After a few moments he asked, “Think you could hop up for a second, soccer mom?”
“Do I have to?”
He took her by the hands and eased her to a sitting position, once more admiring how good her little female body looked wrapped up in their binding of choice. She appeared a bit dazed.
“I want to watch you walk.”
“Walk? Now? I don’t know if I can.”
He laughed. “Just over to the table and back. Can you do that for me?”
He loved the teasing smirk she offered him, her hair falling across her face as she stood to do his bidding. Charlotte’s playful streak was proving to be a hell of a lot of fun.
He stretched out along the edge of the pool and made a half-circular motion with his finger. “Turn around and walk.”
She did so but glanced over her shoulder at him. “And what are you going to do while I’m walking?”
Joe smiled. “Something I should have done thirteen years ago, baby—I’m gonna memorize your license plates.”
Her laugh was the background music to her swaying walk, and as she moved, he watched. Her ass was a thing of majesty, small and round and sporting two big handprints visible in the dim light. She stopped when she reached the table and looked over her shoulder again.
“Well?”
“Hmm. Bend down and look under the tablecloth. Bring me what you find.”
She did as she was told, which in itself was sexy as hell, and revealed that perfect peach between her thighs.
She turned and walked back toward him, holding the can of spray cheese. She looked down on him and crooked one eyebrow. “Let me guess what’s on the menu. A number five with cheese?”
Joe nearly choked laughing.
“Cock con queso?”
He laughed so hard he had to lie down and hold his sides.
Charlotte knelt next to him. The sensation of aerosol cheese clinging to his shaft was close to otherworldly. She topped him off with a festive swirl, and he groaned with pleasure. He decided to hoist himself up on his elbows to watch.
Joe nearly lost it when she straddled his shins and bent toward him. She seemed to enjoy his predicament, licking at him through a devilish smile, her eyes sparkling with the pool lights, her sweet breasts dangling so that her nipples just brushed the surface of his thighs.
He had no idea how much of this he could take—he’d never seen anything so hot in his life.
Then she placed her lips around him and her moan vibrated all the way down into his balls and that was it—one mouthful of squirt cheese was served.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Would you please hold still for one second, Hank?”
Charlotte jammed the safety pin through the elastic strap and poked herself in the finger.
“Ow! Shi—”
“Don’t cuss and don’t get blood on my tutu, Mama.”
“Believe me, I’m trying to avoid both.” Charlotte placed the pad of her index finger on her lips and sucked away the bright red droplet. She reached for the hairbrush, then studied the strand of purple silk flowers that was supposed to adorn a bun at the back of her daughter’s head. She sighed. “Okay. Let’s tackle your hair, kiddo.”
“Mom!” Matt’s voice boomed up the stairs.
“What?”
“Can Justin come to the recital?”
“Is that all right with you, sweetie?”
“I don’t care.” Hank shrugged. “He comes everywhere else with us.”
“Sure!” Charlotte shouted back, tugging the hairbrush through Hank’s tangle of curls. She knew from experience that getting all this hair into one little bun was going to be an engineering feat. “Hand me a few more bobby pins, honey.”
“Hey! Don’t pull it too tight or my brains will hurt.”
Charlotte smiled, then looked up long enough to see the two of them reflected in Hank’s dresser mirror. “You’re going to do great today.”
“Everybody ready?”
The sound of Joe’s voice caused Charlotte to freeze. Her heart jumped into her mouth. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and three things occurred to her simultaneously: she was still in her bathrobe, she’d forgotten to un-invite him to the recital today, and she wasn’t wearing his ring.
She’d tucked it away in her jewelry box when she got home late last night, after Bonnie nearly fainted at the sight of it and she had to explain that she was merely thinking about marrying him. Someday.
“It’s Joe!” Hank bolted the instant he appeared in the hallway, and all the hair Charlotte had just twirled into a tight ball burst free. As Hank hurled herself against Joe and he hoisted her up into the air and hugged her, Charlotte noticed a huge run in Hank’s ballet tights and knew she didn’t have a spare pair.
She chuckled to herself—she’d never been without extra tights on recital day, so it must be that falling in love had her falling down on the job.
“Don’t you look gorgeous!” Joe leaned back to inspect Hank’s lavender spandex costume, touching the poof of stiff white netting around her hips. He kissed Hank’s cheek. “You’re gonna knock ‘em dead, slugger.”
The look on Hank’s face was a balm to Charlotte’s frayed nerves. Her daughter beamed at Joe, and the way Joe beamed back, it was obvious the affection was mutual.
LoriSue stared at the phone message in shock. Her bid on the end-unit townhome at The Lakes had been rejected—rejected—when she’d offered two thousand over the asking price and knew damn well there were no competing bidders.
She smelled something extremely foul. She smelled Jimmy.
With a blunt index finger—she still hadn’t gotten used to these bland, stumpy fingernails, but she had to admit they were less hassle—she held down the intercom button.
“Ruth, where the hell is Jimmy?”
“Hold on. I’ll check.” She heard the office administrator click at the computer keys. “He’s got three hours blocked out this morning to show the executive relo over on River Rock. Want me to page him?”
Three hours for one showing? “No. Thanks.”
LoriSue tapped her stubby fingernails on the desktop. Would Jimmy sabotage her bid simply out of spite? Wasn’t he satisfied that she was giving him possession of the house? What in God’s name was that man’s problem?
She grabbed her purse and cell phone, hit the speed dial for her divorce attorney’s home number, and zipped down the hallway and out the door. She was headed for the vacant house on River Rock, where she planned to have it out with Jimmy, once and for all.
LoriSue was so focused on her mission that she nearly flattened two dark-haired men in expensive suits standing on the sidewalk. She ignored it when one of them whistled at her, and the other said something offensive that she didn’t fully catch, because it was in a combination of English and a foreign language.
It sounded like Spanish.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Joe’s eyes traveled to where Charlotte stood by the bureau, his smile widening. He put Hank down. “How long before we need to leave?”
“Twenty-two minutes,” Charlotte said, motioning for Hank to come back so she could redo her hair. “Hold still for a second, would you, please?”
“Am I dressed all right?” Joe patted his slacks nervously. “I’ve never been to a ballet recital before.”
Charlotte had to laugh. Joe looked more than all right in a pair of gray linen slacks and a black polo shirt—he looked good enough to devour on the spot. She returned to the task at hand, pinning the flowers down over Hank’s bun and applying a thick coat of hair spray. Hank coughed dramatically.
“There you go. Perfect.”
The phone rang. Charlotte had to sprint by Joe to get to it and she felt his hand pat her robe-encased hip as she passed.
When she hung up a moment later, Joe was leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb of her bedroom, grinning.
“That was Bonnie—they’re running late and will meet us at the auditorium.”
Joe nodded
and looked around the bedroom.
This was so awkward—Joe was in the room she’d shared with Kurt. And she realized that there was so much unresolved between the two of them that she hardly knew where to begin. She loved him. He was too dangerous to be in her house, near her kids, in her life. Her head spun.
“So. This is where it all happens, eh?”
Charlotte laughed. “Where what happens?”
“Where all those poems get created.”
“Oh.” Charlotte heard Hank clunk down the steps and looked at her alarm clock. “I need to get ready.”
Joe straightened. “Sure. How about I do a little light reading while you dress?”
Charlotte pulled the lapels of her bathrobe tight across her chest. “You want to read them?”
“You betcha, dumplin’.”
Charlotte tried to act calm, but she was beginning to sweat. “Now?”
“Why not?”
“It’s just—”
“It’s okay, Charlotte. You don’t have to.”
He was disappointed, clearly. Hadn’t he told her he loved her sexuality, loved how hot she was? He wouldn’t have the same reaction Kurt did—it was impossible. So why was she making such a big deal about this?
“All right, Joe.”
Charlotte walked to the bedside table, removed the key from under the lamp, and unlocked the drawer. She handed him the book. “Please put it back if you hear one of the kids come upstairs.”
Joe accepted the clothbound journal and leaned down to kiss her gently. “I will. And thank you.”
LoriSue had always loved this area just outside Minton and had made more than a few profitable sales in the exclusive River Rock neighborhood. That’s why it surprised her that this particular corporate relocation hadn’t sold after two months on the market. Sell-More had four months left on the contract, and with fall and winter on the way, they really needed to move it.
She pulled into the circular gravel driveway and saw two cars parked outside—Jimmy’s phallic insecurity blanket of an SUV and a little beat-up Nissan with Kentucky plates. With a sigh, LoriSue figured her husband was inside giving the grand tour of the inside of his pants and not the roomy walk-in closets.
As she inserted her key into the padlock on the front door, the strangest sense of dread hit her. It started as an eerie skittering over her skin and ended with a thud deep in her chest. She looked behind her—it was a reflex—and saw nothing but the minimally maintained yard, the drive, and an empty road beyond. But she swore she felt someone’s eyes on her.
LoriSue shook it off, figuring it was simply the disgust she felt at finally catching Jimmy in the act. She removed the digital camera from her purse and clicked on the power.
Two could play this game.
Joe was amazed. He suddenly felt a little pang of sympathy for Kurt Tasker—because Charlotte’s poetry was hotter than hell, so hot that he was feeling a bit uncomfortable himself.
She’d dated each poem, and they started four years ago. He wondered if there were earlier journals anywhere. He wondered if he could read those, too.
He had a few favorites, but the poem titled “Slut” just about did him in. The one where she worried that he would hurt her felt like a knife to his gut.
Joe barely got the drawer closed and locked before Justin and Matt clomped up the stairs and arrived breathless in the bedroom.
Matt looked around furtively, then whispered, “Did you get them?”
“Get what?” He hoped the boys didn’t think anything was odd about him being in Charlotte’s bedroom, standing in front of her nightstand.
Matt looked toward his mother’s closed bathroom door and walked close to Joe. The pictures, he mouthed silently.
Hell—he’d forgotten to pick up Matt’s pictures! He knew he’d forgotten something!
Joe sighed. “They’re going to have to wait until after the recital. Look, I’m sorry. I just forgot, Matt.”
“Forgot?” Justin’s eyes went wide. “Man, we really wanted Chief Preston to look at those pictures! We found these two spies in town the other day, Joe—two creepy-looking guys hanging around for no reason. We’d never seen them before!”
Joe smiled, remembering being this age, when adventure and danger were the mainstays of his imagination. Then he got a load of Matt’s expression and stopped smiling. The kid was devastated.
“You promised me” was all Matt said.
Joe looked at Charlotte’s clock. He’d be cutting it close, but failing to follow through on the first promise he’d ever made to Matt was no way to start this relationship. It would be hard enough easing into Matt’s life with a clean record.
“Okay. I’ll get them.”
Both boys exhaled in relief.
“Please tell your mother I’ll be back in ten minutes, tops. Okay?”
“Sure, Joe!” Matt’s smile took over his whole face. “No problem.”
Joe was glad he’d left the film at the drugstore at the intersection of Hayden Circle and the state highway—it took him three minutes to get there. He ran into the store and took his place in line at the photo counter, cursing the other two people ahead of him, repeatedly checking his watch.
Finally, it was his turn. He handed three small tear-off receipts to the teenage clerk and had already pulled money from his wallet when the kid returned with a clipboard.
“We got a problem,” he said.
Joe closed his eyes for an instant, then said as calmly as possible, “What kind of problem?”
“Your negatives were part of a group that was damaged when the machine went haywire the other night. You have to sign for the damaged prints.” He held out the clipboard and pen.
“Damaged? How?”
The kid opened an envelope and flipped through a stack to reveal a bright yellow streak that cut through the center of each print. “You need to examine your prints and sign this waiver that you accept them in their damaged condition and don’t plan any legal action against the store.”
“Legal action? Jesus-tap-dancing-Christ! Here—just take my money and give me the pictures, okay? I’m in a hurry.”
The kid looked hurt. “There’s no charge, sir, and it’s store policy and I’ll lose my job if—”
“Okay, okay. I’ll examine them for crying out loud. Hand ‘em over.”
Charlotte nearly tripped in her attempt to put on her left sandal and her right earring at the same time, and she stumbled into her bedroom expecting to see Joe but seeing the boys instead. “Where’s Joe?”
Justin and Matt looked at each other; then Matt said, “Not sure, exactly. He mentioned that he had to run an errand and that he’d be back in ten minutes.”
An errand? She looked at the clock. Now? But they had to leave now!
Then it hit her—Joe had read a few of the poems and bolted. Charlotte finished buckling the strap of her sandal and took just a moment to focus on breathing, because it almost felt as if she was going to black out.
Wait. She was being ridiculous—of course she was. Joe hadn’t been scared away by her poems. Sure, some were a bit earthy, she realized, but Joe liked earthy, didn’t he? Joe loved earthy.
Didn’t he?
“Oh God,” she sighed, ushering the boys out of her bedroom. “Go wait for me downstairs. Make sure Hank is ready.”
Charlotte checked under the lamp—yes, the key was back in its place. She unlocked her nightstand drawer—yes, the journal had been returned.
She grabbed her purse, and as she raced down the steps she told herself that it was for the best that she’d scared him away. Then she whispered, “Please come back, Joe.”
The moment her feet hit the foyer floor, she heard the kids shouting, “Hoover just ran out of the yard!”
LoriSue’s digital camera silently took photo after photo of Jimmy—well, Jimmy’s flaccid white rump, anyway—flailing away at some girly with a dragon tattooed on her inner thigh.
He’d obviously been using the vacant house as his hose pal
ace and, vintage Jimmy here, had spared no expense in setting the scene for seduction—a bare inflatable mattress lay on the floor, next to a little battery-operated lamp.
No wonder the house hadn’t sold. She bet Jimmy, as the listing agent, had been turning away potential buyers in droves so he could keep his little hideaway.
LoriSue cleared her throat, and the next shot she got was a keeper—Jimmy disengaging himself in a panic, his eyes wide in horror. Too bad the Little League Web site had gone live three days earlier, or she could have used this picture on the home page instead of the one of Joe Mills doing concession stand duty.
Oh, well—Joe was far better looking, even in a barbecue apron.
“It’s not what it looks like, babe.”
LoriSue howled with laughter at her husband’s comment. And as the naked chickie screamed and lunged for her clothing, LoriSue noted the array of condom wrappers flung all over the Berber carpet. At least Jimmy wasn’t completely stupid, and for that she was grateful.
“So how did you do it, Jimmy?”
He tried to divide his attention between the girl, now running past LoriSue into the hallway, and his wife but couldn’t quite manage it. “Do whaaa?”
“Block my bid on the townhome, you needle dick.”
“Hey!” He held out his hands, palms out and fingers spread in surrender. “We can talk about this, LoriSue.”
She bent down and grabbed his briefs, khakis, shoes, socks, and dress shirt, wadded them up in a ball, and held them behind her back. She promised herself it would be the last time she ever picked up the man’s dirty clothes, so help her God.
“So talk. What did you do, advise the sellers to hold out for a higher bid? Bid higher yourself?”
“Uh…” Jimmy dropped his head in his hands. “I just didn’t want you and Justin to leave.”
For a second, LoriSue was speechless. Then she snapped out of it. “Cut the crap.”