by Robyn Roze
“Shay?”
Her breathing restarted and her eyes fluttered. She had zoned out for a moment. Skillfully reading his expression, she responded, “No, Sean. I am not an alcoholic.” Then she picked up her utensils and portioned some lobster risotto on her fork. They ate in silence for a bit and enjoyed the candle-lit ambience of Pour Mes Amis.
“Thanks for bringing me here, Sean. The atmosphere is really nice and the food is outstanding,” she said, as she placed her fork down on the mostly empty plate. “But Gaetano’s is still my favorite.” She winked at him and he smiled in reply.
“Yeah, I know. The quirks,” he remarked, with feigned perturbation, pushing away his bare bowl and plate of empty clamshells.
She grinned, slowly. “The quirks,” she repeated throatily, with a heavy stare that seemed to have stopped his breathing. She watched as he reached under her seat and, once again, pulled her beside him. Then she felt one strong hand caressing her bare back and the other cupped her face as he leaned in for a kiss.
Oh, she did not want to rush this night. Patient, unrelenting flirtation was her favorite aphrodisiac. She and Sean Parker had mastered the art over the past year and a half. It was exactly her type of romance. Flowers? No thanks. Mushy, sentiment filled cards? No thanks. Rose petals scattered on the bed and poetry reading? No thanks and hell no. She wanted a man—a man who knew what she liked. Sean had read her masterfully from the beginning.
They had clicked immediately. It was lust at first sight, which too often evaporates the second someone opens their mouth to speak. But not with Sean Parker, no, no, no. What came out of his mouth rumbled and teased, making everything in her reverberate like a tuning fork. He had made her toes curl without even touching her. Now that was a man, in her book.
Someone clearing his throat above them broke the spell of their slow, deliberate kiss. “Will you be having dessert this evening?” the eager garçon inquired, with his head cocked and a knowing grin.
Shayna saw the answer in Sean’s eyes. Without breaking their connection, she replied, “Crème brûlée.” Sean’s lids slowly dropped and she felt his hot breath as he exhaled. He raised his hand and, resignedly, signaled ‘two’ to the attendant. They both laughed softly and Shayna moved to reposition her seat, but Sean held it firmly in place.
“Oh, no, Shayna Montgomery. You’re not going anywhere,” he breathed, huskily. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he stroked the side of her face. “Twenty-five years?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, and Shayna stared placidly at him. “That’s a helluva a long time.”
“Tell me about it. I also have a twenty-three-year-old daughter, Danielle.”
His brows rose and his eyes popped open, then narrowed to slits. “Wait a minute. I asked you once if you had kids.”
“No you didn’t. You asked me if I was expecting a custody fight or a battle over child support payments.”
She could see Sean rewinding to that conversation and then he grinned and shook his finger at her.
“Oh, you are good. That is what I asked.” He nodded and glanced off into the distance. “And you said there aren’t any kids to battle over.” He sat back in his chair and laughed. “Now I get it. You told me the truth. Without telling me anything. Damn. I’m going to have to watch you,” he said settling himself back around her. Shayna smiled and arched her brow in agreement. “So, how’s your daughter handled the split?”
Shayna huffed and closed her eyes. “Of course, she thinks it’s all my fault.”
“Why?”
“Because Daddy can’t possibly do anything wrong, and I can’t do anything right.”
Sean’s brows quirked. “You’ve never said why you broke up. After that many years, it seems like it would just be easier to stay together.”
Shayna sighed. “Sean, let me tell you something about myself right up front. When someone shows me who they really are, I believe them. Nothing they say after that point will ever erase what I know to be the truth of their actions.” She answered his quizzical expression. “I walked in on Frank banging his twenty-one-year-old receptionist—in our bed. There was nothing he could’ve said that would’ve stopped me from packing my bags and leaving that very same day. And, in a nutshell, that’s why Dani is so angry with me. You see, I didn’t do enough to try and make it work with her dad.”
Sean’s expression was ineffable. “Did he want to work it out?” She nodded wistfully. Sean’s demeanor changed, becoming more serious, and he moved slightly away from her. “Does he still want to work it out?”
Shayna shrugged slightly. “If I had to guess, I’d say he might. I’ve heard rumors that his PYT isn’t as much fun anymore. Maybe the novelty wore off. Maybe she didn’t understand that Frank was only going to get half of everything that we worked for all those years. She was probably expecting the lifestyle I had.” Shayna huffed. “That little girl could never fill my shoes. Let alone have my bank account.” She noticed that Sean looked more worried.
“Is there any chance the two of you might get back together, Shay?” he asked apprehensively.
Without equivocation, she calmed his obvious concern with a merciless expression and tone. “None. He had me for more than twenty years and decided to risk everything—for a piece of ass.” She could tell that her brutal tone and words startled Sean, but she also sensed that he believed her. His body language softened and he moved back in closer to her. “He’s not the man I thought he was. Now that I know who he is, there’s no going back—ever.”
For the first year and half, Frank had refused to give Shayna a divorce and had kept insisting that he loved her, wanted to work it out, and would even go to marriage counseling. Yeah, if he thought they needed professional help, he should’ve come to her before he stuck his dick somewhere it didn’t belong. When Shayna Montgomery was done with someone, that was it, stick a fork in it.
“Your ex must be an idiot,” Sean whispered, gruffly, smoothing the back of his fingers against her cheek. Shayna slid her hand along Sean’s strong, square jaw line, relishing the feel of stubble against her sensitive flesh.
“You need to know something else, Sean. I’ve spent the last twenty-five years married—the last three years of which I didn’t even live with my husband.” She skimmed her finger across his soft bottom lip. “At some point tonight, you and I are going to end up hot, sweaty, and gloriously naked.” Sean exhaled sharply, his hot breath caressing her skin. “You’ll only be the third man that I’ve ever slept with, and the first since leaving Frank three years ago.” She noticed the precipitous fall and rise of his Adams apple. “I don’t sleep with a man unless he’s proven himself worthy.”
His grip on her tightened and he pulled her closer. “I’m damn glad I made the cut,” he murmured, roughly.
Shayna smiled, slyly. “Only by the slimmest of margins.” She bit her lips together in a failed attempt to stifle a giggle and warmed even further when she saw Sean’s growing grin.
“Here are your crème brûlées. May I bring coffee or cappuccino for either of you?” The server waited expectantly.
Shayna wasn’t sure if Sean had heard the question. He just kept staring at her with a dreamy expression.
“Black,” Shayna said to the server without looking at him. Once again, Sean raised his hand and signaled ‘two’ coffees. She smiled as Sean drew close for a kiss. Holy hell, he was a great kisser, and his lips? So soft, so smooth...
She twisted her fingers in the subtle chocolate waves at the back of his neck. She felt his strong hand glide down from her shoulder and skim along her side, his thumb just catching the swell of her breast. She felt her nipple stiffen and jump to attention just from the hint of contact.
There was more throat clearing from the waiter. “I’ll just leave your check and you can pay me whenever you’re ready. Uh, no rush. Take your time.”
She felt Sean’s lips curve into a smile against hers. She broke away first and shook her head softly to clear it.
“Let’s eat ou
r dessert, or we’ll never get out of here tonight.”
“Yeah,” he agreed hesitantly, stroking her cheek one last time before turning to face the crème brûlée.
While enjoying dessert and coffee, a remembered question popped into Shayna’s head. “Why are you glad I’m older than you thought I was?”
Sean swallowed the last of his warm custard before pressing around his mouth with a napkin. He looked at her circumspectly and took a drink of coffee before settling back in his seat and placing both hands on his thighs, saying, “Women younger than me always want kids, or already have them.” He shrugged. “At least, that’s been my experience.” He paused and bit at his lip. “And I never wanted any.” He waited a couple of beats, appearing to wait for her reaction before continuing. “So, it was always a deal-breaker, at some point. Either they’d think I’d change my mind in time, or I’d think the same about them. It just never worked out that way.” He gauged Shayna carefully. “Does that make me a kid-hating bastard?”
Shayna shook her head compassionately. “I never wanted kids either.”
His shock at her candid admission was evident. “But, you...your daughter—” he stammered.
“Frank really wanted kids. He would’ve loved four or five of the little buggers running around. I conceded to one. I’m sure he thought I’d change my mind after that, thinking that some magical, maternal feeling would take over and turn me into a baby-making machine. Didn’t happen. Much the opposite. It reinforced that I’d been right about myself all along.” It was clear that Sean Parker had never heard a woman utter these words before. He looked utterly stupefied.
“I love my daughter more than anything or anyone. The only time in my life that I’ve ever experienced love at first sight is when she was placed in my arms for the first time. Having loved her since that moment, I would never and have never wished she wasn’t in my life. Having said that, it’s the only thing I’ve ever worked so hard at and still end up feeling like I’ve failed. So, no, I don’t think you’re a kid-hating bastard. I think you did the right thing by trusting yourself. You know yourself better than anyone does, or at least you should. I think too often people just do what their spouse, family, or society expects. They tell themselves that what they want is wrong, because everybody else says it is. But at some point, you have to pull out of the herd and listen to yourself, drown out the stampede of voices with your own.”
Sean was completely unreadable. He sandwiched her hand between both of his, pulling it up to rest their elbows on the tabletop, and rubbed his shadowed chin across their joined flesh. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
He finally spoke with palpable emotion in his voice, “Where the hell have you been all my life, Shayna Montgomery?”
She smiled amusingly, “Better late than never.”
CHAPTER 3
The jazz lounge across the way was fabulous. Sean knew she loved smooth jazz, and surprised her when, after paying for their meal, he grabbed her hand and led her through the back of the bistro, across the alleyway, and through the rear entry of another establishment. They found a stepped-up, velvety, maroon-colored booth in the low-lit lounge, where they could see the musicians and the under-lit dance floor. Oh, she did love to dance, especially to smooth jazz.
She and Frank had taken every dance class imaginable at the Arthur Murray studio. It was something that he had introduced her to when they were dating, and she had taken to it like a fish to water. They were seamless together on a dance floor. Why wouldn’t they have been? They had been great between the sheets, often times phenomenal. Their bodies had always melded and fit perfectly.
Frank Chastain did not look like the typical sixty-five-year-old man. Although, with today’s focus on clutching to one’s youthful exterior as long as possible, not to mention medical advancements, people in their fifties, sixties, and beyond could look very different from the population of just twenty or thirty years ago. Shayna understood this. She had witnessed the ogling looks and appreciative glances that her ex-husband elicited from women of various ages. He had earned it. After all, he worked hard to maintain his physique. He had a body that not many men half his age could lay claim to. Couple that with his full head of thick, wavy, salt-and-pepper hair and his startling sapphire blue eyes and, yes, Shayna knew that he had been attempting to hold on to his final hours of youth by banging a twenty-one-year-old girl.
Knowing it didn’t matter—he still should’ve kept his dick in his pants.
After all, they had both worked hard for twenty-two years. Whether it was the business, Danielle, or their marriage, they had always worked as a team. They had always communicated and respected one another. They had built a warm, wonderful life, layered and textured with incredible memories, or so she had thought. The years ahead were supposed to have been the payoff for all that sweat and labor: years to enjoy together, reaping what they had sown. Instead, he had cast them both adrift to start over, leaving their relationship and their carefully crafted world in the ash heap of history.
Shayna would probably always question how Frank could’ve thought so little of her, so little of what they had built together, to make the choice that he had. That’s what it had been: a choice. Not everybody had that luxury. Sometimes life removed options. After the heartache of the last three years, Shayna had concluded that losing someone accidentally, as devastating as it was, didn’t have quite the same razor’s edge as someone choosing to lose you.
She heard a voice through the fog.
“Shay?”
Her breathing restarted, and she turned to see Sean viewing her quizzically. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
He softly touched her cheek. “Everything okay?” he asked doubtfully.
She looked into his guileless eyes—green like the sea. Sean Parker was a good man. Maybe even worth keeping. Time would tell. However, the last three years, measured against the rest of her life, had taught her something. You never know how much time you have with the people you love, or how your time with them will end—accidentally or intentionally. Either way, she didn’t think about the future nearly as much anymore, choosing instead to focus on each day and each moment. She had come to so enjoy and look forward to her moments with Sean Parker...
“Yes. Everything’s fine. Really.” She scanned the bodies moving on the dance floor. “Do you dance?” she asked without looking at him.
“I’m not too bad. How about you?”
She turned to look at him with a playful expression. “Oh, I’m good...damn good,” she gave him a seductive smile.
He wet his lips before they curved into a challenging, sexy grin. Grasping her hand and pulling her up, he lowered his head so that they were nose to nose. “Well, let’s just see how good you are,” he said huskily, teasing her with an almost-kiss, before pulling away and leading her down to the floor. As they found their space, “The Way You Move” started, punching and reverberating into the air.
Oh, this was one of her favorite dance numbers, oozing a sexy rhythm and lyrics. She closed her eyes and started swaying, allowing the warm, full-bodied texture and waves to wash over and guide her. Feeling a strong arm wrap around her, she opened her eyes to a smiling Sean Parker. Boy, he had a killer smile. He started gliding her fluidly around the floor, sometimes body to body, other times swinging her out and pivoting her skillfully in to him, with her back to his front. Oh, she loved sashaying her curvy backside up against him then.
Those broad hands skimmed sleekly over her acutely receptive body, her back, her stomach, and her thighs, dipping her and trailing scorching kisses along her throat. His incredible hands mastered her, stretching her arms up over her head at one point and then smoothing his grip ever so sensually all the way down to her hips and then clamping her tight against him, his hard thigh pressed up firmly between hers, teasing the building, pointed pressure he most assuredly knew was there. Not too bad my ass, Shayna thought while grinning knowingly up at him. This man knew his way around a dance floor.
Oh, how she hoped that translated to other things.
The jazz players and vocalist wrapped up the set to a round of applause that Shayna quickly realized was for her and Sean. He drew her in even tighter and they laughingly embraced, swaying to their own tempo until the next number began filling the club with its voluptuous resonance.
After dancing awhile longer, Shayna breathed hotly next to his ear. “It’s time to leave, Sean.”
She felt him nod against her and then pull back, looking at her with heavy-lidded, stormy eyes. His hands trailed up from her lower back, smoothing along her shoulders and curving up around her neck to frame her face. He kissed her passionately. A moan escaped her and he probed her mouth more deeply. She craved him, needed them to be naked, soon. She wanted to feel his hands on her bare body, his lips and tongue between her legs, his weight on top of her. She wanted to ride him, hard, feeling all of that unyielding strength and fierce heat beneath her.
Taking her hand, Sean led her out of the jazz club, into the balmy summer evening breeze, and to the lot where they had both parked their cars earlier. As he approached his black Audi, Shayna pulled away.
“I’ll follow you, Sean.” She turned to walk away, but he pulled her back to him.
“Just get in, Shay. We’ll get your car later,” he said gruffly.
She assessed him in the dusky haze of the car lot. Then she deftly hooked her hand at the waist of his black trousers and tugged him commandingly to her. She smiled lustfully at his wanton expression, then skimmed her warm hand inside and down into his briefs, gripping his velvety smooth, already rigid length. She exhaled sharply in appreciation. Oh, he felt hot and thick. She could definitely work with this, couldn’t wait for it to be inside her.
Patience, Shayna. Patience.
His hands gripped her face firmly as he guided them into the shadows while kissing her, hungrily. She stroked him, then reached around to feel and clench the ass she had admired over the months. Oh, yeah. It felt the way it had looked: hard, perfect, just like what she was stroking in her other hand.