Mrs. February (The Calendar Girl Duet Book 2)

by Karen Cimms

  “Don’t go to any trouble. Water’s fine.”

  “Dylan? Could you get Rain some water? I want to grab my phone and get a photo. You guys look amazing. Those costumes are just . . . something else.”

  Rain and I exchanged glances as Lorraine darted out of the kitchen. Dylan poured Rain a glass of water, while I accepted a second beer. The first one had disappeared, and I had a feeling this one would do the same, especially when I heard Lorraine’s laughter carrying from upstairs. My gut told me it had something to do with the photo she was about to take.

  She returned to the kitchen with her iPhone, smiling and jovial, a far sight different than when we’d first arrived.

  “C’mon kids, go stand in front of the fireplace with your mom so I can take your picture.”

  Izzy carried her little brother into the family room. Rain sat him on her lap on the raised hearth, effectively covering most of her costume. Izzy sat beside her.

  Lorraine snapped several pictures before asking Rain for a picture of her alone. “I just love that costume. Do you mind?”

  “Oh. Okay.” Rain set Zac down and stood.

  “Now how about a Wonder Woman pose?” Lorraine asked, holding up her phone.

  “Wait.” I set my beer down on the counter and went to stand beside Rain. I pulled her close, giving her a little squeeze, and we both turned our heads to smile at Lorraine.

  Right before she snapped the photo, I subtly lifted the middle finger on the hand draped over Rain’s shoulder.

  It was childish and spiteful, but if she wanted to make fun of my wife, all her stuck-up friends would also see exactly what her brother-in-law thought of her.

  Chapter Four

  November

  “Could you please take your hand off my ass?”

  It was bad enough having my bare chest pressed up against a gorgeous, half-naked stranger with black hair and an eight-pack. I didn’t need his hands roaming over the rest of me too.

  He flashed a blindingly white smile my way. “Just trying to get into character.”

  “We’re posing for photos, not shooting porn.” I hissed at him through gritted teeth. The way Antoine and Quiana had staged this photo shoot, it had begun to feel like that was exactly what we were doing: shooting porn. I tried not to think about what Chase would say if he had any idea what I was up to—or worse, saw this guy with his hands all over me. The fact that I had only agreed to model in order to earn the money for Chase’s Christmas present wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference.

  Which was exactly why I wasn’t going to tell him.

  “Lance,” Antoine barked. “Put your hand on Rain’s hip and pull her toward you.”

  Lance immediately did as he was told. My breasts flattened against his chest, and I swallowed back the lump in my throat. To earn the money to buy VIP tickets to Harlan St. James and his band—Chase’s favorite next to Pearl Jam—I’d thought it would be a photo shoot like in the past. I should have known the fifteen-hundred-dollar-payday would involve a lot more than a few artsy shots.

  “Great. Now wrap your other hand in her hair and pull her head back. Rain, I want you to put your hand on the back of Lance’s neck. And loosen up! You’re stiff as a board. While I shoot, I want you to two to go at it like you haven’t seen each other in months.”

  “We don’t even know each other,” I grumbled under my breath.

  Lance grinned down at me and drew a finger across my lower back. “We could remedy that later. How about dinner?”

  “Pretty sure my husband would frown on that.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “Quiana! Music!”

  Something rhythmic and pulsing by Rhianna oozed out of the speakers, drowning out the sounds of the traffic below the loft and the whir and click of Antoine’s camera. Posing naked meant nothing to me, but a stranger writhing against me? That was something else altogether.

  I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head. Warm lips touched my shoulder, traveling slowly along the line of my neck. Teeth nipped my jaw.

  I wasn’t about to get into this the way Antoine wanted. Since my back was mostly to the camera, I didn’t have to look like I was enjoying it. But I was getting paid a lot of money, and I couldn’t just stand there like a cardboard cutout.

  “Rain,” Antoine’s voice boomed over the music. “Drop your hand to Lance’s hip slowly, and then run your finger around his waistband and start tugging like you’re going to undress him. Lance, keep doing what you’re doing. The camera is eating this up.”

  It didn’t seem possible, but Lance pulled me tighter on the one side, leaving enough of me exposed on the other side to give Antoine what he wanted.

  “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?” Lance’s words were warm against the shell of my ear. His arm dropped and his hand cupped my ass. When he pressed against me this time, I was ready to knee him in the nuts.

  “What the hell?” I gave him a hard shove.

  With an eight-pack like that, he didn’t budge. He just laughed and held his arms open wide.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m a guy, and you’re hot as fuck.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, covering my breasts, and spun toward Antoine, but not before I caught a glimpse of the tent in Lance’s black briefs.

  Antoine yelled something in French, and Quiana cut the music.

  “What’s wrong now?”

  I jabbed a finger in Lance’s direction. “He’s got a hard-on.”

  The way everyone was looking at me, you would have thought I’d accused him of breathing.

  “So?”

  Was he serious? “How would you like it if his dick was poking you in the belly?”

  Lance chortled, while Antoine eyed the offending appendage appreciatively.

  “Okay. Bad example.” I moved close enough to speak without Lance and Quiana hearing what I had to say. “This is really uncomfortable for me. I didn’t know I’d be shooting with someone else. He’s touching me and kissing me.” I waved my hand in the general direction of the encampment in Lance’s shorts while keeping my other arm against my breasts. “And that.”

  Antoine snapped his fingers, and Quiana materialized by his side. He handed off his camera and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

  “Rain, ma chérie. My client is paying top dollar to have Lance on the cover of her book, as well as for enough photos to promote it. She also specifically requested a sexy blonde. I’m paying you much more than I would any other model because I adore working with you, and I will also get enough extra shots for my portfolio. The camera loves you. Let me do my job. I’ll talk to Lance and see if I can get him to . . . stand down a bit.”

  “What if I put on a tube top or a strapless bra at least?”

  He shook his head. “Non. You need to appear bare. As it is, we’re working around those.” He motioned to the tiny panties I had on, which were rolled down to expose as much skin as possible. Antoine had only relented when he’d been able to see the two dimples above my ass cheeks. His client, whoever she was, had some pretty definite ideas as to what she wanted, which apparently included ass dimples and the V leading to Lance’s “happy place.” Her words, Quiana had said.

  While I continued to plead with Antoine, Lance grabbed himself a bottle of water from a fridge in the corner. He unscrewed the cap on the bottle, took a swig, and decided to add his two cents.

  “How about this? Let me kiss you. Not this for-the-camera stuff, but a real kiss. You know—tongue, teeth, the whole nine yards. Maybe there won’t be any chemistry, and it’ll be easier for me to stay unaffected.”

  He had to be out of his mind. “What? No!” I looked to Antoine for help, but he appeared to be considering Lance’s proposal.

  I snatched my robe from where it was draped over the sofa and belted it tightly. If I hadn’t talked Diane into charging those tickets on her credit card so Chase wouldn’t know how much I paid for them, I would have called the whole thing off. But now I didn’t
have any choice. I had to finish the shoot, whatever it took, so I could pay her back.

  Since Antoine would be no help, I zeroed in on Lance. “You’re a professional. Act like one. I’m married. Happily. I shouldn’t even be doing this.” My voice threatened to break. “I need a few minutes.”

  Safely tucked away in the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. After allowing myself to be in a position to let another man touch me, I wasn’t too happy with what I saw there. My palms were sweating, and my stomach was doing a slow roll. I ran a paper towel under some cool water and dabbed it on the back of my neck. I took several slow, deep breaths, inhaling to a count of ten and exhaling to a count of ten.

  I dared one last look in the mirror and wiped my sweaty hands on the terry cloth robe. “Let’s do this.”

  When I returned to my mark in front of the black backdrop, Lance looked pretty pleased with himself, and was probably thinking that he’d affected me way more than he should have given himself credit for, despite his rippling muscles, slicked-up skin, and thighs that could crack a walnut. Even if I hadn’t been married, his overinflated ego would’ve been a definite turnoff. Reminding myself of that was exactly what I needed. In fact, it was time to turn things around. All I needed was the upper hand, and I knew exactly how to get it.

  I stripped off the robe and tossed it aside. Lance’s eyes immediately fell to my breasts and the corners of his mouth curled up. I grabbed his hand and set it on my hip, higher than he’d had it originally, and flipped my hair over my shoulders.

  But before I tilted my head to expose my neck, I leaned in close enough so he could hear what I had to say.

  “Just so we’re clear, if your dick springs to life and gets within one inch of my body, I will instantly acquaint my right knee with your balls. Got it?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as the smile slid off his handsome face. He pulled back a fraction of an inch. It was barely noticeable, but it told me he knew I meant business.

  “Are we ready yet?” Quiana asked impatiently.

  I smiled up at Lance and answered. “Yes. I believe we are.”

  I didn’t get home from the city until after nine. I’d hoped to make it a few hours earlier, but the shoot took much longer than I’d expected, and then there were the delays I caused, which set us back even longer. We’d finished around five o’clock, so the ride from Brooklyn through Staten Island and into New Jersey took forever, thanks to rush hour traffic.

  I’d told Chase I was going to New York to do some Christmas shopping. Not exactly a lie, since the trip was about his present.

  “Hey,” he said as I came through the front door. He pushed himself up from the brown faux leather sofa, where he’d been stretched out watching TV. “You need me to help you carry stuff in?”

  I’d been “shopping” for twelve hours, and I didn’t have one bag to show for it. I shrugged out of my coat and unzipped my boots and stashed them in the closet near the door.

  “Nope, I’m good. I’ll get it in the morning. I don’t want you to see what I got you.”

  I started for the bedroom, desperate to wash away the feel of another man’s hands on my body.

  “Don’t I even get a kiss hello?” He stretched and gave me a sleepy smile. “C’mere. I missed you.”

  “I’m all yucky. Let me grab a shower. Then you can kiss me.”

  “Like I care if you’re yucky.” He laughed when he said it. “Just come cuddle with me for a bit. I’m beat. I’m not sure I’ll last much longer.”

  I hated this. I’d done nothing wrong—not technically. But knowing what Chase would think if he knew where I’d been and what I’d been doing made me feel like I’d been cheating on him. That and the feeling of Lance’s hands on my body and his erection pushing up against me—

  I shivered involuntarily.

  “I mean it. I really need a shower. I’m sorry. Go to bed. I’ll wake you when I come in.” I bolted down the hall, not even checking on the kids. I felt like a cheat and a sucky mother. I was neither, but my head didn’t want to hear it.

  The TV clicked off and the living room went dark. Shit. I could dart into the bathroom, strip out of my clothes, and jump into the shower without grabbing my stuff out of the bedroom, or I could act natural and get my robe and nightgown like a normal person.

  “Rain.”

  I darted into the bathroom and locked the door about two seconds before Chase tried to follow me in.

  Apparently normal wasn’t on tonight’s menu.

  He rattled the knob. “What the hell? It’s locked.”

  I pressed my forehead against the door. “I’m feeling kinda queasy. Like I’m gonna be sick.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  It was quiet for a few seconds. “Do you need anything? Some ginger ale or something?”

  He was treating me like a princess like he always did. But I didn’t deserve it. Not tonight.

  “Not right now. I just want to shower and hope this passes. You go on to bed. If I need anything, I’ll call you.”

  “Can you at least let me in to brush my teeth?”

  I turned on the water and tugged my sweater over my head. “Not right this minute.” I shimmied out of my jeans. It was ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

  I finished undressing and stepped into the shower, turning the temperature up as high as I could stand it. I closed my eyes and pictured Lance melting away down the drain, along with the feel of his hands on my breasts and hips. I leaned my head against the cool tile and took my first full breath since I’d walked into the house. A sob escaped when I let it out. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying. Not only was I washing away the shame on the outside, but my body was removing it from the inside as well.

  I couldn’t do this again. I was a grown woman, but I knew I could never do another photo shoot like today’s without Chase’s blessing. He would not have been okay with this, no matter what my excuse was.

  By the time I’d finished getting ready for bed and checked on Izzy and Zac, Chase was sound asleep. I’d promised to wake him, but I couldn’t. I pressed myself against his back and tucked my legs against his. When my arm went around his waist, he folded my hand into his. I waited, expecting him to speak, but he didn’t. He had reached for me in his sleep.

  I kissed his shoulder, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep on the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

  Chapter Five

  April

  It turned out Chase didn’t enjoy his gift as much as I’d hoped. He loved it Christmas morning when he tore off the shiny red and green paper, but four months, three tequila shots, two beers, and one really bad decision later, he was ready to lose his shit.

  The minute I closed the front door behind us, he erupted like one of those Italian volcanoes—the kind that wiped out an entire village.

  Apparently the uncomfortable silence of the hour-long car ride was over.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know.” My voice squeaked from disuse, weak and submissive. Not exactly how I wanted to sound.

  “Well, that was obvious.” He stormed into the kitchen and pulled down a bottle of Jack Daniels from the cabinet over the refrigerator. I needed a drink myself, but I wasn’t about to ask him to pour me one.

  “I hope you didn’t pay a lot for those tickets, because whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t worth it.”

  Wasn’t worth it? Fifteen hundred dollars and a shit ton of self-respect. That was all.

  He tossed the whiskey back and poured another. I was in some deep shit, but instead of feeling contrite, I was growing angrier by the second. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

  His hand was halfway to his mouth when he jerked it to a halt, sloshing whiskey over the front of his T-shirt and jeans and onto the kitchen floor.

  “Overreacting? Are you fucking kidding me?” He yanked his hand through his hair so hard I was surprised he didn’t pull it out by the roots.

&nb
sp; “How would you have felt if I’d dropped my pants in the middle of that crowd?”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s hardly the s—”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I didn’t do anything different than half the woman in front of that stage, what most women do for beads at Mardi Gras. It’s no big deal. Jeez. Chill out!”

  Judging by the look on his face, there would be no chilling out.

  “You really see nothing wrong with flashing your tits at the band while sitting on my shoulders?”

  “Would you have preferred if I’d done it standing beside you?”

  I thought the sparks shooting out of his eyes were going to set me on fire. I’d never seen him this angry, especially at me. For as much as I thought he was being unreasonable, I needed to backpedal a bit.

  I raised my hands in surrender.

  “Okay, I get it. I got caught up in the excitement and the music. And maybe the tequila. But it’s not like I was the only one—”

  “I wouldn’t care if every woman in that arena was topless. I only care that when the fucking bass player pointed at my wife, she showed him her tits.”

  I unbuttoned my coat and tossed it onto the kitchen chair. “You were looking forward to this concert for weeks. We could’ve met the band if you hadn’t dragged me out before it was over.”

  His head dropped and he stared at his boots. “No, Rain—you could’ve met the band. You think that giant with the neck tattoos was looking for cute couples to come backstage after the show to shake hands and pose for selfies?”

  I opened my mouth, but I needn’t have bothered.

  “They were looking for hot pieces of ass with great tits to get on their knees backstage and blow the band. That’s what he wanted. I’m sure your little display gave somebody up there a hard-on, not to mention the guys standing—”

  I jabbed a finger in his direction. “I don’t care for the way you’re talking to me.”

  He snorted. It was a short, ugly laugh. “No?” He finished off his second glass of whiskey and poured a third while I glared at him, my hands gripping the back of a chair so tightly my knuckles were turning white.