A Sure Thing

by Brit Blaise

  Cara quietly left the kitchen wishing she could tell Mike, but it wasn't her place. Felicia needed to be the one to share this with him. How would he react? Would it make a difference in his relationship with Felicia?

  Cara's heart stopped. Felicia's admission could make all the difference in the world. What's more ... if Cara weren't involved with him, he would probably give Felicia another chance. And maybe Cara needed to give them some space.

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  CHAPTER 14

  Mike spent three days dealing with emotions running the gamut from anger to hopelessness. Overwhelmed by exhaustion as sleepless nights exacted their toll, he didn't know what had happened. Cara managed to avoid him, despite his best efforts. Had she decided they were finished and not even given him a reason?

  "Did you order the wild rice?” Felicia stuck her head in his door to ask.

  "I thought you were ordering the rice,” he managed to snarl.

  "How much should I order?"

  "You know, Felicia, I could care less about the fucking wild rice. Just take care of it."

  Felicia stomped into his office and stood near the corner of his desk. “Call her,” she demanded.

  "Don't you think I've tried to call her? Her assistant said she left town, and she isn't answering her cell phone."

  "Call her mother. I'm sure she'll tell you how you can reach her.” Felicia pushed his magazines aside to sit on the corner of his desk. Déjà vu.

  "What's that?” She gave a gasp.

  "Nothing.” He opened the center drawer of his desk with one hand and scooped the ring box into it with the other so quickly there was no way Felicia could've gotten a good look.

  "A ring?” she asked. “Did you buy her an engagement ring?"

  Mike didn't trust himself to speak. He gave a nod.

  "When?"

  "A few days ago,” Mike said. “I'm looking stupid about now, aren't I?” He pulled the box back out of the drawer and rolled it in his hand.

  "You know, I think I might have an idea why Cara's not around,” Felicia told him.

  "And you're just now getting around to telling me?” Mike gripped the box so tightly it groaned in protest.

  "I think maybe she thinks if she isn't in the picture, you and I would get back together."

  "How in the world would she get a crazy idea like that?"

  "Do you have time to talk?” Felicia asked.

  * * * *

  "Room service."

  Cara pressed both hands against the mattress and pushed her weight off the rumpled bed. She wrapped the bedspread around her to cover her nightgown, leaving a hand free to grab her purse.

  The attendant glanced at her and averted his eyes. She knew what made him look away. Raw pain. Pain so sharp to see it was to bleed.

  "Just leave it on the table.” Feeling even more hollow than she sounded, she rummaged through her purse to find her wallet.

  "Anything else, miss?"

  "No, this is fine.” Her head throbbed with each word.

  Before the attendant opened the door to leave, there was a knock. “Are you expecting someone?” His face showed the possibility was incomprehensible to him. “Would you like me to open the door?” His hand hovered over the knob.

  "I guess you have to, unless you plan on staying until whoever it is gets tired of knocking and goes away."

  "Cara, I know you're in there. I saw room service go in."

  Mike's voice ripped through her like a buzz-saw in a gory slasher movie.

  Cara motioned for the attendant to open the door. Mike walked in, took one look at her and appeared to want to turn around and run the other way.

  "Have you lost weight?” he asked.

  "It's only been four days since you've seen me. I hardly think any weight loss would be visible."

  "Cara, I love you."

  Cara's heart bucked in her chest. She tried to make herself believe she'd just heard him tell her he loved her. “I think maybe I'm hallucinating. I could swear you just told me you love me."

  "I love you beyond reason, beyond anything I could have imagined."

  Just like in the movies, she told herself. “Now I know I'm hallucinating."

  "Felicia explained everything to me. She believes you think there's a chance I could get back together with her. I'm here to tell you, even if you tell me to get lost forever, I'll never be with Felicia again."

  "How can you be sure?” She fought a battle of personal restraint not to throw herself into his arms. When she caught her reflection in the mirror behind him, she sucked air in so fast she started to choke. “I need to take a shower.” Not waiting for a reply, she dashed toward the bathroom.

  Setting the showerhead on a stinging pulsating spray, realization clicked in her frozen brain as thousand of needles of water bombarded her. Mike loved her. Truly loved her.

  "Mind if I wash your back?"

  The thought of the last time they'd showered together made her smile. Mike pulled back the curtain and stood before her so splendidly handsome in his nakedness, a cry of delight escaped from her heart. With a swift reaction, her knees weakened, and a flood of joy swept through her.

  Mike loved her. Mike loved her!

  This time was different. He was completely naked. No condom. He wasn't the kind of man to forget something so important. Was he making a statement? And, just as easily, they could be making a baby. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  "I've never been more certain of anything in my life. I want to feel you and only you."

  "What about the pattering of little feet?” Cara teased, but his answer would tell her future.

  "A dream come true,” he whispered. “Don't get my hopes up."

  Cara reached for him. He stepped into the tub to lift her against him. She wrapped her legs around him and he pinned her back against the cold ceramic wall. With her legs spread wide, his cock-head probed against her slit. He slanted his lips across hers to kiss her long and hard while he tapped against her as his hips rotated.

  His lips were intoxicating, but she wanted it all ... right then. When she reached for him, Mike stilled and pulled away. “This means too much not to savor it."

  He was poised to enter her sex. She'd never made love without a condom ... and it thrilled her. This was more than giving him her body, it was about trust.

  He thrust upward into her and moaned. He trembled so hard, Cara began to wonder if she might be too heavy.

  "My first time,” he said.

  "Mine, too."

  "I don't know how long I can last like this. Even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined you'd feel this good. You're killing me.” Mike began to move slowly and groaned with each thrust. He stopped to rock against her. He was breathing so hard, she wondered if he might hyperventilate.

  "Rest your shoulders against the wall. I'm not going to let you drop.” He moved back until Cara could see where they joined. “Don't move,” he said.

  He had both hands low on her back supporting her.

  "Touch your clit,” he told her. “I'm not moving until I know you're about to go off."

  Cara reveled in the tingle of embarrassment shooting through her when she lowered her hands. One to spread the folds of her lips, the other to massage her clit. She reached down to touch the silken base of his erection impaling her. Her skin was stretched tightly around him.

  "Concentrate, sweetheart. You're killing me here."

  Cara began to move her finger over the swollen nub. It seemed like only seconds before she was ready to orgasm. “Holy cannelloni,” she breathed before the contractions began to push against him, deep inside her.

  He lifted her tight against him and thrust, over and over. Each time she went higher into the bliss, propelled by the thick length of him filling and stretching her. She screamed with each pleasure-filled plunge, “Yes, yes, yes!"

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  CHAPTER 15

  Cara's friend Riva had come clean and admitted her complicity in
getting Mike and Cara together at both of their mothers’ promptings. There was no sure thing, and once Riva realized she was dealing with two desperate older women, she'd fled to New York. Once safe and far away, she called Cara to confess her part in their plan.

  Poor Felicia had played right into their hands and became a scapegoat. Cara believed her own mother more than capable of setting the events in motion; she owned a large interest in the TV station televising Mike's class. But Betty? They didn't know the two women even knew each other.

  Mike had a plan.

  Cara tried not to squirm in her chair as she tugged at her pink polyester mini-skirt. The matching bolero jacket fit so tight across her breasts, she wondered if a button would pop if she breathed too hard.

  "Where in the world did you get this atrocious outfit?” When she looked into his face, Mike's irresistible grin became infectious. After all, it wasn't every day a plus-sized woman had the chance to dress like retro-Barbie. She giggled.

  "Felicia has friends in the theater department at a local university. You're wearing a prop from the musical Hair.” Mike sipped his wine and winked at her.

  "In other words, keep quiet. It could have been worse? Where's Felicia anyway? How could she pass up seeing me dressed this way?"

  Mike pulled a disposable camera from his pocket and snapped it before she could formulate a protest. “I told her I'd get pictures."

  "Give me that camera."

  "Not on your life. You owe Felicia,” he teased. “I think this idea of wearing costumes is turning me on. Imagine the possibilities."

  "I hope this plan of yours is worth the trouble. You'll notice my choice of clothes for you isn't nearly as ridiculous.” Cara reached for her wine. She needed fortification before facing their mothers. Once they'd put their heads together, she wondered why they hadn't been better detectives. Her mother owned an insider's share in the television station, and both Betty and her mother were in the same bridge club.

  "I beg your pardon. Every time I move, I sound as if I'm sitting in a saddle."

  "I don't know, maybe you could get a gig in rock band or buy a motorcycle. Tight leather pants are very sexy.” She kept a straight face.

  "This is going to work and we're going to show two meddling mothers the error of their ways. Here they come now. Are you ready?” Mike asked as he stood up.

  "I'm ready.” She remained seated as the women approached from behind her, so she couldn't see them.

  "Where's Cara?” she heard her mother ask. A chuckle welled in her chest and threatened to come spewing out as a full-fledged laugh. Cara strained to gained control. Laughing would ruin it all.

  Mike looked down and winked at her. “Mom, Mrs. Thomas, I'm glad the two of you could join us this evening."

  "Isn't Cara planning on being here?” Betty asked.

  "Cara's right here,” Mike answered nonchalantly.

  Cara's mother gasped.

  "Cara? What happened to your beautiful hair?” Betty asked as both women moved to stand on either side of her to inspect her.

  Cara mother leaned in to get a closer view. “That's not real, is it? Why on earth would you put something like that on your head?"

  "What? You don't like it?” Cara pretended dismay at the prospect.

  "No!” Both women spoke in unison.

  "Mike wants me to bleach my hair blonde, so I borrowed this wig to see how I'd look. Mike loves it.” Cara gave the ugly fake hair a Mae West pat.

  "You can't be serious,” her mother said, clutching her hand to her chest as if she might go into cardiac arrest. “You can't be serious,” she repeated, this time to Mike, who shrugged his shoulders in response.

  "Your natural hair is beautiful. Mike, tell her she can't bleach her hair,” Betty demanded.

  "I disagree, Mother. I think blonde is becoming on her.” Mike gave dismissive gesture. “Will you please have a seat?"

  "This way I can finally wear pink,” Cara said after they were seated. “It's Mike's favorite color.” She reached across the table to link her fingers with his.

  "You hate pink,” her mother exclaimed angrily.

  Cara shook her head dismissively. She reminded herself this was nothing compared to her mother's devious interference.

  "I chose the outfit Cara is wearing. Doesn't she look gorgeous in it?” Mike said proudly.

  Cara released Mike's hand to pop out of her chair like a jack-in-the-box at the mention of her outfit. She pivoted in a full circle. For effect, she turned a second time, more slowly. Only the flash of Mike's camera stopped her.

  "Mike has better taste than I do,” she said. She ran her hand down the skirt, resisting the urge to give it a tug. As she sat back down, she picked up her wine glass and saluted Mike.

  "Mike is picking your clothes?” her mother snapped. “You haven't let anyone pick your clothes since you were four years old."

  "As you can see, it's about time I follow someone's advice. I never would have chosen this outfit in a million years, yet everyone who sees it can't tear their eyes away."

  "I don't doubt it.” Her mother looked sick.

  "Sounds as though the two of you are getting serious.” Betty sounded hopeful. For a second, Cara felt sorry for her. Then she remembered the onion Betty had slipped her during class and the flaming kebab. Betty had a wicked streak.

  "We are,” Cara said. “What do you think, Mike?"

  "The cooking classes have shown Cara needs a hero. I don't know how she managed without the strong hands of a man to care for her. I'm that man.” Mike must have sucked all of the air from the room, if his puffed chest was any indication.

  Cara nearly lost it. Grabbing her napkin off her lap, she buried her face in it, pretending to fend off a sneeze.

  Betty stared at her son. “This is a side of you I didn't know existed."

  "I think Cara's helplessness brings out the best in me."

  "Cara is far from helpless!” Her mother looked as if she might leap across the table to strangle him. “She's a successful business woman, very successful."

  "I don't want to minimize her financial success. My personal experience, since I've known Cara, shows me money has nothing to do with her need for a man to take care of her."

  Cara winced. Mike might be laying it on too thick. No way would her mother believe she'd be attracted to such a blatant chauvinist.

  "Mother, please,” Cara said. “We have a long time to work the kinks out of our relationship."

  "Both Cara and I love each other, but based on our past histories, we need to proceed with caution and take it slowly—very slowly."

  At first, her mother seemed mollified by his words, but it didn't take her long to realize the implications. “How slowly?"

  "We thought we'd date a couple of years and then, if we decide we're compatible, we'd have a long engagement of three or four years,” Mike told her mother.

  Cara took a gulp of wine and smiled. “Neither of us is ready to rush head-long into anything."

  Cara watched her mother's face darken, knowing they were driving her insane. Just a little over a month earlier, they'd come to this same restaurant for Cara's thirtieth birthday. At the time, her mother had expressed her disappointment Cara hadn't found a husband and started a family. She spent most of the evening bemoaning the lack of time to produce lots of grandbabies.

  Cara watched her mother's mouth open and then snap shut. “Yes, Mother?"

  "What about babies, Cara? You're not getting any younger, you know."

  "Babies?” Mike choked. “We certainly aren't ready to be thinking about babies. We haven't discussed anything that personal. I don't know if I'm comfortable talking about it yet."

  "Mike's not comfortable talking about this."

  "No, sweetheart.” Mike reached across the table to pat her hand. “We should clear the air here. Mrs. Thomas, I don't know if I even want children, and I haven't asked Cara's opinion."

  Cara missed her cue. She was too busy thinking what happened in the shower ...
and then several times later. She could be pregnant already. “I don't really know how I feel,” Cara said. “I know what's expected of me, but I'd like to give it more thought before I answer such an important question."

  "Cara, I can't believe my ears. You always said you wanted a large family. You said you would never raise an only child, like yourself. Betty, do you believe we're hearing this?"

  Betty looked as if she was on the verge of tears.

  "Could we please change the subject?” Cara pleaded with her mother.

  "Good idea. I certainly don't want to hear more of this,” her mother snapped. “Perhaps we should order some food."

  Cara picked up her menu and smiled at her mother. “Good food is something I'm sure we can agree on. Right, Mother?"

  "Yes, we can agree on good food.” Mike jerked the menu from Cara's hands. “Cara, I'll order for you."

  "Thank you,” she managed to say, hiding the fact he'd managed to shock her. He was good at this. Perhaps too good? But then again, he'd been a man for thirty-four years, so he should know how to imitate a bad one. It couldn't be hard.

  "Do you think I might be allowed a glass of wine?” she asked him.

  Mike took his time while he appeared to be considering her request. “Are you certain it won't make you bloat."

  "Thank you, Mike."

  "Good grief,” her mother muttered under her breath, “I think I'm going to be sick."

  "You aren't feeling well?” Mike asked. “I heard a new strain of flu is making the rounds."

  Cara somehow managed to make it throughout the rest of the evening without betraying herself.

  Her mother brooded and hardly said a word after the food arrived. Betty looked almost as miserable. When both refused to have dessert, Mike shot Cara a knowing look.

  "I guess we should call it an evening then,” he said. “But, before you leave, I have a special request. Cara has agreed to help me prepare a special meal for our last class. We're inviting a few people to be our audience and I hoped you'd agree to come, Mrs. Thomas."