In The Cards

by Cynthia Selwyn

  Alex sighed against his chest and he put his arm around her shoulders; she fit just right. “Hot” wasn’t the right word for what they’d shared, he decided. “Meaningful” fit better. Hot and meaningful. Yes. That was it.

  Alex was important to him. She kept him sane and real. He could have been a self-centered jerk, but she’d taught him early on that there was more to him than just a face and a body. He was never just a piece of meat—not to her.

  And he knew lots of things about Alex. Like she loved Reese’s peanut butter cups, but hated straight peanut butter. She never refused a foot rub. And she could use chopsticks with her left hand, even though she was right-handed.

  And now, he had the opportunity to learn what she liked in bed.

  He’d already learned where she liked to stroke herself. And that—yes—she did have sensitive, pale pink nipples. And that she seemed to know exactly how to turn him on. He sighed and slid his thumb over her shoulder. Realizing he knew her well in mind and soul, learning even more about her…that was exciting. He smiled to himself and kissed the top of her head as he had a million times before. Only this time, it was special. This time, she was in his arms and naked. She was his and his alone.

  All he had to do was convince her of that, and they’d be all set.

  Chapter Nine

  Alex sat at dinner in the hotel restaurant with her editor and the other Heart Throb writers. Zach had elected to stay in the room and take a nap instead of attending dinner with them, which she was thankful for.

  For one thing, she needed time to recuperate from the intensity of the past few hours they’d spent together. For another, she needed to be with people who weren’t gah-gah; experience had proven that a table full of women and Zach was a brain-deadening combination.

  And finally, she needed a drink. A large one. Or three.

  I slept with Zach kept circling around in her head. One minute, she’d be talking to someone about their sales, and then, I slept with Zach! would pop up, and she’d lose her train of thought. Or she’d be thinking, This is a great salad dressing, and I slept with Zach was there, making everything else seem inconsequential.

  She stared down at the salad and realized that probably had something to do with the shape of the cherry tomatoes and baby carrots. Although Zach really had nothing in common with them. Tim, on the other hand, had a lot in common with cherry tomatoes and a baby carrot…

  Now, Alexandrea, be nice.

  Nice. Why be nice? Tim was a jerk. He’d fucked another woman—in their bed!

  She wished she could call him and tell him— Guess what? I had sex with Zach, you two-timing jerk, and he’s waaay bigger than you!

  But they hadn’t really had sex, she realized. They’d played, but they hadn’t consummated their games. Which was what this weekend was. A game. She didn’t know why they’d chosen to bring their relationship to a sexual level—besides Tim’s betrayal, of course—but they had. And now she didn’t know how their relationship was going to proceed.

  Truth be told, she didn’t want the game to stop. She wanted to use the weekend to bring it to its natural conclusion.

  But the question was: would it also bring their relationship to its conclusion? Could she stand being just another woman Zach slept with? Did he see her as just another notch on his belt? Was she about to lose her oldest friend, as well as the man she’d planned to marry, because of sex?

  Good going, Alex. You lost your fiancé and now you could lose your best friend, all in one weekend. Nice job.

  “How’s the proposal coming?” Carla asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “It’s coming,” Alex answered and speared one of the tomatoes with her fork. I just hope it doesn’t cum…and go.

  “Oh. My. God. Look what just sat down at the bar,” the writer to the left of Alex—a strongly opinionated author of werewolf novels—barked.

  Everyone at the table turned to look. Alex didn’t bother. She didn’t need to. Only Zach could create that response. He’s not a what, he’s a who, she thought with disgust. The sexiest, hottest who she’d almost ever had sex with. But she didn’t say it aloud. It wouldn’t matter. No one would listen, because they were too busy ooohing and aaahing at “it.”

  She pushed an onion over to the side of her salad bowl and forked up an olive.

  “Who do you suppose he is?” squeaked the teeny tiny woman who wrote best-selling intrigues with big heroes and bigger heroines. “He looks dangerous.”

  “He doesn’t look dangerous. He looks delicious,” responded the author of a successful series of romances revolving around a restaurant.

  Alex rolled her eyes and tipped her head back. Was he dangerous or delicious? Neither. And both. She knew he was delicious. And today, she’d learned he was dangerous. To her heart. Oh, Zach. I hope we’re not making a big mistake. She lifted her gaze to watch him, and a shiver ran through her.

  He spoke to the bartender, who handed him a menu.

  “Bet you he orders a steak. A man like that eats meat,” said the grandmotherly lady to Alex’s right.

  “Really?” Alex put down her fork and picked up her frozen margarita, taking a big sip. Gah. Salt. And a brain-freeze. Crap. She put it down. “What do you write?”

  “I write man-on-man love stories.” The author never took her eyes off Zach. “I wonder if he’s gay?”

  Oh, dear God. Alex sucked back a snort of laughter. Hardly.

  “Alex. Do you think you could write your erotica around a hero like that?” Carla asked.

  “Sure. Why not?” She leaned on her elbows, gazing at Zach, her friend and the object of everyone’s speculation. I already am.

  “I wonder how he kisses.”

  It’s like Heaven on earth.

  “Do you think he’s got a big...?”

  Hung like a bull. Olé!

  “I wonder if he fucks as good as he looks?”

  Me, too. Alex sighed. “I bet he orders dessert first.”

  “Ooh. That’s very indicative of how he makes love,” said Restaurant Writer. “I think he’ll order…oysters.”

  “No way,” said Man-on-Man Granny. “Stuffed zucchini.”

  “The five-alarm chili,” said Dangerous.

  “Cheeseburger and fries,” Carla said. “Meat and potatoes. He’s more of a two-course meal kind of a man. With lots of ketchup.”

  “The marble cheesecake,” Alex said.

  “Oh! Cheesecake. Very good. I like that,” Man-on-Man said. “Cheesecake.” She giggled.

  Alex rolled her eyes and shifted away from the woman. She didn’t mean cheesecake like that. It was just…he liked cheesecake. And chocolate. Together, it was the perfect Zach food, and when she’d noticed it on the menu, she’d planned to order a piece to take back to the room for him.

  At the bar, Zach handed the menu back to the bartender; in moments, he had a tall-necked bottle of beer in front of him. He tipped his head back to take a long pull. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Funny how something like that could look so sexy on a man. It drew your attention to the curve of his throat. You could just imagine what it would be like to drag the tip of your tongue over the silk and stubble of his skin, maybe stopping to bite and suck until he had a hickey. But why stop there? Why not just trail your tongue down into his shirt, over his entire body? You could lick a man like Zach all over, and never get tired of his salty-sweet taste and the hot feel of his skin and taut muscles.

  As if he could feel her eyes on him, he turned to look at her. She shivered, unable to stop the smile that rose to her lips, and he smiled back, raised his bottle in salute, then winked.

  “Oh my God,” Carla said, “he winked at you. You should go over and introduce yourself to him.”

  Damn. Forget that. She should go over and jump him, knocking him right off his barstool and into a private, dark corner, where she could suck on his neck…and the rest of his body.

  Amazingly, she realized, she could. Later, tonight. She took a deep breath to calm the racing of her heart,
and a sip of her margarita to set her thoughts spinning on a different axis. Mmmmm. “Why don’t women have Adam’s apples, do you think?”

  No one answered. Apparently, they were overcome, just watching him. Maybe they were jealous because he’d winked at her.

  Poor Zach, Alex thought. How could he stand it? True, the guy was beyond gorgeous, but there was so much more to him than that. He was smart, fun, funny, and caring. He taught special-needs kids how to ride, rescued horses, and taught both kids and horses how to live with confidence in the world.

  Yet, women—and some men—always treated him like a thing instead of a person just because of his appearance.

  At least I know I’ve never treated Zach like a piece of man-meat, instead of a human being. She winked back at him and lifted her glass in salute. “A toast,” she announced to the table, “to the handsome hunk at the bar.”

  “Hear, hear!” The women chorused and raised their glasses Zach’s way.

  ***

  Zach paused outside the candle shop. Alex was still with her colleagues in the hotel restaurant when he’d left, and she’d texted him to let him know there was an awards thing going on she needed to attend. “Keep the bed warm for me,” she’d written.

  Little did she know he intended to make it more than warm; it was going to be hot. Really hot. Or it would be, once he gathered all the things he thought would spice up their night even more.

  The sex box was fun, but it wasn’t complete.

  He waited for a gaggle of giggling women to leave the cluttered candle shop, bags in hand, before walking in. Assorted scents assaulted his nose—florals strong enough to remind him of a funeral bouquet, vanillas so sweet his throat closed, fruits so real he expected to see a produce section.

  He just wanted something sexy, something that would light up the room and make an impression. What would Alex like? He closed his eyes and inhaled the various smells. Cinnamon, he realized. She’d like cinnamon…with apples. He smiled to himself and reached for a hand basket.

  After he’d picked and purchased the candles, he made his way through the mall to a shop called simply, “Pop!” He wondered if Alex would want to join him. Maybe someday. When he’d convinced her she was his and his alone and knew that this wasn’t just a weekend fling thing.

  A bald, tattooed, and multiply pierced man sat on a stool by the door. He was, Zach realized as a group of rowdy teenage boys moved by with reddened faces and loud hoots, a bouncer. He reached for the handle to let himself in. The bouncer stopped him. “The bag—it needs to go in the bin.” He pointed to a partitioned bookcase beside him.

  Zach stowed it in a cubical, and the man opened the door. “Welcome to Pop! The area’s only adult book and toy store. Enjoy yourself, man.”

  “Thanks.” He stepped inside the store. Toys? There were more toys here than he’d ever seen before. Even so, there was only one special thing he wanted, something he’d always wanted to try—with the right woman. He wandered the aisles, eyeing dildos as big as pepperoni sticks and as curved as bananas, some with heads at both ends, and tried not to smirk at the “realistic” latex pussies “with real human pubic hair!”

  There was an aisle of creams, gels and oils, self-heating and edible, and another displaying various bondage devices, whips, crops, and flagellators. There was even a human saddle and bridle set.

  But aside from some of the oils and creams, none of those things interested him. What he wanted was very specific, and it wasn’t long before he found a rack of them of various shapes, sizes, and textures. He smiled as he imagined what he’d do when he found just the right one, and suddenly, he couldn’t wait for Alex to get back to their room. He pulled out his phone.

  “Please hurry,” he texted. “Rhett’s got two bits burning a hole in his pocket, and he’s dying to give them to you.” Zach hit the “send” button and reached for the toy he knew they’d both enjoy.

  ***

  “Well, look who showed up,” Zach said when Alex strolled into the room a few hours later.

  She smiled and plopped down on the end of the opposite bed. “Puh-lease. Look at you, all sprawled there with a beer and the remote. You look like you’ve had quite a time for yourself. Scruffy faced, messy hair, sheet marks on your cheek…”

  Zach grinned. “It’s been great. Just what I needed. I watched mindless television, napped, ate—you saw me do that—shopped at the mall across the street, showered, and napped again. Life is good.”

  “I’m glad you’re having a good time.” She sighed and fell back on the bed in a big X, arms and legs spread, to stare up at the ceiling. “I hate conferences,” she said. “I won an award for best historical of the year.”

  “Oh. That sucks. I hate it when I win awards,” Zach snarked and switched off the television.

  She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “You have no idea. These women. I went to the networking session after dinner. You know, to network.”

  He nodded. “Really? You networked at a networking session? Who knew?”

  “Yes, but instead of networking, all they could do was talk about you.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I wanted to tell them you were here with me, but I figured, why ruin the mystery? Right now, they think you’re a prime specimen of man flesh, and I didn’t want to push you off your pedestal by letting them know you’re a real guy. You know, who burps and everything.”

  “That was thoughtful of you.” He dropped the remote on the nightstand. Man flesh, my ass. It was insulting. He knew that Alex didn’t mean anything by it, but he wished… “You have my permission to shove me off my man-flesh pedestal anytime, Al.”

  “Awww…and ruin all their fun? The air was pink with estrogen. Why would I want to destroy their fantasies of you by telling them you’re only human?”

  Because I am. Zach sighed. But enough of that. He wasn’t interested in what the romance writers at the convention thought about him. There was only one woman he wanted—no, more than that. A woman he needed. Alex.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up to reach for his hat on the desk. Just where he’d placed it. Time to get into character. He pushed the hat onto his head and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “Time to get to work. I’ve just pulled a card, Miz Scarlett. You interested in hearing what it says, or shall I call the madam for a new gal?”

  She sat up, her eyes wide and sparkling. “I’ll do whatever you want, Mr. Rhett.”

  “Then you’d best get your sweet little behind into that bathroom and take off all your clothes.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “In the bathroom? Why?”

  “You’d best do what I say, Scarlett, or you’re going to lose some cash. You don’t want me to call the madam. I could ask for a gal who doesn’t ask questions.”

  She jumped off the bed. “Yes, sir.” She hurried into the bathroom and shut the door. Good. Zach got up and began pulling the things he’d bought out of the bags he’d hidden on the closet shelf.

  In the bathroom, Alex pulled the plush hotel robe off the hook on the back of the door and wrapped it around herself. It was so long, it dragged on the floor. But, she felt self-conscious about walking around naked in front of Zach. Even though she’d been naked with him earlier—intimately so—the initial flush of passion was over.

  Maybe she just needed to get back into character. She closed her eyes. Thought about the two children waiting for her at the shack. Needing food. And clothes. And schooling. And…medicine.

  But this wasn’t the way to do it, she realized. She couldn’t do this forever. So many sisters of sin died of disease, or abuse. She needed to find a better way to take care of the children. A man. A husband. Maybe…maybe a man like Mr. Rhett. He was handsome enough. And clean. And, he had all his teeth.

  She wondered if he liked children.

  She decided she’d ask him to take her with him. She’d be his mistress. And all she asked in exchange was food for the children, a roof over their heads, clo
thes on their backs—and that no one ever discover she was nothing more than his whore.

  Alex opened her eyes and threw back her shoulders, dropping the robe in a puddle around her feet. She turned to the counter, picked up her body lotion, and poured a generous amount of it into her palm. She stroked it all over her skin, even under her breasts and amidst the curling hair at the juncture of her thighs, watching herself in the mirror. Okay. So Tim had called her fat. Zach said she was perfect. Maybe she was in-between. Not as thin as she might have wished, but…well, Zach wasn’t turning her away for being too fleshy.

  And if a man like Zach thought she looked good, then…

  A sense of power filled her. She turned him on. He wanted her.

  So she reapplied her makeup, taking care to paint her lips with deep red lip gloss until they glittered with the promise of a kiss. Finally, she brushed her hair until it crackled and shone, bouncing around her shoulders.

  Take that, Mr. Rhett. You’ll be mine. And I’ll be yours. She opened the door and strode out into the bedroom with her breasts bouncing and her ass wiggling, ready to take on the cowboy waiting for her.

  But…she stopped to stare at the transformation of their hotel room.

  The room glowed with candlelight. Jarred candles lined the wide windowsill, and short tapers flickered in glass holders on the desk. More candles in jars sat on the nightstand. And the scent of cinnamon filled the air.

  Zach—Rhett—lay on the bed, wearing nothing but his hat tipped over his eyes. His hands were clasped behind his head, his legs were crossed comfortably at the ankles, and he could have been snoozing. Except—the giant erection rising up over his stomach gave him away. Alex drew closer; she could see his eyes glittering at her from beneath the brim of his hat.

  “Mr. Rhett?” she whispered. “I like the candles.”