Sex and Key Lime Pie (17 page)

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Authors: Kat Attalla

BOOK: Sex and Key Lime Pie
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“Who, for some bizarre reason, thinks you’re a cool guy.”

Luc tipped his head. Sam did seem to genuinely like Luc. Amazing, since other than Alicia, children didn’t normally take to him. “Obviously, he has impeccable taste.”

Miguel gave him a shove. “He’s a good kid.” “You’re just afraid of losing your star player.”

“He’s a great player, but what makes him a star, is a talent he inherited from his mother, who can’t play soccer worth a damn.”

“That’s for sure.”

“He never behaves as if he’s better than the others. Instead, he acts as if he would be nothing without their help. Cheyanne is the same. It’s in their natures to make sure everyone feels included. You could do a lot worse, Luc.”

“She could do a lot better,” he added.

“I’d agree, except it doesn’t seem as if she has.” Luc, too, found it surprising that she had no man in her life. Beautiful, smart and rich, a winning combination in any part of the world. Did a lousy marriage leave her gun-shy? Whatever the reason, her bad luck in love had turned into his good fortune.

****

Some things never changed. Or so Cheyanne thought at that particular moment. On Luc’s suggestion, she decided that making the trip to Boston at night rather than at an ungodly hour of the morning made more sense. Especially since she would have a big, strong, sexy man helping her load the boxes from the storage garage. She wondered if consideration or curiosity to see her home had him heading toward I-95 at ten o’clock. She didn’t care. With a canopy of stars above and Luc at her side, she felt eighteen again. He drove a more comfortable truck now but back then she had been in his lap more often than the seat.

“That was really nice what you did for Isabelle and Tony,” Cheyanne said.

“I’d say it was even nicer what you did for them.” He put his arm across her shoulders and pulled her close. “It must be hard to give someone your dream.”

She shook her head. “It’s my vision, but it’s their dream. Tony has a lot more ambition than me.”

His lips grazed her temple. “So what’s your dream?”

“I gave up dreaming a long time ago.”

“There must be something you want.”

She’d never wanted anything but him. Well, she had him...temporarily. Maybe she should have been more specific with her prayers. “I want Sam to be happy.”

“He is happy here, but he’s concerned for you.” “How so?”

“He wanted to know if you were my girlfriend again.”

“Again?” She didn’t realize Sam knew about the past but she shouldn’t be surprised. In Mystic Cove, gossip and seafood fed the community. But why didn’t he ask her instead of Luc? Sam had always had her exclusive affections. Was he jealous?

She had been living on borrowed time. Before the summer came to an end she would have to tell Luc the truth. No doubt he would be angry with her but she worried more about how he would react to Sam?

“What did you tell him?”

“I asked if it would bother him. He said it’s okay as long as I don’t make you cry. I figured it was a rule I could live with.”

She playfully smacked his leg. “Don’t you think you should ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?”

“No. The men handled it. No need to worry your pretty little head. You just sit back and think of the many ways you’re going to show your gratitude.”

For sheer audacity, he took the prize. “Am I going to have to spend the rest of the year trying to break Sam of the horrible, macho, bad habits you teach him this summer?”

“Why would you want to? It will be like having me around all the time.”

If she needed to be reminded of him, she looked at her son. She had never been allowed to forget. But tonight she was going to regain at least one part of what motherhood had taken from her these past nine year.

She rubbed her hand over his thigh, and then walked her fingers to the zipper on his jeans. His body jerked to attention. “You might not want to do that while I’m barreling down a deserted road.”

“Then you might want to pull over. I feel an attack of gratitude coming on.”

****

The trip to Boston took longer than usual, but that happened when he took a couple of unexpected detours. When they finally arrived a little after midnight, Luc was ready to fall into bed. Cheyanne had other ideas, and took him on a thorough tour of her apartment. House rule demanded that all shoes and clothing be left by the front door. That was his first hint that this wouldn’t be an ordinary guided tour.

She began with her favorite spot. The kitchen had a versatile, stainless steel refrigerator. From inside she pulled out a chilled bottle of Chardonnay that she slowly poured down his chest and licked off him. The contrast of her hot mouth and the cold liquid was an exquisite torture. The outside of the appliance doubled as a cool brace to support Cheyanne as he made love to her.

Her living room had a view of the Charles River. Of course to see the moonlit water he stretched across the oversized ottoman on his back and dangled his head over the edge. To insure he didn’t slide off, Cheyanne helpfully straddled her legs over his hips while he anchored himself deep inside her, again and again.

The tour ended with the master bedroom. Like many city apartments, the room was small, but the bed was large, and a sensual experience beyond any he had come across to date. The feather mattress cushioned his back and her soft round curves covered the top of him as she made love to him. This was a side of Cheyanne he didn’t know. She was insatiable.

Life didn’t get any better than this.

While he struggled for a normal breath, she reached for the bottle of wine on the bedside table. “Open up.”

He followed her command. She poured a small amount into his mouth then took a long sip herself. With a satisfied sigh, she rolled off him and flopped into the plush mattress. “Now that you’ve seen the apartment, would you like to see the apartment?” “Not if it involves getting out of bed.”

She handed him the bottle. “When did you get lazy?”

“When did you become the Energizer Bunny?”

“I told you I would be very grateful. If you don’t want my gratitude, you are free to say no.”

He set the wine on the table and turned on his side to face her. The city lights shining through the window, cast a shimmering glow over her body. “Your gratitude is going to be the death of me. We need to find a happy medium.”

“In what way?”

“It’s either feast or famine.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. The smooth feel of her skin against his had an arousing effect. “Why don’t you stay with me for the rest of the summer so we can space it out?” The words flew out before he could stop them.

“What about Sam?”

“I meant him too. It’s a big house.”

He couldn’t read her expression. She’d become guarded with her emotions. He didn’t care for the change. Not when he had to admit responsibility for her wariness.

“Did you think it through before you asked, or are you just reacting to the sex?”

“What does that mean?”

She rested her hand against his cheek and smiled. Her blue eyes stared into his. “Don’t get defensive. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m not defensive.”

“Not much,” she said humorously. “As irresistible as you are, I must regretfully decline.”

She turned him down! He’d shocked himself with the offer, but it never occurred to him that she would say no.

“I won’t spend a night in bed with you while my child is in the same house.”

Seemed his cousin was right. She wasn’t making it easy on him any more. He used to let her jump through hoops for his attention. When had she learned how to beat him at his own game?

“Call me old fashioned, but I don’t think it’s right. Not unless I’m married. And don’t have a stroke, that wasn’t a hint. But he’s only eight years old.”

He tangled his fingers into the silky strands of her hair and eased her beneath him. “Okay, Cheyanne, I get it.”

“Just not as often as you want to?” She wriggled impatiently.

He chuckled in spite of himself. She wouldn’t allow him the dignity of being angry. The less interest she projected, the more he wanted her. She had not only learned to beat him at his game, she’d become a grand master. He would have to be content with making the most of the times he had with her. And that, she did make very easy on him.

 

Chapter
Twelve

 

Monday morning, Cheyanne made her way to the restaurant. Taste of Lisbon was closed for business until the Fourth of July, two days away. The menu had been decided, the food ordered and some of the preparations begun. It looked to be a banner season for the Cove this year. Not a vacancy or rental property was available for the upcoming weekend. They expected large crowds from breakfast right through dinner. She circled the dining room to determine the best layout for optimum seating.

Cheyanne thought she would have the place to herself, but fifteen minutes after her arrival Tony showed up. She looked up from her task. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he answered and picked up the opposite end of the table she wanted moved. “Someone mentioned you were here, and Isabelle told me to come see what you were up to.”

“Your wife is in labor.”

“She told me to get lost. She said it would be hours before she would be ready to leave for the hospital and she was tired of me staring at her. She began some of the cooking for Christ sake. She didn’t want to leave it all to us.”

That sounded like Izzy. Cheyanne’s offer to sit with her had resulted in the same brush off.

“Sam’s at camp, so I figured I would see how we can set this. I don’t suppose you can get hold of picnic tables for outside dining? I have the beautiful yellow and white catering tent we could set on the wharf side and we would still keep six feet of distance from the sidewalks per the town ordinance.”

“Jeez, is there anything you don’t think of?”

He watched her. Not in a way that made her uncomfortable or that would jeopardize her friendship with Isabelle, but more like a person figuring out a puzzle.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He straightened one of the tables against the wall.

“You obviously want to ask me something.”

“I’m not sure if I should.”

She sat in a chair. “Go ahead.”

“You and I have no history. I’m younger than Luc and Miguel but older than you and Izzy. Maybe I see things because I wasn’t as close to the situations as the others.”

“I’m not following.”

“It’s no coincidence that Sam looks more like Isabelle than you, is it?”

“What are you getting at?”

He leaned against the counter. “How old is he, Cheyanne?”

“Eight.”

“When does he turn nine?” He paused and shook his head. “You don’t have to answer. I heard him tell Alicia today that his birthday is next month.”

Her stomach knotted. “Are you going to say anything?”

“Not me. But you’d better soon. I’m not the only one who can do simple math.”

“If I time it for the Fourth of July, we can see two sets of fireworks. He’s going to explode.”

“No doubt. We all know he can be a—”

“Bastard?” she finished for him.

He shrugged. “Yeah. But he’ll get over it. He did last time.”

“Nine years later. And that was when he only thought I stole his inheritance from him.”

“He’d kill me if he knew I told you this, but he went after you. When they got the loan, you were the first person he wanted to see. When he got back from Boston, he refused to talk about it.”

The revelation hit her like an electrical jolt. “I never saw him.”

“No, you were already married.”

Tony’s voice was not judgmental, but it sounded as if she had married out of spite. How long was she supposed to hold onto an impossible dream before taking stock of her life? The first month after Harlan’s death, she couldn’t even think about what Luc had said to her without getting physically sick. Yet through the heartache and nausea, she still prayed he would come for her. By the third month when she realized she was pregnant, she gave up on prayer and forced herself into the real world.

She used the excuse of the house sale as her reason for returning. In reality, Sam had been asking a lot of questions about his real father over the past year. When Morris told her Luc and Miguel paid off the loan early, she hoped the inheritance would no longer be an issue between them.

“I’ll tell him soon.”

“You might want to talk to Isabelle first. You’re going to need a mediator.”

Cheyanne came to her feet. “No way. I told her I don’t want her in the middle between Luc and me ever again.”

“How’s that been going so far?” Tony asked.

She slid a small table toward him. “You know, Tony, I used to think you were an angel but you’re a smart ass like the rest of them.”

“That makes us even. I used to think you were a smart ass like the rest of them, but it turns out you’re an angel.”

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