“No. We talk now.” He motioned with his hand.
I squeezed my knees together. “I’m going to start leaking any second. You wouldn’t want me ruining your rug, would you? It looks expensive.”
He stared at me. “Make it quick.”
I turned and took a hopeful step toward the bathroom.
“One last thing. Jane.” He sounded angry.
I froze in place. “Yeah?”
“Turn around,” he commanded.
I did. My heart was racing. There was no way out of this.
He frowned, “What’re you hiding in your hands, Jane?”
Caught.
If I dropped the ring, he’d see it fall. I could throw my hands in the air, thus throwing the ring across the room, and shout, “See! Nothing up my sleeve!” But my purple LSP T-shirt didn’t even have sleeves, and, with my luck, if I threw the ring it would either hit him in the face or break a window or one of the vanity mirrors or who knew what. But he’d see it for sure.
“Jane. What’re you hiding?”
“What did you say your name was again?” I was trying to distract him.
“I didn’t.” He held out his palm. “Hand it over.”
“Hand what over?”
He wagged his fingers. “Now.”
My shoulders slumped and I stared at the floor, too embarrassed to look at him. Now I was the giant asshead. “I swear I was just looking. I wasn’t going to take anything. It fell out by accident.” By accident? Wow, that sounded too stupid even for me.
“Show me,” he growled.
I unfolded my hands in front of him, cringing, expecting a whipping any second.
“What’s that?” he asked.
To my surprise, the ring I held wasn’t one of the million karat jewels I’d fondled before he walked in. It was a simple gold band engraved with two hearts. Actually, it looked tarnished, so it wasn’t even gold. Probably brass or a cheap alloy. It looked liked the kind of worthless trinkets we sold at the 95 Cent Store in packs of six. It hadn’t been in the ivory box and I had no idea where it came from.
His eyebrows lifted casually. “Where’d you find that?”
“I have no idea. I was… Look. I’m going to be absolutely honest with you.”
He smirked, “Are you sure?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. I promise. Okay, I was trying on some of the necklaces and earrings I found in the vanity, just to see how they looked on me. I kind of got carried away pretending I was a movie star or something. I mean, look at this vanity, right? It forces you to be more glamorous.” Did I sound convincing? I thought I did. Did it matter I’d left out the part about looking through the ivory box and pulling the priceless rings out? Of course not.
Did he look convinced? Not really.
I continued, “Anyway. I didn’t take anything. I don’t know if this ring was stuck to one of the necklaces or what. It must’ve fallen in my lap without me noticing. I wasn’t going to take it. In fact, I’ll put it back right now.” I stepped around him and set it gingerly on the vanity with a tiny plink!
The silence in the room was suddenly overwhelming.
He folded his arms across his suit jacket and glared at me. “How do I know you didn’t take anything else?” Why did he have to look so damn handsome while he was interrogating me?
“I didn’t!” I pushed my glasses back up my nose for emphasis.
“How do I know you don’t have something in your pockets?”
“I promise I don’t.”
“The only way to know for sure is to strip search you.” His eyes darkened dangerously.
“What?!” A wave of electric pleasure zinged through my entire body.
“And check every one of your body cavities by hand.”
“My what?” I swallowed hard. “By what?”
“By tongue.”
“Did you just say tongue?”
“No.”
“No, you said—”
“You heard me, Jane,” he growled, his eyes narrowing with a hint of menace.
I gawked at him. Was he serious? He looked damn serious. Now I was getting frightened. I was in a random strange mansion who knew where, wasn’t sure if I could find my way home, and now I was trapped in this room with a gorgeous lunatic. I hadn’t even brought my phone with me because stupid Zack had wanted to meet Chelsea and not me! I couldn’t call for help because of him!
Zack, you ass hat! Now I’m screwed because of you! And scared!
I swallowed hard.
Mr. G.A. glared. Was he going to screw me?
I mean, not that I’d ever been screwed by a man as handsome as him. But I was very open to the possibility.
Then again, searching body cavities by hand wasn’t screwing.
Or was it?
He had said by tongue…
“What’s it gonna be, Jane?” A devilish smile played across his full lips and perfect teeth. “Do I chain you up in my sex dungeon and never let you out, or…”
I was afraid to ask what the “or” was. But I sort of wanted to find out. He was that hot.
A barrage of images flashed through my mind. In all of them I was tied up naked with leather straps or handcuffs. Yes, I saw the Fifty Shades movie when it came out. Twice. In the theaters. I also own the DVD. And downloaded it to my iPhone. Anyway, all of the images now flashing through my mind included every size and shape of spiked and studded leather S&M weapon you could imagine. In my fantasy, Mr. G.A. was shirtless, looking sexy as hell in tight black leather pants and boots. He had great abs and a great ass. And shoulders. And arms. And chest. On his face he wore a standard black masquerade mask and was tugging stout black leather gloves onto each hand like a kinky sex surgeon. The tuxedoed butler I’d imagined outside with a silver tray now stood beside Mr. G.A. with a tray that held several many-tailed whips. The butler said, Might I suggest the cat of nineteen tails instead of the nine, sir? This young strumpet needs to be taught a lesson she won’t forget.
The real Mr. G.A. flashed a dirty smile that I didn’t like at all.
I cringed. Fifty Shades was a movie. A fantasy.
I wasn’t a strumpet and I didn’t actually like pain. At all. And I certainly didn’t need to learn any lessons.
“I should go,” I said, my voice quivering. Why hadn’t I brought my phone? Or pepper spray? Or a straight jacket for crazy Mr. G.A.?
“You’re not going anywhere, you little strumpet.”
“Did you just call me a strumpet?”
He smiled an evil smile.
Gulp.
Time to run!
Chapter 8
Mr. G.A. cracked a smile and held out his hand to shake. “I’m just kidding. I don’t have a sex dungeon. Name’s Wesley. Wesley Callaway. You can call me Wes.”
“Wait. Do you or don’t you have a sex dungeon?”
“Not here,” he winked.
“Wait, do you really have one or not?”
He smiled mysteriously.
“I’ll take that as a yes, Wes.”
“Take it any way you want.”
Reluctantly, I shook his hand. It was much larger than mine and it was very warm, which I found comforting.
I shook it for a long time.
It was SO warm…
And firm…
And I stared at his crotch.
Whoops!
I met his gaze and giggled. “Nice to meet you, Wes.”
“You can have the ring if you want. I really don’t have any idea where it came from.”
“Oh, I don’t—” I found myself staring at it where it lay on the vanity. I didn’t know why, but I really wanted to keep it. Maybe as a token to remind me of Wes because I knew I would probably never see him again and he was treating me much better than most men ever did. I wanted to remember this moment.
I picked up the ring.
“Put it on,” he suggested.
“Okay.” I didn’t want to put it on my ring finger. That felt too symbolic, like Wes was proposing to m
e, which he wasn’t. I mean, a man like him would never propose to a woman like me. So I tried to put it on my middle finger. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get it past the first knuckle. I grinned at Wes. “Sorry.” Why was I apologizing?
He was staring straight into my eyes. His blazed with their own mahogany fire. “Try your ring finger.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Okay.” I felt the oddest sense of hope. My entire chest sizzled like something special was about to happen. Something that would change my life forever. I slid the ring down past my nail…
Past the first knuckle…
And then—
It stopped well before the second knuckle.
Damn it.
I tried to force it.
I was going to get this ring on my damn ring finger even if I had to grind my skin off!
“I don’t think it fits,” Wes said.
Was he disappointed? Or was I projecting? I wasn’t sure.
“Maybe try your pinky?” he suggested.
“Yeah,” I muttered, disappointed for no good reason. Finally it fit. Barely.
I held it up for Wes to inspect.
He smiled, “Looks great.”
Those lips… I nearly swooned right then and there. Instead I sighed. “What do I owe you?”
“Owe me?”
“This is an estate sale, isn’t it?”
“It is. But I have no idea where that thing came from. You can have it.”
“Don’t be silly. I can’t just take it. How about ten bucks?”
“Sure, okay. I’ll take ten.”
I winced. “I don’t have my purse.”
He chuckled, “What am I going to do with you, Jane?”
Anything you want, Sexy Wes. Anything. Yes, I was gaga for Mr. G.A.G.A. Great Abs, Great Ass. “Can I bring the money by later?”
“I won’t be here later.”
“I could bring it by tomorrow.”
“I won’t be here tomorrow.” He put his hand on my shoulder in a brotherly way. “I really don’t need the ten dollars, Jane. But thank you anyway.”
My fantasy was evaporating before my eyes and I panicked, speaking rapidly, “But you gave me the free water and the ring and all the hospitality. The water alone was worth at least five and—”
“The entire case cost eight bucks at Costco.”
“Well the hospitality is worth at least fifty.”
He shook his head and smiled. “Forget it, Jane. It’s on the house.”
But I don’t want to forget about you, Wes! Men like you don’t talk to me unless they’ve met my sister and they’re trying to get to her through me. They don’t care about me, and they certainly don’t ever smile at me like you’re smiling at me right now. My heart was trying to jump out of my chest with gratitude and excitement. And hope. Sometimes the impossible happened, right?
I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I didn’t want this moment to end. Whatever came after wouldn’t live up to my forever fantasy: wedding bells, the altar, the cheers, wedding cake in the face, the laughter, the love, and the limousine ride to an exotic honeymoon, the beautiful bouncing babies that followed soon after, and last but not least, the happily ever after ending…
Suddenly sad, I stared at the floor. My glasses slid down my nose. I pushed them up. They slid back down. What was the point?
“Jane, I don’t mean to rush you, but I have work to do.” His voice was gentle, compassionate, and completely comforting.
I was going to cry. But not in front of him. I sniffed, “Oh, right.”
“Do you need a ride home?”
“A what?”
“A ride home.”
“Uhhh…” Even though my wedding fantasy would never come true, I couldn’t believe that a male runway model like Wes was offering me a ride. There was no way I was turning him down, wedding or no wedding. “Sure,” I smiled meekly.
He patted my shoulder. “Okay. I’ll have my driver take you home.” He pulled a phone out of his suit jacket and fired off a text.
“Oh.”
Why couldn’t Wes be the one to drive?
Because the fantasy is always better than reality.
He walked me out of the master bedroom and down a long hallway. Patterned carpeting with wavy lines ran all the way to the end. A series of framed black and white glamour headshots, large vintage movie posters, and a bunch of really old magazine cosmetics advertisements were mounted between art deco sconces on both walls. The vibe was almost like a golden age movie theater lobby. As we walked, I noticed the same woman was in all the posters, photos, and ads. Her name was featured on most. Helen Callaway.
“Wes, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
Will you marry me? I cleared my throat. “Who is Helen Callaway?”
He smiled, “My grandmother. This was her house.”
“Was?”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry. Did she pass recently?”
He slowed to a stop, took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling and sighed. His jaw ticked and he closed his eyes, holding his feelings in.
I could relate. I was always holding my feelings in. “I’m sorry, Wes. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No worries. You didn’t know.” He smiled down at me, his chocolate eyes shimmering. He was really tall, at least 6’2”. To me, he was a giant. And not at all an ass.
“Were you and your grandmother close?”
“Very.”
“I’m really sorry.” I touched his wrist.
“Thanks,” he smiled, his voice tight. “She lived a long and full life. It’ll be a year next week since her passing.”
“Oh. I, uh—”
“We should go.” He placed his big hand against the small of my back and I nearly fainted. “Are you okay, Jane?”
“Yeah, I’m…” All choked up.
“Shall we?” He cocked his head.
I couldn’t speak. I just nodded.
He led me downstairs, his hand still on my back.
I think I floated the entire way.
Outside, most of the cars from earlier were gone. Two remained: the one I think was a Bentley and the blue Lamborghini. A good looking guy with burly arms, short salt and pepper hair, and distinguished wrinkles in all the right places stood in front of the Bentley with his tan muscled arms clasped in front. He wore a pinstriped polo shirt and khaki slacks.
Wes said, “Gavin, will you please take this beautiful young lady home for me?”
Beautiful?
He didn’t mean it, but it was the thought that counted.
“Certainly, sir,” Gavin said with a British accent. He was much sexier than the butler I’d pictured earlier. Gavin had an MI5 look about him, or maybe SAS, or like he had once been security for the Queen of England. He opened the back door of the Bentley for me. “Hop in, luv. We’ll get you home right quick.” He winked at me and smiled.
I almost swooned at Gavin’s graciousness and charm. He was very easy on the eyes. I couldn’t help but giggle to myself. I’d never been waited on hand and foot by two handsome men before. Not even one handsome man.
But I was far more interested in Wes, who held out his hand for a final shake. “It was nice meeting you, Jane.” Despite that hint of danger he’d displayed earlier, he was incredibly polite.
I stared at his hand. I didn’t want to just shake it. I wanted to jump in his arms so he could hold me forever. I frowned. I wasn’t about to do that. Instead, I shook his hand and savored the feeling of my small hand enveloped in his big one for the last time. I tried to burn the memory of this moment into my brain. “Nice meeting you too, Wes.” I wanted to cry again.
I was absolutely certain I would never see him again.
“Enjoy the ring,” he winked as I climbed into the car.
“Oh. I will.” I sat down on the smooth leather seat. I couldn’t resist the urge to look up at him one last time. As usual, my glasses slid down my nose. I reached up to push them in place, but Wes stop
ped me with a smile.
“Wait,” he muttered. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I want to see your eyes.”
“Oh.”
He leaned down and gently removed my glasses. This had suddenly turned into an overwhelmingly romantic moment, even though nothing romantic was actually happening.
Without my glasses on, he was only a handsome blur. I could tell he was looking into my eyes, but to me his were just chocolate smudges. Even so, my heart started pounding. The longer he looked, the more my entire body lit up like fireworks.
“You have beautiful green eyes, Jane. Like emeralds with flecks of gold. They’re truly radiant.”
Swoon! He called my eyes radiant. And beautiful. No man this attractive had ever paid me such a priceless compliment. I almost passed out and slid out of the leather seat and onto the stone pavers like a puddle of swoon. It took everything I had to stay conscious and drink in this moment.
“You should wear contacts so people can see your eyes.” He handed my glasses back and I took them but didn’t put them on.
“I wish I could,” I cringed, “but I can’t. My prescription is too strong.” My magic moment faded as fast as it had arrived. I lowered my head and put my glasses back on with a sense of shame.
“No matter. I’ve seen them and I’ll remember them forever.”
I looked up into his smiling eyes.
“Goodbye, Jane.”
“Bye.”
Wes gently closed my door.
That’s when I nearly did faint dead away. Wes had just said the most romantic thing any man had ever said to me.
I too would remember this moment forever…
While I swooned in the back seat, Gavin started the engine and Wes watched as we drove down the stone drive.
My pinky was tingling and I was pretty sure my new ring was cutting off my circulation. I twisted it on my finger, trying to relieve the pressure. I’d probably have to soap it off when I got home. It really was just an old piece of junk. But I would treasure it forever. This ring was proof that at least for a moment, a gorgeous man had flirted with me in his mansion, and he’d done his best to make me laugh and feel special, all while treating me with the utmost respect.
Not everyone could be so lucky.
If I Were Beautiful (If I Were... #1) Page 6