by M. S. Parker
Rescued by the Woodsman
M. S. Parker
Belmonte Publishing, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Bonus: The Billionaire’s Mistress
Preview Sex Coach
Also by M. S. Parker
About the Author
Acknowledgments
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1
If there was one thing my family knew how to do, it was throw a party.
Actually, there were a lot of things my family knew how to do…throw a party for a small gathering of two hundred, run a non-profit, rub elbows with the rich and famous, and elegantly ask for a check for five hundred grand to help fund the arts, or perhaps alleviate the suffering in the Sudan.
All while sipping champagne and nibbling on canapes that looked more like tiny works of art than something edible.
I shouldn’t have sounded so cynical – this was my party, after all. No less than three or four dozen people had come up to greet me, hugging me tightly or shaking my hand as they said, “Congratulations, Stella…so what’s next for the youngest Best?”
Stella Best, that was me.
And what was next?
I had no idea.
Normally at those times, one of my sisters or my longtime boyfriend, Aaron, would speak up to fill the void, but my sisters were off playing hostess along with my mother and father. Aaron was still on his way here. He was late, but we’d forgive him that. After all, he was coming across the country to attend my party.
Flattering, right?
I mean…it should’ve been.
Yet, I wasn’t overjoyed at the thought of seeing him, and when people asked about him, I had to force a smile to come off as enthusiastic as I replied something along the lines of, “Oh, he’s on his way…I can’t wait to see him. It’s been too long.”
Aaron lived in Denver while I’d been going to college in Michigan and spending my breaks back here at home in New York City. We met up over holidays or for long weekends, but ever since he’d taken the job in Denver, our relationship had become…tricky, at best.
I told myself it was the stress of trying to keep the love alive over the miles, but it was getting to the point that I didn’t quite believe it.
“Honey, I’m so proud of you,” a familiar voice said from my elbow.
I turned, and with a real smile, threw my arms around the diminutive frame of the woman at my side. “Aunt Millie!” Millicent Royce was my mother’s great-aunt, a great dame of sorts among New York society, and she’d been thumbing her nose at conventional thinking since before it was cool to do so.
She was, in short, my idol.
Standing five-four in a pair of three-inch heels she wore despite being eighty-four years old, the woman was nothing short of an icon in my eyes. Born in the early part of the Great Depression, she told me stories of how her brother had gone off to fight in World War II, and even though her toes had been cramped and twisted inside her worn-out shoes, her brother had been over in Germany in a pair of boots that had long since worn through, so her mother had sent Millie’s shoe ration ticket off to her brother. It was insane to think about, shoes being rationed. It was even more insane when I thought about it happening to Aunt Millie because the woman now owned over a hundred pair in various styles.
She told me stories about living in the fifties, a time where she worked in a typing pool and had watched, with awe, the beginning of the Civil Rights Movement, and how she’d felt drawn to get involved herself. She’d ended up jailed, more than once, and had almost gotten disowned by her father. But in the end, her mother had put her foot down.
Aunt Millie was everything strong and brave in my eyes. As she wrapped her arms around my neck, I hugged her back and breathed in the scent of perfume – Chanel No. 5. She wore nothing else.
“I’m so proud of you.” She pulled back, beaming at me. But the bright light faded more and more as she studied my face. “You don’t look quite as pleased with yourself as I would have thought. Graduating with honors, a dual major. What’s the matter, love? Why aren’t you walking on the moon?”
“Oh, I’m happy,” I told her with a small smile. And I was. Mostly. But Aunt Millie made it possible to be open about things I wasn’t always open about. “I’m just…I don’t know. I’m feeling at loose ends, I guess. Out of sorts. I’ve had my plate full for so long and now, I’m…done.”
“You’re far from done.” She tapped my chin. “You’re just getting started.”
“Hello, my lovelies…”
A low, warm voice came from behind us, and I spun around to find Aaron standing just a couple feet away.
“Aaron!” I hugged him, but felt uneasy that I was less happy to see him than I was to see my aunt – and I’d seen her two weeks ago. I hadn’t seen Aaron in a little over a month. “Did you just get here?”
“Yes.” He dropped a quick kiss on my cheek. “I saw your parents as I was making my way over here and said hello, of course, but I haven’t been here more than ten minutes. Aunt Millie…”
“You can call me Millicent,” she said, although her voice was warm, almost friendly.
Still, it was a reminder of something I realized some time back. Aunt Millie didn’t like Aaron. Millie was for friends and family. She didn’t see him as either.
“Of course.” He took her hand, and I had the feeling he was about to bend over and kiss it, but she gave him a quick squeeze and pump before turning back to me.
“I’ll let you have a few minutes with your beaux,” she said, smiling as she cupped my face with both hands. She drew me in for a Chanel-scented hug. “Find your happy, darling.”
* * *
Those words were still haunting me a little while later as Aaron and I spoke with my parents.
“It took some doing, shuffling my workload, but I wouldn’t have missed Stella’s party for anything,” Aaron was saying.
It was the third time I’d heard the story.
“If the red-eye hadn’t been overbooked, I would have already been here, but since I had to get my ticket last minute, I wasn’t able to get in business class that first flight.” He paused, then added with a mock shudder, “And you know how deplorable t
he main cabin is.”
“Of course.” My father nodded, clearly appreciating the sacrifice Aaron had made to come to my party.
I wanted to yawn.
I also wanted to point out that flying in the main cabin should be an easy enough thing if he’d wanted to actually make it out to see me on time, but I didn’t. I couldn’t explain why I felt so out of sorts, but I wasn’t going to take it out on him.
“Darling…”
Turning my face up to Aaron’s, I smiled, hoping I was hiding my apathy well enough. “Yes?”
“I have a surprise for you.” He gestured to my parents. “I was hoping to make the announcement to all of your family, but your sisters are such excellent hostesses we’ll never get anybody in one place.” He gave me a wide grin. “My boss has agreed to give you a job at my company. It’s an entry-level position in my department, but that’s where everybody starts out.”
I blinked, not quite comprehending.
I hadn’t even started looking for a job yet, hadn’t figured out where or how I wanted to put my marketing degree to work. I’d been thinking about finding a non-profit or something like that, and not just because eventually, my parents would want me to come on board with the family business. I wanted to help people, not just make money. I had enough of that.
Everybody was staring at me. “Does this mean…” I glanced around, then back at Aaron. “You’d be like…my boss?”
“Yes.” He chucked me under the chin as if I were five. “But don’t think that means you can slack off. I know what you’re capable of.” As he spoke, he reached into the interior pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small box. “And one more thing…”
Dread settled over my shoulders like a wet cloak, and all the air left my lungs.
No. No, no, no.
He wasn’t…
“Don’t worry.” He flashed his grin at me. “It’s not a ring. Yet.”
I nearly sagged to the floor in relief when he flipped it open to display a key, polished to a high shine. “A key to your new home. Have I told you about my new apartment? I’m renovating it so you’ll have your own office space. My office is a little bigger, of course, but it’s hard trying to find the perfect space in a city like Denver, and this is probably just temporary. We’ll look for a house soon…”
As he continued to speak, blood roared in my ears. Aaron tucked away his ‘gift.’ A key that was a copy of the one he’d already given me when he took me to the new apartment just a month ago. This ‘gift’ was all for show.
I gritted my teeth. He’d offhandedly mentioned that the second walk-in closet in the bedroom was actually ideal for a small home office, with just a few minor adjustments. I bet that was my new office.
“A new job already,” Mom said, resting her hands on my shoulders.
Her touch tugged me out of the daze, and I managed a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, great news, huh?”
“You still look shell-shocked. Of course, Denver is very far away.” She pressed her lips together, looked a little teary for a moment. “Oh, my baby is growing up.”
“Mom,” I said weakly. “Come on.”
* * *
“Come on, baby…that’s it…” Aaron panted above me, his hips pistoning against mine, our flesh slapping together. “I’m gonna come soon…are you there?”
I tugged his face to mine, wanting desperately not to answer that. “Come here,” I said instead.
He ignored me, working a hand between us where he proceeded to mash his fingers against my clitoris like it responded to the amount of pressure. I gasped, although not entirely out of pleasure. He didn’t notice, but when I covered his hand with mine, he laughed shakily. “That’s it…I love it when you play with yourself. It’s even better than when I do it.”
It figured–
I cut the thought off and concentrated on the feel of my fingers slipping around those sensitive nerves. Aaron kissed me, and I sighed into his mouth. I did like kissing him, and with his weight pressing me into the bed while my fingers worked my clitoris, my pleasure seemed to ignite and catch up to his.
“That’s it, baby,” he muttered against my mouth. “I’m gonna…yeah…”
I tuned him out, focusing on the gathering tension between my thighs as a cry slipped out of me.
Aaron shifted and moved higher, hips driving against mine harder and faster.
Not yet, not yet…
“I’m going to come, Stella…”
Finally, I felt the tightening begin in my belly, and I gasped, arching up into him, moving against my hand and him.
Just as he climaxed, I came too. I was still in the middle of it when he dropped down on top of me. He grunted and rubbed against me a couple of times, and as soon as the tremors faded, he rolled off. “That was good. Missed you, Stell.”
He pulled me against him, and it wasn’t more than five minutes before he was asleep.
Me, I just laid there, still wet from him and myself, staring into the darkness.
Find your happy, Aunt Millie had said.
I eased away from Aaron and slid from the bed, grabbing my nightshirt on my way from the bedroom. In the bathroom, I closed the door before turning on the lights. I had to squint as my eyes adjusted, but I stood in the mirror and stared at my reflection.
How was I supposed to find my happy…whatever that meant?
I’d graduated. I had a good boyfriend. Now, apparently, I had a job – which I’d be starting in two weeks. Aaron had informed me of that bit of information on the way to my apartment. At twenty-two years old, was there something more that I was supposed to have or be doing?
Was I missing something?
I had absolutely no idea.
But if this was what life was supposed to be about…then I didn’t know, but surely there was something more.
2
Six days later, I was wishing for a do-over of the entire week.
Maybe even longer.
I was supposed to have had two weeks to get things in order, plus have a little bit of time to spend with my family, but on Wednesday, my new employer had called me out of the blue and asked if I’d be available to start on Monday.
Now, instead of doing some shopping with friends or maybe going to one more show on Broadway with Aunt Millie, I was in an airplane hurtling toward Denver.
The clouds were thick.
We’d left behind blue skies and sunlight in New York, but about halfway through the flight, the clouds had started to appear, first white and puffy, then thicker and darker, ominously so.
The pilot had mentioned some rough weather ahead, but this was a little more than I’d expected.
A sudden jolt, followed by a cry, jerked me from my perusal of the clouds, and I looked back into the main cabin where the noise had come from. I saw nothing but the curtain. A few seconds later, the curtain was hurriedly pushed back as one of the flight attendants came through. The plane shuddered and bucked, and I gasped, grabbing for the armrests and holding on, like that would do any good.
“Somebody back there got hurt…bleeding…” someone said.
That had me jerking my head up, and I saw the man in the seat across from mine looking back. He sighed and lifted a hand to flag the airline attendant down, but she had her back to him, so he just undid his seatbelt. He caught my eye, and I said, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I’m a doctor. Supposed to be heading to my son’s wedding then out to Hawaii for some R&R.” He shrugged deprecatingly. “I’ll be careful, but I want to check on that injured passenger.”
I’ll be careful, I thought. Famous last words.
My grim thoughts might have been a harbinger. I kept glancing behind me, macabrely fascinated by the hustle going on in the main cabin. The flight attendant had hung up the phone and hurried back into the main cabin not even a minute after the good doctor had headed back there and I’d watched, wishing I could hear.
A woman rose to get something from an overhead compartment, blocking
my view of what was going on, and another attendant approached her, gestured toward the seat, and I heard enough to know that the pilot wanted everybody buckled up. There was no way I was leaving my seat. The plane bucked again, and I had some miserable image of the damn thing bucking and kicking like a rodeo horse or something equally fierce.
The pilot came on the overhead speaker, and over the pounding in my ears, I heard his low, garbled voice. His words were cut off halfway through by another shuddering jolt that rocked the cabin of the plane – then there was a crashing noise behind us.
A few more voices rose, followed by swears and a woman sobbing.
Slowly, I looked back and saw the door to the overhead bin was open – and everything in it had come tumbling out.
A man in a seat right below it sat with his head in his hands, a thin trickle of blood running from his temple.
The good doctor, I believed, was going to be busy.
* * *
I was in Cheyenne.
My head was killing me, and I didn’t think all of it was from stress, although the flight from hell definitely hadn’t helped.
Granted, my headache wasn’t anything compared to the guy who’d gotten whacked with a wooden cane earlier. While the airline attendants wouldn’t say what actually happened, the passengers were speculating quite a bit. One of the women I’d spoken with while emergency medical personnel boarded to get the two injured passengers off first said she imagined the passenger who’d gotten into the overhead bin hadn’t closed it well.