and hugged him. “Good to see you too, boy.”

  When she stood again, she found Rann staring at her. She couldn’t read his expression. Maybe because he meant to keep it passive but those sapphire eyes held a cauldron of emotion. “I’m happy to see you too.”

  Heat suffused her cheeks. On the long drive, she’d thought of every possible thing that might occur between them, every outcome. Would they play the roles of friends taking the time to get to know one another or would he expect more? Was he only looking for wild, passionate sex where in the end she’d return to Minnesota and he could add another notch to his belt? He’d said he wanted her, and if she wanted him, she should come to Chicago. So here she stood with her heart in her throat and a burning hunger for the man that terrified her.

  His voice meandered across the room, so soft and caring it melted her bones. “Hey, you all right?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Want a short tour?”

  “I’m dying to see if that’s a loft upstairs.”

  He crossed the space separating them, picked up her bag and walked toward the stairway. “Number one rule,” he said with a smile. “No one is allowed to die here. Come on.”

  She followed him up, pleased her intuition was right. A massive bedroom and bath took up the entire floor, with the exception of a cordoned off area for an exercise room.

  A king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room with two night tables and matching lamps on each side. Missing were the Greek marble statues tucked into every corner she imagined and priceless oil paintings gracing the taupe walls. Instead, a gallery of framed prints covered one wall, stunning pictures of famous buildings from around the world—Saint Peter's Basilica, the Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum, the Parthenon, and the Florence Cathedral.

  When she finished walking the length of the wall, she pivoted. “These are amazing, and I’m surprised.”

  Slumped against the opposite wall with her overnight bag at his feet, and all masculine virility, her heart tripped. “In a good way, I hope.”

  “Yes, they’re lovely, but I had no idea you were into photography.”

  “The only photography bend I have is my fixation on you.” The air in the room sizzled with steamed heat. With their eyes locked, he added, “Actually, I’m an architect.”

  “You are?”

  “Yep, graduated from Illinois Institute of Technology with a BA in architecture.”

  “But-but you were surveying….”

  “When I finished school, I went to work for my mother’s company, didn’t pursue a job in my field.”

  Something flitted through his eyes, regret she guessed and another emotion she didn’t recognize.

  “I bet you’d like a hot shower after that long ride or maybe you want to rest for a while.” He nodded toward the bed. “Thought we’d have a casual night at a local hangout with some of my friends, but only if you’re okay with that.”

  “Sounds fun. I’ll take you up on the shower but pass on the nap.”

  “Cool. You’ll find everything you need in the bathroom. Take your time and whenever you’re ready, I’ll see you downstairs.”

  Before he left, he blessed her with another smile that sent the blood rushing through her veins. When he closed the door, she wondered who’d stolen the sun from the room. Rein it in, Season, or soon you’ll be like those other women falling at his feet to get into his bed. She groaned aloud. She had to trust him. She’d driven all the way to Chicago to find out if she could.

  No turning back now.

  Chapter 11

  It is God who brought you.

  Holy shit. She’s really here…in my condo, in my shower. In my bedroom. Rann pumped his fist in the air,
“Yes!”

  When she walked down the stairs in her skinny jeans, hot pink tank top and see-through white blouse, his heart took a giant leap and so did his dick. She had to be the most beautiful girl in the city. Hell, in the whole world.

  “What?” she said with her arms out at her sides and serious face. “Too casual?”

  “No-no, not at all. Did I say or do something to make you think otherwise?”

  “You didn’t say a word but you’re staring at me like I sprouted horns in the last hour.”

  He paused and licked his dry lips. “I’m staring at you because I can’t believe you could one up yourself, from before I mean, but you have. I’m going to have to keep Matt under lock and key around you.”

  “Matt?”

  “My best friend from high school. He’s unattached and on a high-octane quest to rectify that. Anything with tits is fair game.”

  She pursed her lips. “Does that include cows?”

  “Seriously? I wouldn’t doubt it. You ready to meet him and the others?”

  She crossed her eyes and cocked her head. “Ready as ripe tomatoes.”

  With a laugh, he stretched his arm out toward the front door. “We’re hoofing it tonight.”

  Season came to an abrupt halt in front of the old railroad door marking the entry. “You have got to be kidding me…Loose as Lucy?”

  Rann held the door open as she passed through. “What can I say? Chicagoans are a sick bunch of bastards.”

  Rann spied Damien, Kristi, Matt and Heath clustered around a large booth at the back of the pub. He made introductions before he and Season squeezed into one end. They spent the first half-hour catching up on local gossip, the latest trendy restaurant, which politicians found themselves embroiled in scandal this week and how Minnesota differed from Illinois.

  By the time Rann ordered another round, a gimlet for him, a Budweiser for her, he realized he could kick-back and enjoy the evening. Season fit into the group like a well-worn glove, especially with Matt, who couldn’t stop gaping at her. Once or twice he had a strong urge to reach across the table, place his hand under his friend’s chin and close his mouth. Deep down, he knew Matt would never betray him. Their friendship went way back and the bonds ran deep.

  Heath’s voice rang out. “Okay, who’s ready for a round or two of quarters?”

  Damien banged his glass on the table. “Here, here.”

  Matt echoed the words and glanced across to Season. “Have you ever played?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “Quarters on the table,” Kristi said.

  Rann dug in his pocket and put two quarters down, passing one to Season. He grabbed an empty beer glass from a passing waitress and set it down ten inches away from all the players. “Here are the rules, Minnesota girl. Everyone gets a turn. You need to figure out how to flip the quarter from the table into that cup.”

  She dropped her shoulders and groaned. “Is that all?”

  “No, that’s not all,” Heath quipped with a smile. “If you succeed, you get to order any person at the table to drink. If you fail, you drink.”

  “Game-on.” Season put a thumb in the air. “I warn you I’m quite coordinated and, drum roll please, ambidextrous!”

  A chorus of groans erupted in perfect time to his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. For the fourth time tonight. It had to be either his mother or Bernadette, the last two people he wanted to hear from. He wavered between excusing himself for a minute and ignoring it. In the end, he looked around the table and decided he had everything he needed right here, his best friends and Season.

  They played for an hour with Kristi and Matt taking most of the hits on the drink meter. True to her word, Season caught on fast and stunned them with her accurate aim. She missed on four occasions and because company loves misery, she was chosen to drink when she did. Since they’d never had a conversation about drinking, Rann wondered if four glasses of beer was the norm for her or if she’d be stumbling off her feet by the time they walked home.

  He leaned into her. “You ready to call it a night soon?”

  “You kidding me,” Matt piped up. “It’s only eleven o’clock.”

  Rann put a hand in the air. “I know, I know, but we’re hitting the art exhibit tomorrow and maybe Girl & the Goat tomorrow night.”

  Kristi reached across the table. “Nice to meet you Season. Enjoy Chicago.”

  The others echoed similar words before they exited the booth, left the pub and began the walk home.

  It didn’t take him long to figure out four beers were not the norm. Once or twice her feet picked a fight with the sidewalk and she’d burst into laughter. He took her hand after she tripped on a small rock and giggled. “Sorry, I better get my eyes checked.”

  “Nothing wrong with your eyes, sweetheart. They’re beautiful.”

  She stopped walking. “Do you really think so?”

  “Oh, yeah. And your inky black, thick eyelashes? Man, they put Penelope Cruz’ to shame.”

  “Hmm. You’re so nice, so, so nice.”

  “We’re home now.” He guided her up the drive and into the house.

  “I didn’t used to think so but after meeting your friends—they’re real nice too—I decided….”

  “You decided?”

  “They wouldn’t play marbles with you if you weren’t.”

  “Marbles? I think you mean quarters.”

  She flapped a limber hand. “Whatever.”

  In the entry, he placed his hands under legs, picked her up and headed for the stairs.

  “What are you doing, Veshengo? I’m not that drunk.”

  “No dying here, remember?”

  She laid her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. He navigated the steps, acutely aware of her and someone trying to reach him on his cell phone again. After lying her down on the bed, he whispered, “Be right back.”

  In the bathroom, he whipped his phone out and glared at the text message.

  Bernadette has been trying to reach you all night. Where are you? I received the names of the landowners on Pine Bay. What in hell do these Scrimshaw people want? If you don’t have an answer for me by tomorrow, I’ll have Martin take care of it. Pull your head out, Rann, and answer your damn phone. CB

  What kind of a name is Scrimshaw anyway?

  His stomach lurched. Charlotte never made empty threats, and she’d go to any means to get the information she wanted. If he didn’t respond, Martin would be in Pine Bay by sunup. He’d call her tomorrow, tell her he was on it, had everything under control. He didn’t give a damn if he lost his job or his mother, for that matter, but he had to buy time, figure out a way to call off her dogs.

  Rann eased onto the bed beside Season and rubbed her forehead. “Want some water?”

  “No.”

  “You called me Veshengo, you know?”

  “My man of the forest.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  She stared into his eyes. “Not for food.”

  He closed his. “Season, I don’t think we should—”

  “You don’t want me?”

  After a long breath, he opened his eyes. “Oh, God, if you only knew.”

  “Then what?”

  “Not like this, not after you’ve had too much to drink.” He chuckled. “Christ, when did I turn into a pope?”

  “I’m not drunk, just a little tipsy and….”

  “And what?”

  “Feeling all daring and confessional.”

  “How about trustworthy?”

  A thousand crickets descended on the room.

  “Think about it and answer truthfully. I think I know the answer, but I want you to say it.”

  “What do you think the answer is?”

  “The answer is yes, you trust me, a lot more than you did two weeks ago.”

  She pulled herself up to an elbow. “How do you know?”

  “Because tonight, you didn’t look at me like you used to, like I was a player and only wa
nted you for sex or…your land.”

  “Which one is it?”

  He pushed her down to the bed with a gentle hand, his mouth hovering over hers. “Neither. I want you, only you, from the moment I saw you on your ass in a tangle of broken branches and dead leaves.”

  She smiled. “Oh.”

  “You said you were feeling all confessional. Not sure we’re using that word right but what do you want to confess?”

  “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

  “If you intend to share my bed tonight, yes.”

  She looked away from him.

  “Season?”

  “I liked it better when you called me sweetheart.”

  “Stop changing the subject. Tell me the truth and I’ll call you sweetheart all night, and hot, beautiful, sexy as hell. Just tell me the truth.”

  She turned her head toward him again. “I’m not drunk.”

  He blew an exasperated breath. “You already told me that.”

  “I-I.” Now it was her turn to close her eyes. “I want you, Rann Brogan, and I trust you.”

  “Look at me.”

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “I need to see your eyes when you say it. That’s the easiest part for me to read when it comes to you. I swear, if you can’t say those words, I’m hauling my ass downstairs to sleep on the couch.”

  “All right already!” She panted like a fish out of water. “I want you. I want you to stay with me tonight.” Her bottom lip came out. “Happy now?”

  “No, ecstatic.”

  He shoved off from the bed, ditched his clothes and climbed back in beside her. With shaky fingers, she began unbuttoning her blouse. He couldn’t decide if she trembled from nerves or fear, but his heart splintered. “Here, let me do it.”

  He tossed her clothing over the bed to join his on the floor, and then he drew her into his arms. Flesh against flesh, he closed his eyes again and breathed in her essence.

  Her arm moved upward to his head. With a hand to the back of his skull, she brought his face down to hers. “Kiss me again, like you did that day on the beach.”

  “Anything you ask, sweet girl, anything.”