Look Don’t Touch

  "This is the wonderful man I've been telling you about," she said cheerily. "Nash Archer, this is Glynna, Sheryl and Max—short for Maxine."

  "How do you do?" I said with a polite nod. "I understand you have come up with something that will transform the world of outdoor sports." My phrase caught their attention.

  "That would make a great catch phrase for our company," Glynna, a tall red head who was wearing a gray t-shirt with a small logo that read Animal Justice on the sleeve, said.

  "Do you like outdoor sports, Mr. Archer?" Sheryl pushed her thick green framed glasses higher on her nose.

  "Please, call me Nash. I love mountain biking. I've done a little downhill racing. And more than my share of downhill falling." They laughed. "However, I can think of numerous ways a lightweight metal alloy could make life easier for the outdoor adventurer. Backpacking with a tent that weighs no more than a bag of marshmallows, and one that would withstand a blustery storm at the peak or ward off a bear in search of real marshmallows." I earned another round of laughter. For the first time that night, even the first time in a month, I felt as if I was getting my stride back. And strangely enough, having Shay right there at my side was helping me regain it. "The marketing options are endless." I pulled out my card. "If you're interested in an investor to help you get the company moving, please give me a call. Come up with the numbers you all are comfortable with and let me know."

  Sheryl took the card from my hand. "Thank you. We'll certainly keep you in mind."

  It wasn't the enthusiastic response I'd hoped for, but at least I'd put my foot in the door. It was entirely possible that Morris Grant had already secured an investors meeting with them.

  "It was great meeting you all, but Shay and I are about to head out. Enjoy the rest of the party."

  We said our good-byes, and Shay and I made our way through the party guests.

  Shay sighed. "I'm glad we're leaving. My feet are killing me, and I can't make another minute of small talk with people."

  "Couldn't agree more."

  We stepped through the massive front doors and out into the warm fall night. A dry wind had kicked up signaling the arrival of another band of unseasonably hot temperatures.

  "Wait, I've got to take these off," Shay said. Without thinking, she stuck her hand out to rest it against my shoulder but she caught herself and took a few stumbling steps. She moved her hand to the white marble column of the portico and leaned against it as she pulled off her shoes. "I can't take another step in these torture devices. Especially not on a downhill hike to the car."

  The high heels dangled from her fingers as we walked down the steps to the driveway leading out of the estate. "I think your impromptu meeting with those entrepreneurs went really well," Shay said as she tiptoed along the cement.

  "If I could, I'd give you a piggy back ride to the car. I could walk down and get it."

  "No, I'm fine. I can walk very lightly when I put my mind to it."

  "Guess that ballet training comes in handy. Yes, they seemed like three really together women. I'd love to work with them, but something tells me my ex-boss has already snagged them. Rob told me Grant had been talking to them for a long time."

  "Yes, but I think a little birdie might have put a bug in their ear that might just turn them off of a connection with your old boss."

  I glanced over at her. She swung her heels triumphantly back and forth, and the slyest little grin turned up the corner of her mouth. "After you pointed out Morris Grant to me, I later ended up next to him at the buffet table. You were right, by the way, posh people eat gross food. Anyhow, I overheard him talking to another man, a guy with plush gray sideburns and a belly big enough for a Santa suit. They were both swapping brag stories about their trophy hunting experiences in Africa. Did you know your ex-boss was a big game hunter?"

  "Yeah. You should see his house. It's decorated with his prizes."

  "Creep. Well, when I was talking to the Harvard women, I noticed one of them was wearing a shirt with the Animal Justice logo. That's a very hard core animal rights group. In the midst of our conversation, Morris Grant walked by and smiled politely. They naturally started talking about the meeting they had with him the following Monday. So I piped up and mentioned how much I disliked the man because he was a trophy hunter who recently killed a lion in Africa. I can tell you the looks on their faces changed completely."

  We walked past the line of cars on the driveway. A breeze ruffled the loosened leaves on the jacaranda trees, and they rained down over the expensive cars.

  "You know something, Shay. If it wouldn't cost me a million dollars, I'd grab you right now and kiss you."

  "I can think of a nice way for you to repay me since we have to forgo the kiss."

  "Anything." We passed through the gates and turned onto the sidewalk.

  "Ice cream. I have to wash the taste of disgusting caviar out of my mouth."

  "Deal."

  19

  We talked and laughed the entire way to the mini-mart off Pacific Coast Highway. I couldn't remember ever finding it so damn easy to talk to someone. Shay might not have grown up with much, but her life experiences had made her far more astute and sophisticated than most people I met in wealthy circles.

  I parked in front of the market.

  "I don't want to put these shoes on again." Shay nudged the high heels with her bare toe.

  "I'll run in. What kind of ice cream do you want?"

  "Any kind. I'm not picky."

  I grabbed the door handle.

  "But make sure it's chocolate."

  "Right." I lowered my foot to the asphalt.

  "And maybe something with brownie bites or chocolate chip cookie dough."

  I nodded. "Chocolate with brownie or cookie dough. Got it." I stood up out of the car.

  "And none of that lite junk," she called. "And if it has a caramel swirl running through it, I will love you forever."

  I leaned back into the car. "What about if they have caramel syrup, and I swirl it into a chocolate brownie ice cream for you?"

  "Then I will love you even beyond forever."

  "So glad you're not picky about your ice cream, otherwise we'd be here all night."

  * * *

  I SET the bag on the breakfast nook table and pulled out a quart of cookie dough, a quart of fudge brownie surprise and a quart of salted caramel twist. Shay returned to the table with two bowls and some spoons.

  "You really delivered." She sat on a chair and drew all three quarts closer. "I think I'll have one scoop of each."

  "Kind of figured you would." I took my coat off and unbuttoned the top two buttons and the sleeves on my dress shirt. I rolled them up to keep them out of the way of the ice cream extravaganza. I pulled up a chair across from Shay. It felt right as hell sitting with her in the kitchen spooning up ice cream and laughing about the night.

  It had occurred to me more than once since I'd begun to build my own wealth that having lots of money provided security and fun, but it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I'd imagined. Sometimes it seemed I worked toward earning the big bucks just so I could say fuck off to my dad and let him know that getting rich wasn't all that difficult or all that noble. Being with Shay had brought some of those doubts and moments of reflection back to the surface.

  Her brows knitted together in serious concentration as she dug the big spoon into the brownie ice cream. A big lump popped up and landed on the table. She scooped it up and dropped it into her bowl. "Don't judge. It's been a long night."

  "And you were far more successful at that party than me." I took a large scoop of ice cream on my spoon and dropped it in the bowl. "I'm curious, Shay, what will you do with the hundred grand you earn here?"

  She took a big bite and closed her eyes with a minor case of brain freeze. She swallowed and dove in for another bite. "Well, first, I plan to find shelter that is not on four wheels." She leaned back and licked the spoon. She managed to make everything look erotic. "This is probably far too ambitio
us for that sum of money, considering the cost of living in California, but my dream would be to start a dance school in a neighborhood that's lacking anything like it. And kids who couldn't afford it, could still come and take classes. Like Miss Katherine did for me."

  "That sounds like a noble plan. I like that idea."

  "Now if I get the million dollars—" She sat forward and scooped up more ice cream.

  "Hey, you have to admit, I've been behaving like a fucking saint."

  She covered her mouth to avoid spitting out ice cream. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth.

  "Don't laugh. At least for me, this is sainthood."

  "No, you're right, I was just trying to remember which saint was the one who liked to watch women in the shower."

  "I think that's Saint Loofah."

  She tasted the caramel ice cream. "Hmm, this is so good. You need to plunge your spoon in right there where the rich vein of caramel runs through it." She lowered her spoon and sat back. "Why wasn't your dad at the party?"

  I shoveled out a scoop of caramel. "He's sick. Only has a few months left, according to his oncologist."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. Did your parents divorce, or did your mom die too?"

  I hadn't expected the personal questions, but it was never hard to talk about my crummy childhood with Shay. She'd had her own share of stumbling blocks growing up. She had just managed to come out much more well-adjusted.

  "My dad paid a woman to carry his kid. I never knew her. But I used to like to think she was out there keeping tabs on me. I suppose that was easier to swallow than thinking some woman just took a wad of cash and walked away from her baby without looking back."

  "It's a little like that with me. I used to imagine that my mom was still watching over me, making sure I was safe and happy, and all the while, being more content herself. Although, she knew my grandmother better than anyone. Gran-gran was her mother. They never got along, and when my mom got pregnant by some boy at a party at the ripe old age of sixteen, Gran-gran kicked her out of the house."

  "Nice. So she was technically kicking out her kid and her granddaughter."

  Shay pushed the bowl of ice cream back. "I've now made myself nauseous. " She rubbed her bare arms. "And cold. I'm going to make a cup of tea. Do you want any?"

  "Nope, I think I'm good."

  I leaned my arm on the edge of the table and watched Shay walk barefoot to the kitchen cupboard. The short dress hem she'd been fighting all night inched up to just below her bottom. She took out a cup and then absently reached back and pulled it down. When she was what I referred to as 'working the room', namely trying for that million bucks, she was sexy as hell, but it occurred to me that she didn't have to be working at it. Just watching her yank a dress down her thighs made me want to write that damn million dollar check just so I could have the pleasure of touching her.

  She returned to the table after pouring hot water into a cup with a tea bag. Steam blew off the surface. She pursed her lips together and blew on the tea to cool it.

  "Fuck, is there anything you do with food that's not erotic? My dick is pushing against my fly just watching you blow on your tea."

  She smiled up at me. "Is that right? I believe that's what we call giving the enemy secrets. Maybe I should grab one of those bananas sitting in the fruit bowl."

  "Yeah, leave the banana and sip your tea, my seductive enemy. So your mom had to survive out on the streets while she was carrying you?"

  Shay nodded. "For the first few months. But I guess she had some terrible morning sickness, and with no prenatal care, she ended up weak and dehydrated in a homeless shelter. They took her to the hospital. Then social workers knocked on Gran-gran's door to let her know she was going to be written up for child neglect. The old witch took my mom back in. Eventually, she came to grips with the idea that her daughter was going to bring a baby into the world, and, of course, once I arrived, I was so damn irresistible, she fell in love."

  I laughed at first. "Actually, that sounds very plausible. Something tells me you've spent your whole life stealing people's hearts, and you're barely even aware it's happening. I'm glad the story ended well for your mom and grandmother."

  Her lashes dropped over her eyes, and the steam from the tea made her nose shiny. "It didn't end all that well. They fought all the time. Then my mom met this guy, Toby." She rolled her eyes. "Total goober. Butthead in the extreme. But my mom grew starry eyed whenever she looked at him. I was only five, but I can still remember that his trailer smelled like rotten, dead fish. And I had to sleep in this creepy dark closet space on a blanket and pillow that smelled like the same rotten fish. I didn't move back in with Gran-gran until after—" She sighed. "You know the story. And Gran-gran wasn't the least bit prepared to take in her prepubescent granddaughter, that was for damn sure. Plus, I think I reminded her too much of my mom, which made her both sad and angry all at the same time. Those were tough years."

  "And yet you came out of it amazingly well."

  "Thank you, Nash. My grandmother might argue that point, but thanks anyway."

  "So she's still alive?"

  Shay nodded. She stretched forward her arms. "If you don't mind, I think I'll head into bed. I've got a busy day of sitting around looking tempting tomorrow, and I want to get an early start."

  I bowed my head. "Of course. Oh, and thanks again for tonight, Shay. I never would have known about the Animal Justice logo. You might just have helped me land my first official client."

  20

  There was a smoky pink glow in the room, like the colors of sunset. The lines around me were muted, indistinct, but the ache in my body was pure desire. I was so aware of my erection, the strange surroundings had no effect on me. Nothing was clear except my need for release. Then her face appeared through the haze, the face of the only woman who could give me what I wanted. I reached for her arm, but it vanished in my grasp like a fine, silky mist.

  "Nash.” The deep, sultry tone of her voice and my name on her lush lips was all I needed to take me to the edge. I watched through heavy lids as she leaned over me, her lips parted ready to take me into her mouth. It was too much. She was too much. I stiffened and groaned as hot seed ran down my cock.

  "Fuck." My eyes shot open, erasing the misty colors of sunset and the hot beauty leaning over me. But the hot trickle of my seed was not gone. I couldn't fucking remember the last time I'd had a wet dream, but I was pretty sure it was when my voice was still cracking and hair was starting to sprout on my body.

  I yanked a tissue from the nightstand, wiped myself off and stomped to the bathroom for a shower. I wasn't going to let my adolescent style masturbation throw me. Shay and I were a week into the contract. We'd worked into a routine where she gave me what I called 'a good fix' for a few hours as she strutted around looking irresistible. After I'd reached full physical exhaustion just from watching her, I went in to work on my proposal for the Harvard scientists. We'd set a meeting for the following week, and I had a shitload of things to do to prove to them I could take their product straight to the top of the outdoor adventure industry.

  I showered and got dressed. The smell of bacon sifted down the hallway. Shay was sitting at the table in her shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. She had on her usual warm fuzzy socks, she complained that the hardwood floors in the house were too cold for her feet in the morning. She nibbled a piece of charred bacon while she stared intently at the laptop she had borrowed.

  "I made bacon," she announced unnecessarily.

  "Sounds like a good, well-rounded breakfast to me." I had never expected it to be so easy and so natural to have a woman living in my house. I'd never invited anyone for longer than two days, other than Kimberly, on those rare occasions when we decided to stretch out one session of endless sex to three days. But Shay had been in my house for a week. I looked forward to seeing her sitting in her fuzzy socks doing whatever it was she liked to do in the morning.

  I walked to the coffee pot. "What are you looking at wi
th such concentration?"

  "Just looking for a place to live. I don't want a roommate because they usually suck." She smiled at me over the computer. "Unless they are very easy on the eyes and they buy me not just one quart of ice cream but three."

  Her eyes dropped back to the computer. I stared at her in silence. She was always going to be leaving. I'd made the contract specific, two weeks and the agreement was over. At the time I'd had it drawn up, I'd more than once considered shortening the time to a week, figuring I'd be good and sick of my houseguest by then. But I knew one week wasn't going to be enough time for me to break old habits and regain my focus.

  My dad's stupid chant shot through my brain. Laser focus. Ignore the pain. Win at all costs. There had been plenty of pain, excruciating pain that was for damn sure. And I'd definitely gained some of my focus back. I'd gotten more done in a few days than I had all month. But win at all costs? That was the part that threw me. How could I feel like a winner when all I could think about was what I was about to lose? In one week's time, Shay was going to walk out of my life forever. Nothing about that felt even the slightest bit like a win. Suddenly, losing Shay seemed like a really high cost to pay.

  "Did I make the coffee wrong?" Shay's voice pushed me from my depressing thoughts.

  I took a sip. "No, it's fine. I'm just thinking about business stuff. I've got to go see my dad today. I'll be back after twelve."

  She closed the laptop. The notepad sitting next to it had a list of addresses and phone numbers scribbled on it. "That works. I've got to call some of these landlords. Then I need to go out for a few hours." She left the house every other day for a few hours but never said where she was going.

  "Where you headed?" I never usually asked, figuring it was none of my business. Only lately, I'd been curious.

  "Oh—" she shrugged. My question had caught her off guard. "Nowhere exciting. Just some errands. But I'll see you back here in a few hours. I hope the visit with your dad goes well."