Before I could accomplish my goal, Claire forced me onto my back, thrusting her fingers inside, causing me to arch my back completely off the bed and scream, “Yes!”
Claire’s mouth quickly made the trek down my chest, over my stomach, below my belly button, and stilled. Her tongue flicked my clit before moving on to explore my folds, her fingers still hammering in and out.
She sucked my clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue, bringing me closer, before releasing and continuously stroking my bud. She had one thing on her mind: to make me explode, but not quite yet.
My wetness gushed over her hand onto the sheets. Her mouth stayed put. Her fingers continued to probe, and my body responded by coaxing her deeper and deeper inside my vortex, wanting her to be close and completely in control.
I wanted her to control the next several moments. Maybe she sensed this, because her tongue switched from overdrive to lapping my bud sensually. The swell of my orgasm rolled over me without an urge to spill over yet. It was as if time stopped, allowing me to stay in the moment.
I ran my hands through her hair, loving her head between my legs. My insides swirled around her fingers, holding them in place, as if weaving a magic spell, forever connecting us.
Claire locked her eyes on mine, asking with one look. I nodded, and she plunged in so deep I instantly came. Another burst of energy crashed through me, my entire body shuddering.
Several blissful seconds passed before my body and mind stilled. Claire lay on her back next to me, her arm tossed over her face, breathing heavily.
I curled up next to her, my head on her heaving chest. “I can hear your heartbeat.”
She laughed. “I can feel it in my toes.”
I pressed my ear closer. “It’s telling me something.”
“What’s that?” She panted, still spent from her amazing efforts.
I mimed shushing her and concentrated. “It’s saying don’t get too comfortable.”
“JJ, I’m—”
My mouth covered hers, lightly, enjoying the feel of her mouth drenched with my juices. Not urging the kiss to deepen. We had all the time in the world, it seemed in the hotel room, with no children to interrupt, no bosses, no work stress, no Janie. It was only Claire and me, the way it was meant to be.
I hovered over her, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Thank you.”
Claire turned her head, studying me with one eye in the way she did when trying to decide if I was being an ass or not.
I palmed her cheek. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself each day if I didn’t have you and the kids to come home to. It wasn’t until I learned how much I’d been missing that I realized how truly lost I’d been all those years.”
Claire didn’t say anything, but a tear glistened in the corner of her eye.
“You’re like my beacon. You always were, but now you’re reachable.” To emphasize my point, I touched her cheek, running my finger down the side of her face and then resting it on her lips. “I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you.”
“That won’t happen. I won’t let it.”
“You promise?” My voice quivered more than I thought possible, and I held my breath.
“With all my heart.” She entwined her fingers with mine, her engagement ring sparkling. “I’ll never let you go.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following Friday, when I strolled into the break room of MDD, I stopped in my tracks when my eyes landed on Darrell, Avery, and Nicki at a table in the corner. Avery, with a semi-sheepish grin, motioned for me to join them.
Darrell nodded hello as I placed a full cup of coffee on the table and took a seat next to him. “Nicki is educating me. Did you know Oprah was trolled?”
“How so?” I sipped my coffee, curious about how close Avery and Nicki sat together.
“She was tricked into saying ‘over nine thousand penises’ on her show.” Darrell, the grump, smiled.
I choked on my coffee. “What?”
“Nine thousand penises,” Darrell repeated like a schoolboy who didn’t quite get the joke but knew on some level it was hilarious. “It’s a meme!”
I never thought I’d hear that word come out of his mouth.
Nicki laughed and explained, “The over nine thousand meme stems from the Dragon Ball Z show when one of the characters shouts ‘Over nine thousand!’” Nicki got into character—I assumed since I’d never seen the show— shouting this. “People liked it.”
Avery casually leaned away from Nicki.
I slanted my head to the side, trying to connect the dots. “But why did Oprah mention nine thousand penises?”
“This is the best part.” Darrell bumped his elbow into my side and motioned for Nicki to fill me in.
“Back in 2008, Oprah had an episode about internet predators. Afterward, a user commented on Oprah’s message board: ‘We do not forgive, we do not forget; our group has over nine thousand penises, and they are raping children.’ Oprah read this on the show a few days later.”
Darrell shook his head, laughing. “I probably would have done the same. We need someone like you on the staff full-time to save us from humiliation. Social media can be a landmine.”
Nicki met my eyes. “And give up my day job?”
“What’s that?” Darrell asked in all seriousness.
“Write an article here and there, but mostly I do a whole lot of nothing.”
Nothing that can be talked about in the open, I thought.
He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “I tried being unemployed. When I wasn’t spending time with my son, I got so bored I painted JJ’s house.”
“You haven’t finished the trim,” I said.
Darrell rolled his eyes in a playful way. The guy was feeling right at home. “Get Nicki to do it. I have a job to do.” He left the break room and headed back to his broom closet, aka office.
“He’s right. We could use you officially.” I tapped my nails against the side of the coffee cup.
“It’s better to keep me behind the scenes; trust me.”
I didn’t trust anyone, not anymore, except for Claire and my family. Why was Avery cozying up with Nicki? How had Cora found Nicki? Through Avery?
“Like a ghost.” I winked.
“Exactly.” She tossed an arm over the back of her chair, as if daring me—to do or say what, though?
I opted to needle her some. “If that’s the case, why are you here?”
“Taking Avery out for lunch.” There was a scuffle under the table, and I was fairly certain Nicki had attempted to play footsie and received a swift kick to the shin. “But she says she doesn’t have time.”
“Is that right?” I swiveled to Avery. “Why don’t you have time for lunch?”
“Because of a thing called work. I usually eat at my desk. Not all of us have so much free time,” Avery said through gritted teeth.
Fascinated by watching Avery’s unease peel back some, I nodded. We had a stack of paperwork, scheduling snafus for the upcoming show, looming article deadlines, research, and a multitude of other MDD minutiae to power through before the weekend.
“What about dinner?” Nicki’s confidence was clearly dented, but she attempted to remain brazen.
“I’m not sure that would work. JJ and I have so much to get through today I doubt we will leave before dinner.”
Had Claire been right that night? Avery had kicked me out of the office because she was pursuing someone? Was she playing coy to throw me off the scent, or was she truly not interested in Nicki?
“True, but I can’t work late. Plans with Claire.” I kept a vigilant eye to see how this turn played out.
“Great!” Nicki’s enthusiasm was back.
“I still think I should work,” Avery hedged.
“Why don’t the two of you join Claire and me for dinner? She and the kids are in town for a charity event Claire’s paper is sponsoring. Afterward, my parents are on babysitting duty and we
have reservations at the new celebrity-owned—I can’t remember which one—joint everyone is raving about. I plan to write a review for MDD, and it’d be good to get your input, Avery.” I hadn’t planned on writing one. I hadn’t written a review for over ten years, but I knew my assistant wouldn’t fob off dinner under the guise of work.
Plans were quickly arranged, and Nicki tucked tail before anything could derail the dinner date.
On the way back to my office, I said, “She really seems to like you.”
“Nicki is very determined. I’ll give her that.”
“Is it working?”
“Your first interview for Confessions with JJ—”
I groaned, “I hate that title for the show. Can’t we think of a better one? But don’t include the Miracle Girl.”
She steamrolled on, “As I was saying, your first interview has been pushed back. Now we need to prep for the third guest to go first.”
I took a seat at the table in my office. Avery sat on the other side. In the middle was a pile of memoirs with Post-it notes sticking out, news clippings, and other bits of paperwork in addition to our laptops at the ready. “We haven’t started researching the third guest.”
“Exactly. But by all means, let’s write a restaurant review.”
“Not looking forward to our double date, are you?”
“You had no intention of writing a review. Your weekly inspirational article has never been about food,” she countered.
I pretended to wave a white flag.
Her nostrils flared.
I palm-slapped my face. “Oh shit. Can you call the restaurant and amend my reservation to include four?”
She glared, and her heavy breathing made me fear for my life.
***
“You look stunning.” I appraised Claire’s black cocktail dress with lace sleeves, a ruby and diamond choker, and stilettos. I peered up. “And very tall.”
Mom and Dad laughed.
She looked down at me, hand on hip. “What’s the air like in the cheap seats?”
“No idea but the view is fantastic.”
Claire shoved me by the shoulders. “We’re going to be late. Your new outfit is hanging in the bathroom since you forgot to pack one.”
“It better not be a pants suit,” I hollered as I dashed down the hall.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” my mom yelled back. She had gone shopping with Claire and the kids after my SOS text about forgetting a change of clothes for date night.
I found a simple black dress and a ruby jacket with black lace embroidered lapels to match Claire’s outfit.
Pops whistled when I reentered the kitchen.
Mom, Pops, and the kids sat at the kitchen table, getting ready to have spaghetti with homemade meat sauce, Mom’s specialty. Pops had concocted his grilled cheesy garlic bread. I snatched a piece, ravenous after only consuming coffee all day.
Claire eased on her jacket. “Call if you need anything.”
Mom waved her off. “We’ll be fine. Have fun!”
On the way out of my parents’ front door, I overheard Ian ask, “Are we going for pie after dinner?”
Claire laughed, looping her arm through mine, somewhat unsteady on her heels. “He wants to have pie for his birthday this year. Banana cream.”
“Too bad the Marie Callender’s in Denver closed during the Great Recession. I could have been a hero bringing home a different pie each night.” I unlocked the vehicle’s doors.
“I used to love the lemon meringue.” She climbed into the passenger seat.
I got behind the wheel. “There’s been a change of plans. A couple is joining us.”
“Business?”
“That remains to be seen.” I placed my arm on her headrest, looking over my shoulder to back out of my parents’ one-car drive.
Claire quirked an eyebrow, looking sexy as hell.
I applied the brakes and inched closer for a kiss.
She straight-armed me. “Do you know how long it took me to get ready?”
“Such a diva tonight,” I teased.
“Who’s coming to dinner?” She flipped the visor down to ensure the mere thought of kissing hadn’t smudged her ruby lipstick.
“Take a guess.” I didn’t stop completely at a four-way intersection.
“Don’t risk my life because you didn’t leave the office on time.”
“Please. There wasn’t a car in sight. And you still haven’t guessed.” With more care, I pulled onto a busier road.
“Justin Bieber, your first Confessions victim.”
I laughed off the insult. The Biebs had declined our request, much to my relief.
“The Queen of England.”
“Bieber to the queen.” I pursed my lips. “No matter what, I think you’re going to be disappointed.”
***
“Avery! How lovely to see you.” Claire brushed her lips against Avery’s cheek, much to my annoyance. She still hadn’t let me get in one kiss. Next time maybe I shouldn’t be forty-five minutes late.
“Claire, I’d like you to meet Nicki.” I motioned to the Dark Net mole, surprised by how well she cleaned up. Black slacks, powder-blue silk shirt, and shiny pumps. And she had nixed the glasses. Did she wear contacts, or did she think the eyewear made her look more scholarly?
The two exchanged pleasantries.
The hostess led us to our table. The place was a swirling mix of high-class and industrial. The table, set with polished silverware, crisp white linens, and plush high-back chairs, was a stark contrast to the brick walls covered in artsy graffiti and exposed pipes, along with a high aluminum ceiling.
Claire’s roving eye landed on a provocative statue of a naked woman. “Interesting.”
“Shall I arrange for a photographer to come early next week?” Avery asked, clearly still annoyed by my restaurant review ruse.
“By all means. Readers will get a kick out of this place.” Restaurant reviews from contributors all over the world had been a reliable staple on MDD.
Claire and Nicki exchanged a look.
Claire took charge and asked which platters we should order.
I selected the wood oven roasted mussels, Avery the Icelandic cod, and Nicki the smoked pork belly with apple butter. Claire added butternut squash, turnips, and goat cheese.
“Oh, they have funnel cake with cotton candy ice cream for dessert.” Claire was giddy.
“Don’t tell Ian.”
After placing our order, Claire went to work. “How’d you two meet?”
Nicki met my eye briefly, and I gave a slight nod. “I’m a consultant of sorts—internet security.”
Short and to the point.
“Given all the breaches, lately, I imagine you’re in demand.” Claire leaned back for the waiter to splash some chardonnay into her glass. She sipped, nodded approval, and the waiter filled everyone’s glass, including mine.
“Business really picked up after Ashley Madison.”
I tried not to react. Cora still hadn’t come clean publicly, and I wondered if she enjoyed the excitement of playing Russian roulette or if it never happened. She knew better than most how I would jump to protect her from such an invasion in her private life. And that I’d never pry.
Lately, I felt like everyone, even the most trusted, was playing me.
Claire set her wineglass down. “I bet. What’s the biggest mistake most people make?”
“Passwords. Let me see if I can crack yours.” Nicki quizzed Claire about her birthdate, mine, the kids, and childhood pet names. After gleaming information that one could find on most Facebook profiles she said, “ILUTMG93.”
Claire blinked. “You didn’t ask what year I graduated from college.”
“Just an educated guess. I take it from the splotches on your neck I’m right.”
My face burned with betrayal that Claire had used the initials for The Miracle Girl, as part of her password. Even she associ
ated me with the tarnished JJ Cavendish myth. Maybe the text abbreviation for I love you, which Claire included in most messages, should have blunted the blow, but it didn’t.
Avery, probably sensing my mood, steered the conversation away from the internet, Nicki, and me. “How was the charity event, Claire?”
I sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly a couple of times. “Would you excuse me? I need to use the ladies’ room.”
While washing my hands, a thought occurred to me. Nicki was so sure about Claire’s password. Had she been the one who hacked Claire’s e-mail? More worrisome was the possibility Nicki gave Avery the heads-up. Were they in cahoots? If so, for how long?
I rested my hands on the edge of the counter and stared at my reflection in the mirror. What to do? Call out Nicki? Avery? Or continue to keep my suspicions to myself?
The food had arrived during my absence, and I spooned some of the mussels onto my plate. Splitting open one, I held it in my left hand, used a seafood fork to extract the meat, and gulped it in one bite.
Claire, over the password snafu, continued to probe for information. “Where are you from, Nicki?”
“Here and there. I moved around quite a bit when I was young.”
“Army brat?” Claire sampled the pork belly.
“Something like that.”
It was a brilliant way to whitewash her runaway status, although I noticed Claire gave her a second glance as if picking up on the way Nicki’s eyes slyly scanned everyone around us.
“Do you live in Denver?”
Nicki smiled. “My job keeps me on the move.”
She didn’t mention a home base, and I hadn’t been able to ferret out where exactly Nicki spent the majority of her time.
“JJ has always traveled for work,” Claire continued, her voice hinting at some exasperation. Or was she questioning my connection with Nicki?
“Wouldn’t say much for a travel writer if I didn’t. Speaking of, Avery and I are scheduling a week in New York for some publicity promos mid-May. Would you and the kids like to join us? Ian will be out of school by then, won’t he?”
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