by Lilly Hale
Trey lifted an eyebrow, giving her a wicked look. “I can think of one thing you’ve left out.”
Elise laughed then wiggled provocatively between their hard bodies. “Oh, yeah, how could I forget about the smokin’ hot sex? You know, I can still hardly believe that little old me gets to have two such gorgeous stud muffins all to myself.”
“Stud muffins?” Rad looked at Trey. “That’s good, right? Like beefcake?”
“Very good,” Elise replied in a sultry tone. “I’m talking panty-creamin’ good.” Then she grew more serious. “You both have so much to offer, you could have any woman you want. I still don’t understand how you can be content sharing one. I feel kind of guilty, like I’m getting the better deal here.”
Rad smiled and slid his hand up her body to caress her breast. “Darlin’, how can you look at this in the mirror every day and still wonder why we both want you?”
Elise pretended a gasp of outrage. “So you’re just after my body?”
“To be honest, it started out that way with Elizabeth,” Rad admitted. “She was a bitch, but so damn beautiful I was willing to overlook all the character flaws to have her.”
Trey made a noise of agreement. “I thought we could change her; that if we made her happy enough, she’d mellow with time.” He shook his head and gave a short laugh. “We were so young and stupid. Honestly, I don’t think either one of us really truly loved her, who she really was. We loved the shell she was packaged in, and that’s not the kind of love that lasts. People grow old, beauty fades.”
“So will you still love me when I’m a wrinkly old lady?”
“Elise, I’d have fallen in love with you,” Trey pressed his hand lightly to her chest, “the you that’s inside this shell, no matter what you looked like on the outside.”
“Mm, he’s right,” Rad agreed with a crooked grin. “But I am glad you’re not a horse-faced hag.” He ducked as she swatted at him, then laughed. “Seriously, Elise, I look forward to growing old and wrinkly right along with you. I look forward to having babies together, and someday grandbabies. And when we’re too old to do anything but sit in our rockers and remember the old days, we can smile and reminisce about how we used to fuck you silly on the dining room table.” Elise gasped and swatted at him again.
Trey laughed and added. “And bump nasties in the parlor.”
“And play hide the salami in the coach,” Rad finished then grabbed her wrists as she laughed and nuzzled his face against her neck. “Enough swats, woman, or there’ll be no more salami for you tonight.”
As the laughter turned to sighs, then to quiet murmurs of love, Elise spared a thought for the woman who’d shared this body with her. Elizabeth was not a nice person, but she was as much a victim of fate as Elise had been. Elise hoped perhaps Elizabeth found peace in her new life in the twenty-first century and that peace would make her a better person. Snuggled safely within the warm embrace of her husbands, Elise once again sent a silent prayer of thanks to God or destiny, whoever or whatever gave her this life and these two precious loves.
Epilogue
"Veronica, will you please turn down the television long enough to listen to me?" Margaret Davis stood in the doorway of her daughter's room, hands planted on her hips, her voice shrill with frustration.
From the mound of satin pillows piled behind her back, Veronica glared at her like a queen from her throne. "What is it now? I’m watchin’ the shoppin’ network. And where is that frozen cream I asked for over an hour ago?" she whined in a syrupy southern drawl that she'd must have picked up in the years she’d wasted living in Savannah. It grated on Margaret's nerves. She was certain Veronica only persisted with her hillbilly dialect because she knew how much Margaret disliked it.
"We're all out of ice cream," Margaret ground out. "Besides, it's making you fat. You've put on at least ten pounds in the past month. It's time you got yourself out of bed and away from that T.V."
While Veronica pulled her mouth into an exaggerated pout, Margaret snatched up the remote and turned off the television. "Now, hurry up, and let's get you presentable. You have company downstairs."
"Tell them I have a sick headache. I don't want to see anyone," Veronica huffed.
"Oh, you'll want to see this man, I assure you."
Veronica's eyes lit with mild interest. "Man?"
Margaret sat on the edge of the bed and smiled eagerly. "Yes, darling. It's Bruce! He's come all the way from Savannah to see you!"
"Bruce?"
Margaret watched her daughter's brow wrinkle in confusion and quickly added, "Of course, Veronica, Bruce! I know you've been having trouble with your memory since the accident, but surely you remember Bruce. He was your fiancé, dear. Your wedding didn't go as planned, but I think that's why he's here. I think he wants to make it up to you. He wants you back, darling, I'm sure of it."
As her daughter digested the information, Margaret held her breath in anticipation. Please, dear God, let her take him back! Anything, anything to get her out of our house!
Her wish to have her daughter back home had come true, with a vengeance. Veronica was making their life a living hell; constant demands, endless pouting and temper tantrums if those demands weren't met. This little witch who ordered her about, day after grueling day, was not the daughter she'd raised. Margaret suffered a brief pang of guilt for having such a deep dislike for her own child, and she reminded herself that it was the accident that changed her Veronica from a pleasant, if a bit stubborn, young woman into the sadistic shrew that lounged before her now.
But salvation had arrived, at last. Bruce was back and Margaret planned to make sure that when he returned to Savannah, he'd not be alone. Her voice took on a sugary, coaxing tone. "I know you were upset with him before the accident, dear. But he's standing downstairs right now looking so repentant. He knows he made a mistake. I think you should at least speak with him, don't you?"
"I don't know, Mama..." Veronica's eyes took on a calculating gleam. "I have no recollection of this gentleman at all. Is he handsome?"
"Oh, yes, very handsome indeed."
Veronica's head tilted and she gave her mother a sidelong glance as she purred, "Is he rich?"
Margaret descended the stairs a few moments later. Her gaze fell on Bruce, still standing in the foyer, his wet trench coat clutched nervously against his side. He did indeed appear pitifully contrite.
Poor man. Margaret brushed the thought aside as she met his questioning look with a smile and said sweetly, "She'll be right down, Bruce. I have this feeling that things are going to work out for the two of you after all, and I can't tell you how happy that makes me."
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Lilly Hale is just a quiet, small town girl who writes sexy books. She lives in the Midwest with her husband, children and a couple of spoiled cats. Besides writing, she is a voracious reader, loves gardening, cooking and good wine. She’s also addicted to the video game, Dance Central, and refuses to feel guilty about it because it’s a good workout.
Lilly loves to hear from her readers.
E-mail: [email protected]
Blog: http://lillyhale.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Lilly-Hale-Books/116745241748914
Twitter: @lillyhale1