An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Birthday Blessing ISBN 9781419912641 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Birthday Blessing Copyright © 2007 Jill Noelle & Julia Daniels Edited by Helen Woodall. Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication October 2007 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
BIRTHDAY BLESSING Jill Noelle & Julia Daniels
Dedication Birthday Blessing is dedicated to all those thirty-somethings who think they will never find a happily-ever-after. The brave and strong women who plug along through life doing the best they can for everyone else—putting loved ones before their own happiness and desires. One day your time will come. Just remember it’s all karma… What goes around, comes around… May you experience all the very best that life has to offer Love, Jill and Julia
Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: FiberLax: Chain Drug Marketing Association, Inc. Ford Escort: Ford Motor Company Corporation Ho-Hos: Continental Baking Company Corporation Mercedes: DaimlerChrysler AG Corporation Miami Vice: Universal City Studios LLLP USI-UCS Playgirl: Playgirl Key Club, Inc. South Park: Viacom Ha! Holding Company Steelers: Pittsburgh Steelers Sports, Inc.
King of Swords The personality of the King of Swords is a combination of the positive energy typical of the Swords and the commanding focus of a King. A man of reason, the King of Swords can read a situation and make a decision lickety-split. He analyzes any problem with ease. In chaos, he can slice through and provide the needed steps to move forward. Truth and honesty are his core values, he cannot be corrupted and lives by the highest ethical standards—and expects the same of those around him. Our King of Swords, Brent Kennedy, is a respected police detective, a former serviceman and was chosen in a birthday Tarot card reading for our heroine Lillian Smythe.
Jill Noelle & Julia Daniels
Chapter One “You’re doing great, Susie! One last push and she’ll be out.” Doctor Lillian Smythe stood at the ready, prepared to catch her third baby of the day. This one had been an easy labor, no surprises, with a mother who’d been through the grueling process twice before. The tiny newborn slipped into Lillian’s hands and she laughed, as she always did, at the miracle of birth. Though bloody and wrinkled, the infant was the epitome of perfection. Another new life, she thought. Welcome to the world, little one. “Well done, Susie. You have a perfect baby girl.” Lillian offered the proud father the chance to cut the cord, placed the squirming infant in the teary-eyed mother’s arms and then returned to the final details of the birth. After she cleaned herself up, she stood for the customary picture and took one final look at the baby. She wished everyone well and left the room, another long day in the books. “Jenny,” she called to her assistant who was talking with a nurse a short distance down the hallway. “I’ll finish up the chart and then be out of here.” Lillian took a seat behind the nurses’ station. “You can go on home. I’ll be on call tonight if you need me.” “Lillian, it’s your birthday, for God’s sake.” Jenny finished her conversation, and then came over to the nurses’ station and leaned across the counter. “Take the night off.” “Babies don’t care if it’s my birthday, Christmas or the Fourth of July,” Lillian said on a sigh. “Besides, it’s just another day.” Shorter of breath and one day closer to death. “Well, I will not be paging you tonight, no matter how many babies demand to make an appearance. Doctor McMillan already told me not to. And you know…when Mac talks, people listen.” Jenny winked and shrugged into her fur-lined leather coat. “Don’t stay too long. Morning rounds come early for you.” “Yes, Mom.” Lillian waved off her friend. “Drive safely.” Lillian watched Jenny walk down the long hallway, a little jealous of what the other woman had waiting for her at home. A nice husband and two perfect children. How Jenny managed juggling a family with her career, Lillian couldn’t imagine, though lately, she’d been having some pretty out-of-character fantasies. Fantasies filled with her own husband and her own children—a little house with a white picket fence. Complete with a golden retriever and a mini-van. Lillian pushed the disturbing thoughts from her mind and returned her attention to the charts. The mundane paperwork had to be done but she finished quickly. She
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changed out of her scrubs and into her street clothes, then said her goodbyes and thanks to the well-trained nurses who made her job so much easier. Being a doctor had its perks, one of which was physician parking, located in a covered garage adjacent to the hospital. Lillian strode down the stairs to the secondfloor deck, thankful she’d not have to scrape ice off her car windows. Disabling the car alarm, she climbed in, gunned the engine and took off, visions of a long hot bath with strains of Tchaikovsky’s “Nutcracker Suite” in the background filling her head. Nearly ten o’clock and the downtown streets were deserted, save for a few brave souls who risked frostbite to take advantage of the pre-holiday sales. Light snow still fell, coating her windshield and turning the village square into a winter wonderland. Christmas decorations hung from the lampposts, swaying in the breeze. An enormous fir tree, decorated from top to bottom with hundreds of twinkling lights, glowed brightly as Lillian passed by, making her way across town toward home. She turned down Johnson Street, passing old, rundown row houses, their worn exteriors somehow made to look less shabby by the coating of newly fallen snow. When she reached the railroad tracks, she crossed over and then looked to her left out of habit. A sense of pride filled her as she caught sight of the house, sitting on the crest of a hill. Backed by an enormous full moon, the rambling estate seemed to glow with friendly, welcoming warmth. Even from this distance, she could make out the twinkling Christmas lights strung along the fence rail, a sparkling beacon, guiding her home. Lillian swung into the drive that wound its way upward, expertly maneuvering her tiny car between the high-plowed drifts. She reached the security gate at the entrance to the estate, punched in the code and waited while the wrought iron doors swung open, admitting her to the immediate grounds of Smythton Manor. Here, the cobblestone driveway was clear, kept free of ice and snow by Ralph, her grandfather’s long-time caretaker, cum butler, cum man Friday. Lillian drove through the gates, her gaze fixed on the house. The long oval windows beneath hand-carved dentil moldings looked like glowing eyes in the moonlight, watching her as she drove by. The light in her grandfather’s third-story window still shone and she imagined him sitting there before the fire, sipping a cup of tea, waiting up to be sure she’d made it home safely. The thought warmed her heart and brought a small smile to her lips. Lillian pulled under the columned portico shelter at the front door and waited for Ralph. When he didn’t appear right away, she put the car in gear and pulled around to the back of the house. Hitting a button on the remote, she waited while the garage door opened, then pulled slowly inside. She killed the engine, climbed from the car then entered the house by way of the back kitchen door. Once inside, she paused, listening to the sounds of silence, broken only by the antique grandfather clock’s loud tick, tick, tick. She walked through the mudroom, hung her bag in the closet, placed her boots on the heating vent
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and stuffed her feet into the fluffy slippers she’d left there early that morning. Rolling her stiff neck, she climbed the back stairs, confident everyone was in their own suites and the nurse she had hired was on duty, doing her rounds. Lillian’s footsteps fell silently on the thick Moroccan carpets. At least the furnace was working again. The house was a nuisance. Too big. Too old. And too expensive to maintain. But too much a part of her soul even to think about selling. She stopped outside her grandfather’s quarters, listening quietly. Had he gone to bed? He always felt better knowing she was home, especially when she put in long days like this one. No sound emanated from his room, so after a few moments, Lillian made her way down the long, poorly lit hallway to her own apartment.
***** “Surprise!” Lillian gasped and jumped back, nearly tripping over Jigs and Trigger, her two most recent animal shelter rescue pups, as they bolted out the door and shot off down the hallway. “What the—” She quickly took in the smiling faces of her housemates, the pink and white balloons and streamers and the pile of presents on her coffee table and heaved a sigh. “A surprise party,” she said, offering the assembled group a weak smile. “How nice.” Aunt Fran swept forward in a cloud of black lace and chiffon. “Of course we threw you a party, missy. You didn’t think we’d forget your birthday, did you?” “No, no, I didn’t think you’d forget.” Lillian shrugged out of her coat. She handed it to Cousin Larry, who had materialized at her side, a small smile on his plain, wide face. Much like Lillian, Larry—who wasn’t really her cousin, but the son of some distant relative—had lost his parents at a young age and had been raised by Henry, Grace and Fran. Lillian loved him like a little brother. He never failed to make her smile. She flashed him a wink then turned back to her aunt. “But really, you didn’t have to go to all the trouble.” “Nonsense, dear,” Aunt Grace called from her spot on the couch. “’Twas no trouble at all.” She looked at her brother. “Was it, Henry?” “’Course not, ’course not.” Grampy’s watery smile matched his watery eyes and he sniffled. “Grampy, are you sick again?” Lillian rounded the coffee table and took a seat next to her grandfather, placing her palm against his forehead. “You don’t feel warm.” “Oh he’s fine. Quit fussing over him,” Aunt Fran said. “It’s just his allergies acting up again. You know how he gets. Now say hello to Jenny, dear. Wasn’t it nice of her to join us tonight?” Jenny? Oh lord. Lillian glanced over her shoulder, her face suddenly hot. Jenny sat on a wingback chair in the corner near the window, holding a drink in her hand and grinning from ear to ear.
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“Happy birthday, doc,” Jenny cheerily called out, raising her glass in the air. “Nice place you have here.” “Hi, Jenny. Thanks for coming.” Somehow, Lillian managed to make the words sound sincere. How in the world had Lillian missed Jenny’s car in the driveway? She adored the woman but Jenny loved a good story and as hard as Lillian had worked to keep her business and personal life separate, she worried that by this time tomorrow, the clinic and then the hospital would know more details about her life than Lillian cared to share, right down to the color of her carpeting and what kind of jewelry the aunts wore. “Might not look like it,” Aunt Grace said, leaning forward in her chair, “but this is a theme party.” She smiled brightly and nodded. “Isn’t that right, Henry?” “Of a sort, Grace. Of a sort.” Chuckling, Grampy nodded. “’Course, if our Lillian’s face turns any redder, she’s liable to go up in a puff of smoke.” “Grampy! Settle down.” Lillian reached out and tugged her grandfather’s oldfashioned handlebar mustache. He’d worn it the same way for as long as she could remember and for as long as she could remember, she’d tweaked it when she wanted to gain his attention. She turned to Grace. “What do you mean, theme party?” “Let’s get this show on the road,” Aunt Fran said before Aunt Grace could respond. She came around the couch and took a seat in the large, overstuffed chair near the coffee table. “Lillian, why don’t we start with your reading?” “Oh no, Aunt Fran, can’t that wait for later?” Lillian cast a quick glance toward Jenny. The last thing she needed was for her coworkers to hear about Aunt Fran’s “talents”. “Why don’t we open presents?” Lillian looked around, hoping for a way to get out of the reading. “Is there cake?” “Fine, you can open one present now—mine—and then we’ll do your reading.” Aunt Fran cackled good-naturedly. She grabbed a small, neatly wrapped gift from the stack and tossed it. Lillian caught the box in mid-air as Jenny came forward to lean against the back of the couch and everyone else moved closer. “Open it, L-L-Lillian,” Larry said, his slow, deep voice filled with excitement. “Let’s see what you g-g-got.” Lillian smiled and patted her cousin’s hand. How could she resist his enthusiasm? She gave a shrug of surrender and tore into the wrapping paper. Pulling out a small, beautifully made wooden box, she held it up, turning it toward the light. “Oh Aunt Fran, it’s love— Is that… Oh my goodness!” Lillian stared at the ornate carvings covering the box, her eyes growing wider by the second. Depicted along all four sides and across the top were the most amazing, vivid, detailed, pornographic carvings she’d ever seen. “Let me see, Lillian. What is it?” Jenny leaned forward and reached out her hand.
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Lillian hesitated half an instant then handed the box over, wishing she could crawl into a hole somewhere and hide. “Wow! Look at this thing, would you? Damn, they’re doing stuff I didn’t even know was possible.” Jenny laughed and passed the box on to Aunt Grace. “It’s really pretty, Lillian. Your aunt has great taste.” “Thanks. I think.” Lillian refused to meet Jenny’s eye. Wait until she got Aunt Fran alone. What could she be thinking? “Pass that back here,” Aunt Fran said, holding out her hand. “It’s what’s inside that’s important and Lillian hasn’t even opened it yet.” Aunt Fran took the box and placed it in the middle of the coffee table. She unhooked the latch, flipped up the lid and spun it around. Lillian gasped and covered her face, awash in mortification. This had to be a dream…a nightmare. She had not just received a tarot deck from her seventy-threeyear-old aunt. A tarot deck depicting naked men! She peeked through her fingers. Incredibly hot, sexy naked men. Really, really well-endowed naked men. She closed her eyes and shuddered. “Lillian, are you o-o-okay?” “Yes, Larry, I’m fine.” Heaving a sigh, Lillian dropped her hands onto her lap. She forced a smile. “Thank you, Aunt Fran, they’re lovely.” “Aren’t they though? Just look at his huge—” “Aunt Fran!” Giggling like a young girl, Aunt Fran scooped the cards from the box and spread them on the table. Lillian tried not to stare but found herself mesmerized by the beautiful cards. Upon closer inspection, she found not all the nudes were men. Several very lovely, voluptuous women were depicted as well. She’d never seen anything quite like this particular tarot deck. Instead of drawings, the images were more like photographs, brilliantly colored and lifelike. “Larry, dim the lights, would you, dear?” Fran asked, scooping up the cards and arranging them in a neat stack, which she held out to Lillian. “You know the drill, Lil. Give them a good shuffling.” Reluctantly, Lillian took the cards. The moment her hand closed around the deck, her palm tingled and a tiny vibration raced up her arm. Lillian frowned and began shuffling. “Concentrate on the question of what your new year will bring you, child,” Fran instructed in a quiet, mysterious voice. “Connect with your cards.” Lillian inwardly rolled her eyes but did what her aunt requested. What will the new year bring for me? As the thought filled her mind, the cards heated, sizzled in her hand. Lillian gasped and tried to drop them but her fingers seemed beyond her control, folded mutinously
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around the cards in a white-knuckled grip. She looked up at her aunt, silently begging for assistance. “Lillian, what’s wrong?” Fran placed her hand on Lillian’s and the cards instantly cooled. Quickly, Lillian placed the deck face down on the table. “They were hot!” “You’d be hot too if you were doing what they’re doing.” Jenny pointed to the uppermost card, which depicted a man and a woman frolicking on the beach, their limbs entwined, their bodies blatantly joined. “Very funny,” Lillian said, scooting back from the table. She didn’t know what had just happened but there was definitely something very strange about her new tarot cards. “All right, everyone be quiet now. I must connect with the cards in order to do Lillian’s birthday reading.” Fran flipped her feather boa over her shoulder, took the deck and carefully dealt them out on the tabletop. Cards one through three went down the left side, cards four and five across the bottom, cards six and seven up the right side and then back to the left, with the eighth card going just to the right of card number one. When Aunt Fran finished, she placed one more card—the ninth—at the very top, just above the eighth. Lillian paid only scant attention to the spread, Fran dealt them the same every year and Lillian had long since memorized their placement. She was much more concerned with card number nine. That one, she knew, would describe her birthday gift—the blessing she could expect over the coming year. Aunt Fran cleared her throat. “Ready, dear?” “As I’ll ever be,” Lillian said, casting a sidelong glance at Jenny. With a flourish and a flick of her wrist, Aunt Fran flipped over the first card. Lillian leaned forward, studying the card with a critical eye. Depicted on a background of royal blue and gold lay a lone man. He had one hand draped across his brow, the other at his groin, holding his erect cock in his fist. Lillian’s cheeks grew warm but she did not look away. “What is he?” “A very lovely stud muffin.” “Aunt Grace!” Lillian gasped, the heat in her cheeks turning up a notch. “He’s The Hermit,” Aunt Fran said. “As you know, child, this first card indicates that which has happened in your past and that which is passing away now. The Hermit denotes a time of aloneness, a time of inner examination. A period in which you get to know yourself. Basically, his appearance in this position of the reading means those days are over now.” Lillian looked around the room, her gaze falling on her housemates. “I’ve been alone? Could have fooled me.” “B-but you have, Lil. You haven’t had a boyfriend or even gone out on a d-d-date since college!”
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“You haven’t had a single date in seven years?” Jenny’s voice rose on a note of disbelief. “You really have been a hermit!” Lillian ducked her head. “I’ve been a little busy, I guess.” “Busy and alone but as I said, that’s over now. Let’s see what else your cards have to say.” Aunt Fran turned over the second card. “Grace, go get some paper and write this down, will you?” Lillian smiled at Grace as she rushed to do Fran’s bidding. “The Three of Pentacles,” Fran continued. “In this position, the card indicates your accomplishments of the last year and he,” Aunt Fran said, stabbing at the image on the card, that of a man—naked, of course—and wearing a very self-satisfied grin, sitting behind a large, highly polished mahogany desk, “portrays both your financial and emotional success in your career.” “Have you ever seen a sexier smile?” Jenny asked. “He’s gorgeous!” “Wow,” Grace said, resuming her seat, pad of paper on her lap. Lillian cleared her throat. “Let’s move on, shall we?” Aunt Fran chuckled and turned over another card. “The third card in this spread shows you the things in your life—goals, issues, tasks—you’ll carry with you into the coming birthday year. This, the Six of Pentacles, shows your generous nature and your struggle to balance your generosity with your own needs.” Lillian barely heard her aunt’s explanation. She stared at the scene portrayed on the card—that of a man, bent to the task of pleasuring his lover, his face buried between her lush thighs. Oh God. Lillian shifted on the sofa, squeezing her legs together in an effort to stop their sudden trembling. Aunt Fran flipped over the next card. “This fourth card, The Wheel of Fortune, shows where you are right now. The Wheel indicates you are standing on the edge of a great change—a change you won’t be able to stop but which you might be able to control if you are careful.” “What kind of change?” Jenny asked, obviously enthused by such a mysterious message. “All in good time, child, all in good time. Fran still has five more cards to turn over.” Grampy smiled and nodded, his thin, gray hair waving like a flag atop his balding head. Five more hot, sexy, intimate images to endure. Lillian fought the urge to fan herself as she studied the couple standing before a large, colorful, upright wheel. Positioned behind the woman, the man cupped her breasts while pressing his lips to her neck. He seemed oblivious to the giant disk, while the woman, on the other hand, seemed mesmerized by it. “The fifth card in your spread depicts new influences that will enter your life during the coming year.” Aunt Fran flipped the card as she spoke. “Hmmm, interesting.”
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“What?” Aunt Grace, Jenny and Lillian all spoke as one. “This is the Ace of Cups,” Aunt Fran said, “and it signifies the beginning of a relationship. Apparently, missy, you’re going to find yourself a beau!” “Whoo hoo! Lillian’s gonna get a man!” Jenny hooted and clapped her hands. “All right!” “Jenny, please. I’m really not interested in a relationship right now,” Lillian said. Maybe not ever. “Doesn’t matter. The cards are always right,” Aunt Fran said. “A-a-and they are too. Don’t you r-r-remember what they s-s-said last year, Lil? They said you would experience a great personal t-t-tragedy and you d-d-did!” “I’d hardly call having a fender bender in five o’clock traffic a ‘tragedy’,” Lillian said, softening her words with a smile. “Didn’t that happen the same night Mrs. Cartright went into labor with twins and you—never mind.” Jenny snapped her mouth closed. “Shit. Yes.” Lillian swallowed and blinked back the sting of tears as she remembered the events of that day. Mrs. Cartright had given birth before Lillian made it to the hospital and one of her babies had died. Although everyone assured her the baby wouldn’t have lived under any circumstances, Lillian had a hard time getting past the ‘what ifs’. What if she hadn’t been in an accident? What if she’d made it to the hospital in time and had been the one to handle the delivery? “I’m sorry, Lil,” Jenny said quietly. “No, it’s okay, really.” Lillian cleared her throat. Brushing tears from her eyes, she nodded to her aunt. “What’s the next one?” “The Seven of Swords,” Aunt Fran said, flipping the card. “This is not a good card for this position, I’m afraid, because this one denotes the challenge or challenges you will face.” Lillian studied the card with a heavy sense of unease. The scene, portrayed in slick, bold colors, showed a man and a woman making love, while a second man stood in the doorway, watching them, a look of anguish clearly written on his handsome face. “What does it mean?” “This is the card of thievery and deception.” Aunt Fran nodded toward the card. “That woman is obviously not that man’s wife.” “I’d say not,” Aunt Grace piped in. “It’s clear the gent in the doorway is her husband. Just look at his face. Seems as if he might cry at any moment.” “I’ll dry his tears for him,” Jenny murmured. For a moment, no one responded but then Lillian laughed and the atmosphere lightened. “Okay, so someone is going to try to steal my new man. Great.” “Not necessarily,” Fran said, wiggling her brows. “The cards don’t lie but there’s a lot of room for interpretation in some of their messages. We’ll simply have to pay close attention in the weeks to come to decipher the true meaning. Now, on to the next card.” 13
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Aunt Fran turned over the seventh card in Lillian’s birthday spread and gasped. “What now?” Lillian asked, fearfully eyeing the lovely, naked and oh-so-pregnant woman depicted on the card. “This is the Queen of Pentacles,” Aunt Fran said, her voice laced with excitement. “In this position, she denotes the goals you’ll pursue in the coming year and as you can see, her meaning is clear. She represents motherhood, generosity and a balance between matters of finances and matters of the heart.” “So I’m going to find a man and have a baby, all in one year?” Lillian raised a disbelieving brow. “Don’t scoff, Lillian. The cards don’t—” “Lie. Yeah, I know. Okay. Next.” Lillian gritted her teeth. This was shaping up to be one hell of a year. “Card number eight,” Aunt Fran said, revealing the card, “is The Lovers.” A collective gasp filled the room. Lillian bit back a sigh and studied the image, amazed by the clarity of emotions written on the faces of the people—three, in all—on the card. Two very lovely, voluptuous women appeared to plead with a man, while he seemed distraught, caught in the middle and unable to choose. “Now this,” Aunt Fran said, “is interesting. This position shows your overall outlook for the coming birthday year but the card has two possible meanings. The first and most obvious is that of choice—a difficult one, by the looks of it. The second and the one I’m inclined to think applies to you, based on the rest of your cards, is that of a great love. A divine love, if you will. A soul mate, sent from heaven.” “My new man?” Lillian asked, ignoring the chills racing along her arms. She shrugged. “With my luck, he’ll be the thief described in card number six.” “Your soul mate will not be deceptive,” Aunt Fran said. “The cards told you this?” Lillian snorted. “No, life told me this. Obviously, if a man is your soul mate, he’s not going to deceive you. If he did, he wouldn’t be your true love—the one.” “Yeah, Lillian, what’s wrong with you? Why are you being so difficult?” Jenny asked, releasing a sigh. “If I were you, I’d be out there right now, roaming the streets, looking for the man of my dreams. How romantic can you get? Just think, by this time next year, you’ll be happily ensconced in a wonderful relationship with the perfect man and possibly carrying his child. And even if it’s all baloney, so what? Can’t hurt a girl to dream a little, can it?” “Actually, yes,” Lillian replied. “Sometimes, dreaming can get you hurt. People who walk around with their heads in the clouds tend to step in a lot of crap.” “Girls, girls, enough.” Aunt Fran placed her hand on the ninth and final card. “Why don’t we see what your birthday blessing is going to be, hmmm?” “Yes, go ahead. Let’s get this over with.” Lillian’s stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry for a slice of Aunt Grace’s famous cherry chocolate birthday cake.” 14
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“It’s shaped like like like a p-p-penis, Lil!” “Larry!” Grace chided. “That was supposed to be a surprise!” “A penis?” Lillian’s voice broke. “You made a penis cake, Aunt Grace?” The older woman shrugged, not quite meeting Lillian’s eyes. “Told you it was a theme party,” Grampy said. This was murder. Lillian was dying a slow death of mortification, with no way to stop it. “Here’s the last card!” Aunt Fran lifted one corner of the final card and drew it upward, flipping it around until it lay, face up, on the table. “Holy Moses!” Jenny exclaimed. Lillian sucked in her breathed and blinked, all thoughts of cake and thieves and soul mates fleeing at the sight before her. “He’s…breathtaking.” “That he is, missy. That he is. This is the King of Swords. In light of all the cards that have come before, I believe he represents a person. A man, to be more precise. The King of Swords is a man of the highest ethical standards. He’s a pillar of strength, a commander of people, a wise decision-maker who inspires obedience through trust. He has powerful emotions but keeps them under control and uses them for good.” Lillian listened with half an ear, the majority of her attention caught up by the glorious specimen of manhood gracing her birthday blessing card. From his finely chiseled jaw, down to his rock-hard muscular calves, he screamed sensuality like no man she’d ever seen. He wore a soft, seductive smile—and nothing else. His hard-on was blatantly—almost proudly—displayed. This man was gorgeous and he knew it. Lillian’s hands itched to reach out and touch his broad, tanned chest and she clenched them tight in her lap. “He’s decisive and not afraid to act.” Aunt Fran continued her reading. “He sounds dreamy,” Jenny said, sounding like Marcia Brady mooning it over Davy Jones. “Not so fast.” Aunt Fran held up her hand. “Those are his good qualities. He does have some that are not so wonderful, I’m afraid. For instance, he’s totally intolerant of those who break the law—or rather, his laws—and he sometimes has very little empathy for others. He tends to judge matters in a very cold, non-emotional manner.” “Gee, sounds like my kinda guy.” Lillian shook her head, breaking the erotic spell under which she’d fallen. “You call that a birthday blessing? Sounds more like a drill sergeant.” “I suppose you could look at it as a challenge,” Jenny said. “If you could fix the bad stuff, he’d be perfect. I mean, look at him, would you?” “Oh yeah, that’s just what I need—a man I think I can change.” Lillian laughed. “There have been whole books written about women who think they can fix their men. No thanks. I’ll pass.”
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“You won’t have a choice, I’m afraid,” Aunt Fran said. “In any case, perhaps it’s not about changing him but more about temperance—evening each other out? You’re emotional, gracious, generous to a fault. Perhaps each of you could balance the other? Remember your third card, the Six of Pentacles and the need to balance your giving nature with your own needs. Most likely, the two cards are intertwined.” “If you say so,” Lillian said, jumping to her feet, driven by a sudden urge to move, to do something, anything but sit there and stare at the King of Swords. She wiped her shaking hands on her pants and headed toward the kitchen. “Now, where’s Aunt Grace’s penis cake?”
***** “You’re not mad at me, are you, Lillian?” Aunt Fran stood in the doorway, adjusting her feather boa in a manner Lillian had come to recognize as her aunt’s way of signaling her discomfort. “Mad? How could I be mad? You promised me a king. With a lovely sword.” Lillian giggled before leaning in to place a light kiss on Fran’s soft, wrinkled cheek. “What more could a girl ask for?” “I didn’t promise you anything. You know as well as I, it’s the cards that hold the magic.” Aunt Fran sighed. “I know you don’t believe me but you’ll see. You’ll see soon enough.” “No offense but the only thing I want to see right now are the insides of my eyelids. Sorry, auntie but I’m bushed.” Lillian glanced over her aunt’s shoulder, squinting into the shadows. “What’s that?” “What’s what?” “I thought I saw someone at the end of the hall, near the back stairs.” Lillian blinked rapidly and shook her head. “I guess I must be so tired I’m seeing things.” “Was it a woman?” Aunt Fran asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Aunt Fran…” Lillian heaved a sigh. “It’s late, really, I—” “Dressed in black and carrying a bible?” “I couldn’t say for sure.” Lillian glanced back over her aunt’s shoulder. “It was, wasn’t it?” Fran put her hands on Lillian’s shoulders. “She’s back. We must prepare. Good night, Lillian.” Fran turned to flee down the hall. “Wait. Aunt Fran! What are you talking about? She who?” “Gramma Smythe, of course.” Fran turned back to face her but kept walking down the hallway. “Imagine her coming back here, after all this time.” “Aunt Fran, Gramma Smythe has been dead for, what? Thirty years?” Lillian frowned. What would she do if Fran started losing touch with reality, like Grace? “Don’t you look at me like I’ve lost all my marbles, child.” Fran stopped walking. “I know how long she’s been dead. She was my sister, remember? But what you don’t
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know is that after she passed away, she stayed around for a while. ’Course, she hasn’t been seen in decades. I wonder what brought her back now, after all these years?” Fran paused then flashed a brilliant smile. “I’ll bet she knows about your birthday blessing and wants to be here for all the excitement!” “Fran…” “Did you know you share a birthday?” Aunt Fran pulled her lace shawl closer about her shoulders. “You were both born on November eighteenth.” “No, I didn’t know. Okay, I’m going to bed now, ghosts and kings and penisshaped cakes be damned. I love you, auntie.” “I love you too, Lillian.” Fran headed down the hall toward her own apartment then paused, blowing a kiss over her shoulder. “Sweet dreams.”
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Chapter Two Detective Brent Kennedy knew two things for certain. First, being the low man on the police department totem pole sucked and second, he should have called in sick today. He pulled up in front of Pollman’s, the hoity-toity downtown department store and parked his unmarked police car illegally. He radioed into the station, advising them of his arrival on the scene, and told them he’d be in touch as soon as he had the suspect in custody. Shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. After all, how fast could an eighty-sevenyear-old woman run? What a joke. Ordered to pick up an old lady who’d been caught shoplifting at the store she’d owned for the last fifty-plus years. Brent figured this was some kind of a setup—a way for the department to test the new guy. See how far they could push him, tease him. But the Sarge had been dead serious when he’d given Brent the assignment, instructing him to handle “Miss Grace” with the utmost care and respect. After all, she was a Smythe and the name meant the same in Brent’s home town of Cary as the name Bush meant in Midland, Texas. He climbed out of the car, buttoning his wool coat and adjusting the collar against the brisk breeze blowing in off Lake Erie. Brent shivered and bent his head into the wind, reminding himself it was worth being cold to be a detective on the force. The transfer from Miami back to his home town had been a good choice. His mom needed him now and for her, he’d brave even the mightiest snowstorm. Brent pushed his way inside through the store’s revolving door. The place was much as he remembered from his high school years. They’d decorated for the holidays, with green wreaths laced with red ribbons in every window and an enormous, startopped tree in the lobby. Brent shook his head. Seemed Christmas started earlier every year. “Can I help you, sir?” A plump, well-dressed middle-aged woman approached him, wearing a tight, false smile. “I’m Detective Brent Kennedy.” He flashed his badge. “I understand there’s someone who needs transport?” “Ah yes.” Her smile slipped and she assessed him a bit more critically. “This way.” He followed her wide backside to the rear of the store, amazed by the glitz and the glitter of his surroundings. His mom had never been able to afford to shop here. They’d drive by really slowly, window-shopping, but she never stopped. Maybe he’d buy her a gift certificate for Christmas this year. He could afford it, finally.
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Colorful ornament balls the size of his head hung low from the ceiling. Animated mannequins dressed like Santa and Mrs. Claus waved as he walked past. Beeps from cash registers and Christmas music blended in the background and he was so entranced by it all, he ran into a clothing rack. “Damn it.” His escort whipped around like a tornado. “Sorry,” he said and tried to straighten the sexy black and red negligees but they slipped off their hangers, which only made matters worse. He scooped up the tiny slips of silk and lace, sheepishly holding them out to the woman, who looked at him with a frown. “I’ll fix it later. Come on, Miss Grace is waiting for you.” Brent draped the nighties over the top of the rack then fell back into step behind the woman. He followed her through a set of double doors that opened into a large storage room. They walked down a narrow pathway cluttered with boxes and racks. Merchandise, still in bags, sat on shelves. Finally, they came to a small room bearing a plaque that read “Manager” near the doorway. A blond man about Brent’s age sat behind a desk, tapping on a calculator and holding a phone to his ear. On the small couch farther in the room, an elderly woman was lying down, covered with a bright yellow blanket. The manager hung up the phone and stood. “I’m Detective Kennedy.” Brent extended his hand. “Geoffrey Babbit. Thanks for coming.” He turned to face the elderly woman. “She’s just sleeping. She’s fine.” He waved off the woman who had shown Brent to the office. “Does she come here often?” Brent asked, thinking the whole situation a bit peculiar. “Well, not so much since Doctor Smythe hired a full-time nurse for her.” He shook his head. “Miss Grace worked here her whole life, until about two years ago when her mind started to drift. She sometimes forgets she doesn’t need to be here anymore.” “Does she still own the place, or did they sell?” Brent glanced around the wellorganized office. “Yep, she still owns it.” Babbit nodded, placing his hands on his hips in an odd Superman-like pose. “Along with her brother, Henry Smythe. You might know the name?” Brent nodded. Everyone knew the name. “This place came to them when their mother died. She lived to be a hundred and six. Just like Miss Grace, she worked here almost until she passed.” “Why the shoplifting?” Brent asked, trying to make sense of the situation. If the woman owned the joint, surely she didn’t need to steal the merchandise. “Well, she was used to taking things, wearing them, showing her friends. She’d bring them back, or buy them eventually. She was like a walking advertisement for the
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store. And, well… It worked. We loan out some of the nicer jewelry for the big charity ball every year. Sometimes the gowns too.” “So do you plan to press charges?” “God no! Are you kidding? How would that look in the papers? We’ve always called you guys when we can’t get a hold of her guardian. It’s for the safety of Miss Grace, you see.” “Do we wake her up?” “I’m awake, young man.” Brent turned to find Grace sitting up, frowning at him. “You’re him.” The woman’s mouth dropped open. “You’re my Lillian’s king.” “I’m sorry?” Brent looked from Grace to the manager, raising a questioning brow. “Do you know what she’s talking about?” “I’m talking about my Lillian’s birthday blessing, of course. And don’t you know it’s impolite to talk about people in front of them? Did your mother never tell you?” She stood and flattened out her skirt on her thighs, softening the winkles. She walked to the manager, a bright smile replacing the frown. “Thank you, Geoffrey dear, for the nap. It was just what I needed.” She kissed his cheek and patted it before walking to Brent. “Are you taking me home?” Brent nodded, suddenly speechless. Even in her obviously confused mental condition, Grace Smythe intimidated him. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, tall and authoritative. She wore a tweed suit and matching scarf, her makeup was flawless and despite her recent nap, not a single silver-gray hair on her head was out of place. Brent studied her out of the corner of his eye, wondering at her state of mind. One moment she seemed lucid, the next she appeared confused. “How about we go down to my…um…office first. We’ll wait for your…um…guardian there.” “Very well.” She laced her arm through Brent’s. “’Bye, Geoffrey. I’ll be in at the usual time tomorrow. Do let the girls leave early tonight. They’ll make up the difference as Christmas nears. Ta ta.” She waggled her fingers at Babbit and Brent stifled a laugh. “Miss Grace, my name is Brent Kennedy.” “Yes, dear.” She waved goodbye to the clerks as they walked through the store. “I heard you tell that nice Geoffrey your name.” As they neared the front exit, Grace suddenly stopped. “Now, Mildred,” she said, addressing one of the store clerks, “set up this blouse with a lovely scarf. No one wants to see the hanger, dear.” In a motherly gesture, Miss Grace patted Mildred’s shoulder and then proceeded to do what she’d told the clerk to do. Minutes passed and Brent became impatient. He looked around, checked his watch and even walked over to check out the Christmas tree, feeling its branches to determine if it was real.
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“There, so much better.” Brent heard Grace say. “You see?” The elderly woman looked at the clerk critically. “I asked a question, Hazel.” “That’s Mildred, ma’am.” Grace shook her head and flushed. “Yes, of course. Mildred. My mistake.” She looked blankly at Brent. “What can I do for you, sir?” “I’ve come to escort you home, Miss Grace.” Brent spoke softly. He extended his elbow and smiled gently at her when she accepted his escort. He nodded goodbye to Mildred and led Miss Grace through the front door. “This is my car, Miss Grace,” he said, helping her into the backseat. He buckled her in then shut the door for her. Climbing behind the wheel, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in the station’s number. The desk sergeant answered on the first ring and Brent spoke without preamble. “Kennedy here. I’ve got Grace Smythe with me and we’re headed in. We should be there in ten minutes.” As he flipped the phone closed, he thought he heard the other man chuckle. Reminding himself he had a passenger and couldn’t afford to blow off steam now, Brent eased into the late afternoon traffic and headed uptown. At least his shift was almost over. He was pulling a double tomorrow but tonight…well, there wasn’t anything much better than a Friday night in Cary. Beer, pool and hot wings at Mario’s Tavern. Suddenly, the tension in his shoulders eased and he smiled. Thank God for Friday.
***** “Damn pager.” Lillian paused at the stop sign and checked the number. “Shit.” The cop shop. Again. They’d called so many times, she’d memorized their number. Aunt Grace was at it again. Three months had passed since her aunt pulled her last disappearing act. The latest nurse, Cindy, seemed so reliable, so on top of things. So how had Grace managed to get off the property unnoticed? Lillian bit her lip. God, what if Cindy’d walked off the job, leaving her charges unattended? Clenching the steering wheel, Lillian swallowed back her fear and pulled through the stop sign. She stopped at the first business she came to, a gas station and flipped out her cell phone. Hands shaking, she dialed home. On the sixth ring, her grandfather answered. “Grampy, do you know Aunt Grace is gone?” “She said she was going for a walk. She was in quite a snit today, Lillian, quite a snit, so I let her go.” Lillian took a deep breath, holding her temper. The weather had turned, barely thirty-five degrees and a stiff wind whipping off the lake. The expected snow had just begun to fall, coating her windshield and she put the wipers to work. Had Grace even worn a coat?
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“How long ago was that?” “Oh dear. I don’t recall. I don’t recall.” “Can I talk with Cindy?” Lillian held her breath. “Who?” “Cindy, Grampy, your nurse?” “Oh well now, she left just after breakfast. Said she had a sick daughter and that she wouldn’t be back. Said she wouldn’t be back.” Wouldn’t be back, like forever? Like the others. Lillian didn’t bother asking her grandfather for clarification. She’d call the woman herself and when she reached her, she’d give her a piece of her mind. Lillian would be the first to admit her elderly relatives were difficult but walking out in the middle of a shift was unheard of. “I’ll find Grace, Grampy. Stay by Fran until I get home, would you?” He agreed and she hung up the phone. Despite her eccentricities, Aunt Fran was the only one with a brain that functioned on all six cylinders all the time. Well, except for her ghost sightings. Lillian set the phone on the console next to her seat and then rubbed her temples. She was on call all weekend. The last thing she needed was to try to locate a fill-in nurse. On a snowy Friday night. She picked up the phone again and dialed Cindy’s cell number. When no one answered, Lillian left a message, certain the woman wouldn’t return the call. Smythe Manor had lost more nurses in a year than the whole hospital combined. It was hard working with old people. It was hard living with them too, Lillian admitted. Even if they were all family. She called the police station, relieved they had Aunt Grace and that she was safe and sound, playing cards in the breakroom with a couple of the guys. Lillian laughed as she imagined her prim and proper aunt, holed up with a bunch of burly men, whipping their asses at poker. Grace might not always know who she was but she always won at cards. Those cops would go home with a little less beer money in their pocket. Before pulling out of the gas station, Lillian reluctantly called the temp agency and requested a nurse for the rest of the weekend. If she had a choice, she’d use another agency. Unfortunately, U-Needa-Nurse was the only show in town—in three counties, actually. Not another temp agency provided in-home nursing care to the area. Lillian felt a little better when the woman on the other end apologized profusely for Cindy’s unprofessional behavior and seemed hopeful they’d find a replacement within a few hours. Lillian left her cell phone number and asked to be contacted as soon as they’d located an appropriate caregiver. Checking her mirrors, she pulled into the evening traffic, back the way she’d came. She shook her head, wondering who’d been on duty and picked up her aunt this time. Lillian knew the officers by name, had even developed a friendly rapport with several of them. And every Christmas, she made sure she sent a basket of Basker’s fresh fruit,
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nuts and homemade apple cider down to the station. The least she could do, considering the way they took good care of Grace, always treating her with great kindness and respect. Despite the snow and slow-moving traffic, Lillian made good time. She left the engine running as she rushed up the slushy sidewalk and into the nondescript brick building housing police headquarters and the county jail. “Well, if it isn’t our pill-pushing friend.” Sam McCook greeted her from his post behind the front desk. “I admit it,” she said, laughing. “’Bout time you arrest me for it too.” She unbuttoned her coat. “Where’s she at?” “In the back.” Sam motioned with a nod of his head. “You want that I go get her?” He looked comfortable sitting behind the low counter. “Naw, I’ll go get her.” As Lillian walked toward the back of the station, her pager, hanging on her waistband, beeped. She looked down. Hospital. Of course. Who else? One of her patients had gone into labor shortly before Lillian had left for the day but she’d thought she’d have hours before having to attend the delivery. “Oh excuse me.” She’d run smack dab into a tall, hard body. She stepped back and felt her jaw drop. It was him! The King of Swords. She rubbed a hand over her face and stepped farther back, certain she must be seeing things. “Sorry. My fault. I was in a hurry to get out of here. The snow and all.” He grinned and her stomach did a flip. He was beautiful and he looked exactly like her card. Her birthday blessing card. Her gift for the new year. Lillian swallowed hard and glanced down, unable to resist the urge to see…God, yes. The bulge in his pants was unmistakable. She tore her gaze away, back up to meet his calm, blue stare, her cheeks burning. “Um, sure.” She barely managed to put two words together in response to his apology. “What’s that you got there? A pager?” “Um, yeah.” “Now what’s a girl like you doing with a pager?” He looked at her critically and she shrank back. What the hell could she say? Why wouldn’t her college-educated mind work? With a flip of her hair, she brushed past him and walked away. Ducking into the breakroom, she took several deep, calming breaths. He’s real. A real live human being, not just a picture on a naughty deck of tarot cards. She squeezed her eyes shut, mortified. Her King of Swords was a real man. A man who apparently worked for her hometown police department. Dear Lord. Gathering her wits, Lillian noticed Aunt Grace sitting at a table, watching the nightly news. Apparently, the card game had ended. She didn’t look up as Lillian approached and when she sat at the table, Grace didn’t even acknowledge her presence. 23
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Not a good sign. Apparently, her aunt was having a bad spell. Only when Lillian touched her arm did Grace turn, a glazed, blank look on her face. It was one of those times when the woman didn’t remember anything much beyond her own name. These episodes were coming more often, it seemed, and even the medicine she took didn’t seem to curb them. “Aunt Grace? It’s time to go home.” The old woman nodded, smiling, the faraway look still in her eyes, and stood. Lillian wrapped Grace up in her coat and hat just as the pager beeped again. Lillian reached for her phone but found her pocket empty. Holding a curse, she guided her aunt through the door and down the hall to the front desk. “Sam, can I use your phone?” Lillian noticed the hunky tarot card model standing nearby but she refused to look at him. She took the phone from Sam and dialed the hospital maternity ward. Jenny picked up on the first ring. “How long before the delivery?” Lillian asked, patting Aunt Grace’s hand. “She’s almost fully dilated. This is her first, remember? Why she waited so long after her water broke, I have no idea.” Jenny laughed into the phone. “I’ll be there. I’m just leaving the…” Lillian glanced up and caught the curious gaze of the King of Swords and grimaced. “Never mind. I’ll be there shortly.” She handed the phone back to Sam and zipped up her coat. “Have a nice weekend, Sam.” “You too,” he told her. “Sounds like it’s going to be a busy one for you.” “Oh, more than you know.” Lillian muttered under her breath as she guided her aunt out into the blinding snow.
***** Brent walked to the wall of bulletproof windows and watched the lady lead Miss Grace to a late model Ford Escort. The snow had picked up. A good inch covered the woman’s car already. Did she know one pant leg was in her boot and the other was hanging out? And that coat she was wearing—hell, the damn thing had more patches than one of his grandmother’s quilts. Talk of deliveries and hearing a pager go off raised his hackles. He’d spent too much time in the Miami drug underworld maybe…or maybe she was just one of a string of hundreds of women he’d seen hooked on the junk, unable to stay clean. Sam had called her a drug dealer. He sounded like he’d been joking but maybe not. Maybe she’d convinced old man Smythe to buy her a free pass with the police department if she looked after Miss Grace. She apparently wasn’t doing much of a job of it either. Brent watched her clear off her car windows with a brush and scraper, wondering how she could see anything with her glasses askew on her face like that. For a moment, he considered going out and offering to help her but then decided against it. After the day he’d had, he wasn’t feeling very chivalrous. Besides, he had a much better view 24
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from up here. He leaned forward, peering through the snow, admiring the way her pants molded against her ass when she leaned across to scrape off the opposite side of the windshield. Finally, when she’d climbed into her freshly de-snowed car and had pulled out of the lot, he turned back to ask Sam about her but the man was gone, replaced by Polly “the ball basher” Stevens. Sexy and sassy, Polly had a reputation for cutting a man down with a stare. “Hey, Polly, where’d Sam go?” “Shift change, big man.” She shrugged and made a show of examining her nails. “He headed home.” Brent nodded. For a moment, he considered asking Polly out for a drink sometime but he swiftly dismissed the idea as insane. The last thing he needed in his life was another heartless bitch. He turned, heading out into the snow-covered parking lot. Waiting for his truck’s engine to warm up, he wiped off the windshield with his gloved hand. He’d lost his icescraper the same day he’d bought it and hadn’t bothered picking up a new one yet. Gazing up into the sky, he grew dizzy as he watched the swirling flakes spiraling downward. No trip to Mario’s for him. He hated driving in the white stuff. He started to climb behind the wheel when he noticed something lit up, sticking out of the snow. He walked over, bent down and picked it up. A pager. Her pager. Little Miss Coat of Many Colors. Brent smiled, recalling the sappy old country song his mom had loved so well. He turned the pager over and in the dim lights from the parking lot, he could read, L. Smythe. So the lady was a Smythe. Made even more sense that the old man would buy the cops off and let his daughter, or granddaughter maybe, get away with whatever illegal activity she’d gotten herself involved with. He pocketed the beeper. Once he got home and out of this cold, wet and blowing snow, he’d call the last few numbers. Maybe learn something about the “deliveries” she had to make.
***** Sweet dreams. Aunt Fran’s words of a few days ago came back to Lillian as she lay in bed. Insomnia was one of the worst conditions from which a doctor could suffer. Lillian tossed and turned and tossed and turned for an hour before giving up and getting up. She’d gone to bed extra early, sensing there would be a few babies to deliver over the weekend. Now, however, the thing she needed most was proving elusive. Sweet dreams. Entering her tiny kitchenette, she grabbed a bottle of wine and then thought twice. She was on call, could get beeped or phoned at any minute. She sighed and put the Chardonnay back in the fridge. She thought about eating more of the penis-shaped cake
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that still mocked her from her birthday but decided to watch television instead. Sugar certainly wouldn’t help her sleep. She walked into her cozy, dim living room and hit the power button on the television remote control. Snuggling up on the couch, she hugged a body pillow and rested her head on the arm of the sofa. She flipped through the channels until she came upon one of those home shopping shows Aunt Grace loved so much. She closed her eyes and let the host’s incessant chatter lull her into relaxation. Her King of Swords was a living, breathing man. The man she’d been fantasizing about for days lived in Cary. Well, at least she assumed he did. He sure seemed at home down at the station. Lillian had been so shocked to see him, she’d fallen mute. From now on, when Aunt Fran predicted something, Lillian would pay more attention. Who would have thought a simple set of tarot cards could cause so much turmoil? Lillian had studied her birthday blessing card over and over again while replaying Aunt Fran’s reading in her mind. It was almost as if Fran had conjured the man up. After all, what were the chances she’d meet any of the men on the cards, much less the one she’d been obsessing over? Was he as flawed as Fran predicted as well? Even the faults her aunt had come up with held a certain appeal, though Lillian imagined dealing with them in real life would be much different from her fantasies. Thirty-five and no man. She opened her eyes, her gaze falling on the bookshelf near the window. The box of tarot cards, propped against a stack of magazines, seemed to call out to her. Where had they been manufactured? If locally, maybe that would explain why she’d run into the man at the cop shop. But that didn’t explain who he was or where he came from. Would it hurt for her to check it out? She couldn’t look at the cards again. Every time she touched them, they heated in her hands, which kind of freaked her out. Besides, she didn’t need to look at them. She knew exactly what he looked like, had memorized his every feature. Lillian closed her eyes, picturing him in her mind. Now that she’d actually met the man, he appeared more vivid, more lifelike than ever. Vibrant and virile in all his naked glory. “God, I’m obsessed.” She opened her eyes and sat up. “I wonder what his name is.” Lillian stretched her legs in front of her. She turned her gaze toward the window. “Does he live nearby?” What would it be like to talk with him, outside the police station? Would she see him again? Was he truly her birthday blessing? The one Aunt Fran insisted she’d meet this year? He had to be. The whole thing was too bizarre, too crazy to be a coincidence. Which could only mean, very soon, they’d be dating…sleeping together.
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Sex. She’d thought more on that particular topic in the last week than she had in years. Heck, until recently, she’d hardly realized she missed it. “Now let me see, when was the last time I had an orgasm?” She whispered the last bit and then giggled. She shook her head. How could she talk to other women about their bodies all the time but when it came to her own issues, her own intimate thoughts, she felt embarrassed? She got up quickly, raising her arms and stretching out the kinks. She glanced back toward the bookshelves. She had to know where the cards were made, had to satisfy her curiosity once and for all. Just a quick peek and she’d put them away for good. She reached up and grabbed the carved box, still amazed her aunt had picked out such a racy gift. Lillian’s glasses slid off her nose and onto the floor. She scooped them up, making herself a promise. Next month, she’d go get the damn laser eye surgery. No more old-fashioned, coke-bottle spectacles. It was high time she moved into the twentyfirst century. She shook her head and went back to her spot on the couch. She flipped through the cable stations until she came to one playing soft rock love songs, feeling a little like Aunt Fran setting the mood. The man she wanted was a living guy but did he live close by? Maybe the cards held the answer. Not via another reading but through their manufacturer’s markings. She shuffled through the deck, ignoring the way they seemed to heat and send tiny little sparks through her fingertips. No manufacturer’s name and address. Not a single identifying mark on the whole darned thing. How odd was that? She flipped through the cards, stopping when she found her king. Maybe she could call him Elvis until she learned his real name. And she would learn his real name. No doubt about it. Lillian sighed and shifted until she lay face-up on the couch. He was so hot. He made her so damned hot. The card didn’t do his body justice. Suffused with warmth, Lillian pulled up her negligee, allowing air to reach her overheated flesh. She set the card on top of the couch, between the cushion and the back, where she could still get a glimpse of him. She stretched like a kitten in the sun and closed her eyes. She brushed her palm over her stomach, picturing him watching her, smiling softly, his eyes sparkling with obvious approval. His lips moved and she swore she heard him whisper her name. Lily. The single word held a world of meaning—of sensuous, untold promise—and a chill raced along her arms. “Yes, my love. Yes.” Lillian moved her hand lower. Her legs drifted apart and she dipped her fingers beneath her panties, not surprised to find herself wet. Moaning softly, she stroked her labia. Lightly at first and then with more urgency as her too-longneglected body awoke and demanded more. One hand at her breast, the other between her thighs, she caressed her hardened nipple and rolled her hips, riding a rising tide of pleasure. And all the while, he watched her, his face a mask of quiet concentration. Lily.
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“Yes!” Lillian gasped as the first wave of release crashed through her, sweeping her along to an intense, earth-shattering climax. “Yes!” Eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open, she struggled for breath as a million tiny lights flickered through her mind. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” She repeated the words over and over until her orgasm subsided. Slowly, she came back to herself, awash in a delicious feeling of contentment. Satiated, she curled up on her side, drawing a throw up over her legs. Her eyes drifted closed, then snapped open as her phone rang, jarring her senses and bringing her back from the edge of sleep. She listened to the message on the machine, not surprised to hear Jenny, asking Lillian to come in to the hospital. She lay still for a minute more, trying to recapture the feeling of utter contentment, but already her mind had jumped ahead, mentally preparing for the coming delivery. She sat up, sighing as she reached for the card—his card, started to put it back in the deck, then paused. Holding it up to the light, she turned it this way and that. Had he always looked like that? She shivered as she studied his knowing, cocky grin. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the image on the card hadn’t looked quite so…pleased before. “Maybe I can’t get you in real life. Even if Fran says I will. But here, you’re mine.” She stood, stretched again and prepared to leave for the hospital.
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Chapter Three For some reason the beer didn’t taste quite as good as he’d expected. Brent set the wide-mouthed brown bottle on the scratched end table next to the ugly, worn couch where he sat. The weather had put him in a foul mood. He’d grown up here, knew what to expect when he’d left the warmth of southern Florida but nonetheless, the cold and the wind had been a huge jolt to his system. And his spirits. He glanced toward the kitchen, where his mom puttered at the stove, whistling a vaguely familiar tune. At least she seemed happier with him around. More her old self—even if he did have to be on guard in case she left the tea kettle on for hours and burned the damn house down. “Shit.” He was in a funk, no doubt about it. He took another sip of beer and flipped the remote to another channel on his big-screen television—the only stick of furniture he’d dragged home with him. He surfed the stations for another ten minutes before giving up. Didn’t they have anything decent on the tube on a Friday night, or did they think the whole world went out partying? Brent stared at the newscaster, listening with half an ear, curious as to what happened in the Middle East that day. His cousin Paul was stationed somewhere over there, fighting for the flag. Just as Brent had done. Another swig of beer. Fifteen years had passed since his tour ended. But it seemed like another life, or at least a lifetime ago since he’d been there, playing the superhero green beret. News bytes. He shook his head at the media’s load of crap reporting. He changed the channel one last time, settling on a twenty-four-hour sports station and tossed the remote next to him on the couch. He kicked off his shoes and crossed his feet on the coffee table in front of him. Pulling the pager from his pocket, he flipped it around in his hand. Something just didn’t sit right with the whole situation. The girl looked like a nerd, from her thick glasses to her outdated clothing. She didn’t look anything like the dealers he’d busted in Miami but maybe that was her cover? It’d be easier to look the other way, just as his new colleagues seemed comfortable doing, but Brent could sooner gouge out his eyes than overlook a criminal. People who broke the law deserved to be punished. Period. As he studied the little read-out window, the pager went off, vibrating in his hand. He punched a button on the side and the movement stopped. He punched another button, scrolling through the most recent phone numbers and jotting them down on his police pad. He flipped open his cell phone and punched in the number of the last call. A harried voice answered on the second ring. “Maternity ward.” Maternity ward?
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“Ah, hi.” He swallowed, forgetting the line he’d rehearsed. “You were trying to get a hold of, um, Smythe?” “Yes, I am. Is she there? She needs to get down here and deliver a baby PDQ.” “She’s a doctor?” A beat of silence on the other end and then, “Who is this?” “This is Detective Brent Kennedy. I found her pager lying in the snow down at the station.” “Oh my stars. She lost the damn thing again.” He heard muffled voices, as if the woman had covered the receiver with her hand. “Ma’am?” Brent called out. “Uh-huh?” “Does she live up at Smythton Manor?” “I can’t release that information, sir. If you like, you can return the pager here to the hospital. We’ll make sure she gets it.” “Of course. Sorry. I know how that goes.” “I gotta go help with a delivery. We’re busy here tonight.” Another muffle. “There you are, Lillian, where have you been? Did you know you lost—” He strained to hear her answer but suddenly the line went dead. He looked at the phone to be sure the call had ended and then he laughed. Damn his suspicious hide. L. Smythe was actually Doctor Lillian Smythe. He chuckled again and drank some more beer. She wasn’t a drug dealer, she was a doctor. She was making deliveries all right but not cocaine and heroin. Just babies. He laughed harder and shook his head. Damn, when had he gotten so skeptical and jaded?
***** “Checkmate!” Lillian jumped up and did a small happy dance, hooting and hollering. Grampy’s mind may not be what it once was but he still always beat her at chess. Well, until now. He grinned. “’Bout time you beat me. Harvard educated and you can’t even beat a river rat. ’Bout time, girlie. ’Bout time.” Lillian bent and tweaked his mustache. “You are a little more than a typical river rat, Grampy.” A knock on the library door interrupted them. “This here guy wants to see you, Doc.” Standing in the doorway, Ralph shoved one hand in his striped overalls and hooked the thumb of his other hand over his shoulder. Lillian moved slightly, straining to see past Ralph’s broad shoulders. Seeing who stood behind him, her legs began to quiver and she reached for a chair. The King of Swords! What was he doing here? She caught her breath and managed to get a grip.
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“Thank you, Ralph.” She nodded to the man. “He’s welcome to come in.” Ralph stepped formally aside and gestured broadly with his arm, welcoming their guest into the library. Grampy stood then, curiously eyeing the commotion. The King of Swords strolled into the library and no surprise, Aunt Fran and Aunt Grace trailed in, like groupies, behind him. “Henry Smythe.” Grampy reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose before extending his hand in greeting. “Brent Kennedy.” So, not Elvis. Brent. The man in question looked at Grampy’s germ-coated palm, undoubtedly weighing his options, before extending his hand. Lillian cleared her throat and took a tentative step forward, breathing a sigh of relief to find her legs had lost their spaghetti-like consistency and she wasn’t in danger of falling on her face. “I’m Lillian. I believe we met yesterday. At the station?” Fran and Grace snuck by him. Fran looked saucy today, dressed in purple chiffon loungewear trimmed in red faux fur. She looked like a member of the famous Red Hat Society, although she didn’t belong. Grace, on the other hand, had on a lovely tweed suit but her shoes didn’t match and her blouse was smudged with lipstick. They needed a permanent nurse in the house and soon. Lillian watched Brent study the older women, curiosity and even unease plain on his gorgeously chiseled face. A square face, really. And when he looked back at Lillian, flashing a smile, a dimple appeared in his cheek. I will not faint. No way. He’s just another man. Yeah. Just another guy she’d seen naked. She glanced down, just like she’d done at the station and then quickly looked away. God. She’d never have believed a man could be hung like that in real life. A chuckle escaped her lips and she coughed to cover her mirth. “What can I do for you, Mr. Kennedy?” “Detective Kennedy.” He shifted from one foot to the other and shoved his hands in his pockets. She nodded. “Detective, what can we do for you?” She followed his gaze as it returned to the aunts and then Grampy. They were all staring at him silently, with rapt, wide-eyed fascination. Brent ran his fingers under the collar of his button-down shirt and then up and up some more, over his cropped dark blond hair. It was interesting to watch the effect her family had on a grown man—a cop who shouldn’t get rattled by anything. “Well. I was wondering,” he said, walking farther into the room to stand just in front of Lillian. “Could I maybe, um, that is if you aren’t busy, Doctor Smythe…” “Yes?” Lillian lifted an eyebrow. Spit it out, would you? “Is there somewhere we can talk?” He leaned in closer. “Alone?” “Why are you looking to get my girl alone?” Grampy asked. His stuffy nose muffled his voice. 31
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“Grampy, it’ll be fine. I’m sure he has some business from yesterday to clear up.” She leaned into him “You know…about Grace’s escapade?” “Oh yes. Oh yes.” He nodded, with a wink to Lillian. “I forgot about that.” “Detective Kennedy, would you follow me, please?” she asked. “Remember that card, missy,” Fran called after her. “Just let fate take its due course.” Ignoring the comment, Lillian led Brent out of the wood-paneled room into the dim, wide hallway. Distinctly aware of his presence behind her, she shivered and the image of him, as he appeared on her birthday blessing card, popped into her mind. “This is a huge house,” he said in an awe-spiked voice. “I can’t imagine living here.” “Yes, it’s a big one all right.” Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that. Lillian’s cheeks grew hot and she hurried to explain. “Over nine thousand square feet of heated space, not including the carriage house out back.” “How many people live here anyway?” “Are you interrogating me, detective?” She stopped and turned toward him. Her voice had turned flirty without her even realizing it. She smirked. Oh dear, what was she doing? “No. I’m just amazed, that’s all.” He sent her a look that made her heart flip in her chest. “I always wondered what was inside this house. Now I know.” “It’s broken down into six suites of rooms.” She turned and resumed walking. “Each has a bedroom, bathroom and a sitting area.” She climbed the back stairs to the third floor and stopped at the first door on the left. “Mine has a kitchenette too.” She opened the door to her suite. A whistle from Brent tickled her ear and sent a chill down her spine. He stepped farther inside the spacious apartment. “Look at the view!” Moving past her, he walked toward the east wall, which consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows providing an uninhibited view of Lake Erie, visible past the treetops. “This is incredible.” He’d walked all the way to the windows and plastered his nose up against the glass. He looked like a kid peeking through a candy store window. A very tall, muscular, handsome kid. “Yes,” Lillian said, her gaze dropping to his well-defined ass, “it’s an incredible view.” Brent chose that moment to turn around and Lillian’s cheeks grew warm. She quickly looked away, pinning her gaze on the setting sun, visible outside her window. “What did you want to speak with me about, Detective Kennedy?” “Call me Brent.” Lillian looked back in time to catch the flash of his devastating smile.
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“Okay. Brent.” To hide her fascination with his handsome face and delectable body, Lillian kicked off her shoes, nudging them under a nearby bench. She could feel him watching her and her skin prickled and heated. Did he find her attractive? She glanced up, catching his eye, recognizing the awareness she found there. Damn. He did find her attractive. The thought made her heart race and she clenched her hands into fists at her side. He stepped away from the window, closing the distance between them in a few long strides. “I came to return your pager.” He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her. When their hands touched, Lillian felt a spark of electricity. A shock and she pulled her hand away. She noticed he did the same. Had he felt the current? How odd. “Thank you,” she whispered, setting her beeper on the end table next to her sofa. “Where did you find it?” “In a snow bank. At the police station.” “So.” She crossed her arms across her chest, hoping to hide her aroused nipples. Her whole body was suddenly on fire, as if their touch had sent a current of desire pulsing in her veins. “You could have given me this downstairs. Is there something else you wanted to discuss with me?” “Have we met before?” Lillian met his stare, giving his question serious consideration. Maybe they had met before and that’s why she felt such an immediate, overpowering attraction to him. But after a few moments, she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Not before yesterday anyway.” She didn’t mention the tarot card and the fact she’d become intimately familiar with every detail of his delectable body. Brent made a noise that might have been a grunt of agreement. “You’ve been on my mind since we met. You and your situation here, with Grace.” “Yes?” “Well, yes.” He walked closer. “And now that I have been here, I have to wonder how you do it all? Doctor, care for these people…” “These people are my family.” “Well, sure but don’t you ever get tired? Overwhelmed by all the responsibility?” She did but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. “Do you need something else, Brent? Otherwise I should be returning to those people.” “Yeah, I need this…” He reached out and in one fluid motion had her wrapped in his embrace, pressing his lips against hers. He teased her with a featherlight kiss, entwining his tongue with hers. Lillian’s head spun. One moment, she’d been standing in the middle of the room defending her family and then the next moment she found herself in the arms of a near-
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total stranger. A stranger who tasted like chocolate and peppermint and whose kiss made her knees turn to jelly. And one she had seen naked on a pornographic tarot deck. Despite the warning bells sounding in her head, Lillian leaned into Brent’s embrace. As if driven by a lust-crazed demon, she moved her groin against his upper thigh. Brent responded by dropping his hands, cupping her ass and drawing her closer. His rough fingers bit into her flesh and his rock-hard erection nudged her belly, bringing to mind the image—his image—on her card. She moaned and he deepened the kiss, answering her unspoken need. But when he brought one hand around to the button of her jeans, Lillian gasped and pulled back. “Brent, I’m sorry, I…” Her words trailed off. How could she tell him the kiss had been a mistake, when being in his embrace had felt so right? “Whoa.” He held his hand up and backed away. “Don’t be sorry.” He shook his dark blond head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I kissed you, remember? Hell if I’m going to apologize, though. You should be careful, in fact… I might try it again.” His wicked grin sent a rush of guilty pleasure racing up her spine. Careful, huh? She didn’t want to be careful. The air seemed to spark with energy and she couldn’t help herself. Lillian wanted to fall back into his arms, lose herself in his embrace, drown in his kisses. The attraction she felt for him seemed almost supernatural in strength, beyond her control. Without pausing to consider the consequences, she took a cautious step forward. Brent reached for her without hesitation, drawing her up against his chest, one hand holding her close while he pulled the pins from her hair with the other. His movements were awkward, rough and her eyes teared from the sting in her scalp but she reveled in his magical touch. His touch. How long since she’d allowed herself such pleasure? Too long. Years. She’d been too busy. Busy and alone but as I said, that’s over now. Aunt Fran’s words rang in her head as Brent lifted her in his arms and carried her toward her bedroom.
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Chapter Four Brent hit the wall switch as he entered Lillian’s room, catching a glimpse of surprisingly feminine pink and white decor before she reached over his shoulder and turned out the light. “Leave it off, please,” she said. Her huskily whispered words sent a shiver down Brent’s spine. She could ask him to mow the lawn naked and if she used that tone of voice, he’d be on his way out the door with his ass hanging out. Still, her obvious shyness intrigued him. He’d lived in Miami long enough to form a lasting opinion of independent, wealthy women and that opinion didn’t include an aversion to making love with the lights blazing. Maybe there was more to Ms. Lillian Smythe, MD, than he’d originally thought. Brent crossed to the bed, his gaze going to the outside wall. The bedroom had the same floor-to-ceiling windows, the same spectacular view, as the living area. Out on the lake, ship lights twinkled and a trillion stars covered the sky above. Romantic. The thought caught Brent off guard. “You’re trembling. Maybe you should put me down?” Lillian lightly squeezed his arm. Brent nodded absently, distracted by unfamiliar feelings. Tenderness. Uncertainty. Damn it to hell, where’d all this come from? He suddenly felt like a teenager, intent upon impressing his first love. He shook his head, smiling at such an asinine thought, and gently lowered Lillian to the mattress. She sighed and stretched like a cat. In that moment, all else was forgotten and Brent’s entire being focused in on the beautiful woman before him. “You have the most incredible color hair,” he said, his gaze moving to the shiny tresses spread out on the pillow. They glowed in the light spilling in from the hallway. “It’s brown.” Her delectable lips turned up in a mischievous grin. “Not brown.” He held her gaze. “Chestnut. Amazing auburn highlights, like molten lava. Very hot. Very sexy.” Her smile slipped. “Brent? Will you join me, please? I suddenly find myself eager to feel your body against mine.” By way of an answer, he pulled his shirt loose from his waistband and drew it up over his head. The way she looked at him then… God, so much desire plainly written on her face. His cock grew instantly, ragingly hard. He moved his hands to the button of his jeans, watching her, watching him. As he undid his fly and slid his pants down over his hips, she licked her lips. That small action—moist, pink tongue peeking out between straight, white teeth—made his knees weak.
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Quickly, he shed the rest of his clothing then joined her on the bed. Pulling her into his arms, he held her close as he kissed her, gently at first and then harder, deeper, when she moved against him and moaned. The lights, which had been left off, suddenly flickered to life. He moved away from her momentarily and they shut back off. Their eyes met and they both shrugged. Lillian smiled but her lips quivered. Was she nervous? The thought made him long to put her at ease. He pulled her close and his lips found hers once again, gently teasing, giving her time to relax and grow accustomed to his touch. After a few moments, he slid his hand down her smooth back, cupping her ass and pressing his erection against her stomach. She met his movements, thrusting her hips. Breaking their kiss, she looked into his eyes, panting softly. She held his gaze as she lifted her shirt, pulled it over her head. She tossed it over her shoulder then quickly unhooked her bra. Unable to restrain himself another moment, Brent slid the bra straps down over her creamy white shoulders, exposing her breasts to his view. Her nipples were a dusky pink, hard and extended. Dipping his head, he drew one between his lips, suckling it deep. Lillian gasped. She threw her head back and arched into him, entwining her fingers in his hair. “Oh God. Brent, that feels so good. It’s been so long.” Her words fired his blood. He cupped her other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She reacted by emitting a series of low-pitched moans and grinding her hips against his. He continued suckling her, moving his head back and forth between her breasts, while he reached for her waistband. Undoing her jeans, he slid them down. Lillian kicked her legs, aiding him in his efforts to remove her pants. Brent made quick work of her thong and then reached between her thighs. His fingers sought and found her hot, wet pussy and he caressed her lightly, reveling in the way she moved in sync with each stroke. The bed shook. Brent frowned. What the hell? He lifted his head. “Lillian, do you feel that?” She opened her eyes, wrinkling her brow, a look of careful concentration on her beautiful flushed face. “The bed is shaking.” The lights flicked on again. “Jesus.” Brent pulled away slightly and looked at the overhead light. “That’s annoying. You must have a short. Either that, or this place is haunted.” “Haunted?” Lillian laughed. “There’s no such things as ghosts.” She pulled him back on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist, letting her wet pussy rub against his erection. “Get back here and finish what you started.” The feel of her liquid heat against his cock pushed all thoughts of electrical shorts and ghosts right out of his head. He wanted to bury himself inside her but first he wanted to taste her. He slid down her delectable body until he reached the juncture of her thighs. 36
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“What are you doing?” Her words came on a breathless sigh. “Tasting you.” He separated her legs, caressing her smooth skin as he parted her moist folds with his tongue. Slowly, deliberately he explored her with his lips. Finding her clit, he drew the tiny bud between his lips, while plunging two fingers deep into her hot pussy. Lillian’s hips left the bed and she cried out. Brent moaned against her swollen clit, adding the vibration to the movements of his fingers and tongue. She tasted like heaven, musky sweet and her juices ran freely, coating his chin. He continued to stroke and suckle her, gauging her reactions and adjusting his attentions accordingly, until he felt her start to tense. Quickly he slid up her length. Capturing her lips in a desperate kiss, he buried his throbbing cock in her pussy. The moment he entered her he felt her orgasm explode and like a fist, her muscles contracted and gripped him. She turned her head, breaking their kiss and letting loose a low, keening wail. She wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her nails into his shoulders as he rode her hard, seeking his own release, his head thrown back and eyes screwed shut. His balls tightened and he plunged deeper, pumped his hips faster. He came swift and hard, his entire body vibrating and his limbs growing numb. Lillian took his face in her hands and pulled him down, kissing him deeply, making small, soothing noises deep in her throat. In that moment, with their bodies joined, their gazes locked, Brent realized his life had inexorably changed and from that moment on Lillian Smythe, MD, would own his heart.
***** Lillian closed her eyes, breathing deeply, willing her trembling body to calm down. Her lust-clouded mind cleared, her thoughts focusing in on what she’d just done—what they’d just done—and her throat grew tight. She’d just had sex with a man she barely knew. Unprotected sex. With a stranger. “Oh dear God.” Panicked, she pushed at his shoulders. “Get up, please. Get off of me.” When Brent merely buried his face in her shoulder, nuzzling her neck and nibbling on her earlobe, Lillian wiggled her body, trying to slip from beneath him. Her movements had a decidedly unwanted affect, however. Brent’s flaccid cock, still buried within her, grew hard once more. Lillian groaned as her pussy responded, contracting around his thick length. Brent rotated his hips. “Brent, please. You have to stop.” Lillian bit her lip, hating the pleading note in her voice. The lights flickered again and the wooden Venetian blinds at the windows started rattling, as though a stiff breeze had just blown in off the lake. “Why?” He stared at her, a dazed look on his face.
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“Because this was a mistake.” Brent stilled, his frown deepening. “A mistake?” The lights went out again. “For heaven’s sake, what is with those stupid lights?” She pushed at his shoulders. “We hardly know each other. I should have never let you—” Seeing the flash of pain and then the cool, detached look come into his eyes, she turned her head, unable to continue. Brent pulled out and rolled off her in one swift movement. She watched him reach for his clothing, eyeing his stiff demeanor as he dressed. Shivering, she grabbed the quilt and pulled it up over her head, brutally embarrassed by what she just did. The irresponsibility of her behavior, her disappointment in her lack of good judgment, kept her from reaching out to him, from offering him any words that might ease the sting of her dismissal. Instead, she curled into a ball under the quilt, hoping he would leave fast and praying she’d never have to see him again. When the door slammed she flipped the quilt back down, just covering her shoulders. She stared at the ceiling, wondering what had come over her. She imagined him storming down the stairs and out of the house, followed by the curious stares of her family. Ugh! Despite the heavy blanket, she shivered again. What must they be thinking? Had they guessed what had happened, two floors above their heads? Lillian groaned, adding embarrassment to her growing list of unsettling feelings. How could she have been so stupid? She volunteered at a women’s clinic, for heaven’s sake. A good part of her work included warning women against the perils of unprotected sex. Unplanned pregnancies…STDs…AIDS. Pregnancies. Lillian bit back a sob of fear. Dear Lord. As she often preached to the young ladies who came to the clinic for advice, it only took once. Instinctively her hand moved to her abdomen and she rested her palm there a moment, imagining a new life begun inside. That thought drove her from the bed in a rush of panic. She grabbed her silk kimono from the hook on the back of her bedroom door and slipped it on. What the hell would she do for the next week? She’d have to wait seven days, at the very least, before taking a pregnancy test. Seven whole days. She’d lose her mind. How could she have been so stupid? The light turned on and off, on and off, almost like a strobe. The door to the bedroom slammed open and Lillian jumped aside. Had Brent come back? She didn’t think she could handle a scene at the moment. When no one entered the room, she peeked through the open door, hoping her dogs were the only ones in the suite. But even they weren’t there. She carefully walked into the kitchen area, expecting someone might be hiding, but again there wasn’t a soul. That’s when she heard the whispers. Just barely audible, she heard, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, girlie. Everyone’s entitled to make a mistake now and then.”
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Down the hall, the bedroom door slammed shut. Dear Lord, what the hell was going on? First ghostly apparitions appear out of thin air and then the lights go berserk and doors fly open and shut. Lillian leaned up against the refrigerator and placed a shaky hand to her stomach, suddenly queasy. “Well, Lillian,” she said, “you’ve had sex with a stranger and it seems you’ve got a ghost. Can life get any crazier?” She shook her head, drew a deep, calming breath. Dare she believe Aunt Fran? Was there really such a thing as a ghost? Intrigued by the idea, she looked around the room. “Gramma Smythe, if you’re here, please quit fooling around. You’re scaring me.” Nothing but silence greeted her words. Lillian frowned. So much for communicating with the dead. Her thoughts returned to her experience with Brent. “Seven days. I’ll know for sure by then if he knocked me up.” She thought about taking a morning after pill but something told her to wait. After all, if she was pregnant, she wanted to know…wanted to make an active decision about how to proceed, based on all the facts. Meanwhile, she’d just keep herself really, really busy. And stay far, far away from the too-handsome too-enticing Brent Kennedy.
***** By the time Brent reached the end of Lillian’s long, winding driveway, his anger had faded to mere disappointment tinged with uncertainty. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so soundly dismissed by a woman. Hell, she hadn’t said a word after telling him their lovemaking had been a mistake. He shook his head. How could she say such a thing? Something that felt that good—that right—couldn’t be a mistake. What was her problem? Did she think she was too good for him? Was Lillian Smythe a blue-blooded snob? Had she judged him and found him lacking? Brent held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. He’d thought himself long over the feelings of inadequacy he’d acquired growing up “on the wrong side of the tracks”, but apparently there were still a few lingering side effects he’d need to address. But he’d face these demons head on. He might not have Lillian’s money but he was a good man. Man enough to deserve her. Lillian. Such a stuffy name. And she sure as shit didn’t act like a Lillian in bed. Just thinking about her made him hard again. Those soft noises she made when he thrust inside her, her scent. Damn. “Focus, Kennedy, focus.” He pulled his truck onto the main street that connected the moneyed side of town to his part, wondering if she was still thinking about him too. She was, had to be. Her reaction had been comical, almost virginal. As tight as her pussy had been, he almost believed she was untouched. Except she was too good at it.
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A horn blared behind him. How long had the light been green? He needed to get off the road before he hit someone while daydreaming. He could see the headlines, “Cop crashes while fantasizing about recent sex.” He pulled into the driveway of his childhood home, careful to avoid the two huge holes in the center of the concrete. They might live only a mile apart, he and Lillian, but their neighborhoods might just as well be in different worlds. He gritted his teeth. There it was again—that old self-doubt. He was attractive, worked at building his body, liked to run, actually enjoyed eating vegetables. As a detective on the force, his job was stable, the pay better than average. Hell, he was a nice fucking guy and she’d be lucky to have him. Brent parked next to the single-car garage, locked the car and then went through the back door of the bungalow-style house, glad his mother had remembered to lock the door. She’d gotten careless lately, forgetting to lock up, forgetting a lot of things since being diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease a few months ago. “Mom, I’m home,” he called out. He shut and re-locked the door behind him and tossed his keys on the cluttered counter. “I’m in the living room folding laundry.” Being thirty-eight and having your mother fold your drawers was nothing if not humbling. His ex-wife never even did that. Of course she wasn’t good at much other than sex. And not just with him but with any guy who happened to catch her eye. Until she got pregnant, that is. Then she’d come crawling back to him, her tail between her legs, begging him to forgive her. Yeah, like he’d take on raising some other guy’s kid. “God, I need a beer.” He grabbed a can from the fridge, popped the top and took a long swig. The cold brew hit the spot. Feeling a bit cheerier, he headed toward the living room. “Thanks.” He plopped down on the ratty sofa across from the chair his mom had sat in for as long as he could remember. “It’s me who owes you the thanks, Brent. Doin’ your wash is the least I can do.” He saw the tears in her eyes and he wasn’t sure he could handle hearing more. “I mean it.” She sniffed. “If you hadn’t come home, I don’t know what I would have done.” “Well, that’s what family’s for, Mom.” He took another sip from the tall can. “Barbie can help too.” “Your sister has plenty to do with her kids. She don’t need to be taking on worrying about me too.” She matched up the last pair of socks and then sat back in her chair. “You going out tonight?” “Naw. There will be sport on television. I’m pulling another double tomorrow, so I might just as well stay in tonight.” “When will you have a regular schedule?” She shook her head.
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Brent didn’t answer, knew his mother didn’t expect one. She understood better than most the life of a cop. His dad, her husband of more than forty years, had been on the force his whole life. In the silence that ensued, Brent’s mind wandered. Did Lillian watch football? Did she have any hobbies? He shook his head. If her life were anything like his, she didn’t have time for hobbies. Not with a demanding, full-time job and ailing, elderly relatives. “I’m going to lie down for a while. There’s leftovers in the fridge. Carry this basket up for me when you go, would you?” She patted his shoulder as she passed by. She tired easily, whether a reaction from her medication or the condition itself, Brent couldn’t say. The doctors seemed to have more questions than answers when it came to Parkinson’s. Brent flipped on the evening news, planning to close his eyes until game time. Lillian. The image of her sweet face filled his mind and he relaxed. He had more pleasant, more important things to think about now. Like how the hell he was going to get back in the good graces of his nerdy little rich girl.
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Chapter Five Four days later, Lillian’s nerves were stretched to the max. Since the moment Brent had walked out of her bedroom, she’d done little else but work and obsess over the possibility of being pregnant. She’d even taken to hiding in her room during her off hours, rather than hanging out with her family, unable to face them while her emotions were so out of control. As she crept past the sitting room and up the stairs, she felt like a thief in her own home. She entered her apartment and quietly closed the door behind her. Not bothering with the lock, she headed toward the kitchen, intent on finding leftovers and the rest of the penis cake to eat. Too frazzled and stressed, she hadn’t had a bite all day and her stomach growled in protest. She’d just pulled some leftover meatloaf from the fridge when her front door opened and Grampy stepped inside. “There you are. Been waiting for you to get home. Didn’t see you come in. Didn’t see you come in.” “Is something wrong?” Lillian placed the covered dish on the counter and nervously wiped her palms on her slacks. “Well, that I don’t know. But there might be.” He nodded his head and his unruly gray hair fell over his eyes. “Might be.” Lillian took in his wrinkled brow and tight lips and her heart began to pound. Was someone sick? Had the new live-in nurse quit? She suddenly felt guilty for having avoided her family these past few days. Hell, she hadn’t even taken the time to ask if her elderly relatives were getting along with…what was her name again? Helen Thompson. That was it. She’d come highly recommended and the agency said her resume was spotless. Hardly the type of woman who would just walk off the job, abandoning her charges, but Lillian had heard that line before. She quickly rounded the counter. “Come on, Grampy. Let’s go sit in the living room and you can tell me what this is about.” “Not really sure what it’s about,” the old man said. He shuffled over to the sofa and eased himself down. “Not really sure.” Lillian sighed and joined him on the couch. She patted his age-spotted hand. “Why don’t you just start from the beginning and tell me what you know. Let me decide if there’s a problem.” He released a sigh that came from somewhere deep inside. Had the poor man been shouldering the weight of the world while she was off licking her wounds?
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“Well, yesterday I was down in the front parlor looking through your grandmother’s silver.” He turned his watery gaze toward the windows and blinked rapidly. “You know how I do. Just touching her things now and then makes me feel closer to her. Sometimes I think I smell her, I can almost pretend she’s still here. Almost pretend.” Remembering the misty apparition she’d glimpsed in the hall earlier in the week and the odd things that happened in her suite the other night, Lillian suppressed a shiver. “I know, Grampy. Go on, tell me what happened.” “Well, some’s missing,” he said, turning to Lillian with a sad-eyed frown. “Some’s missing.” Lillian released a relieved sigh. She’d been certain her grandfather was about to tell her he’d seen a ghost. “What do you mean? What’s missing?” “Three serving spoons, a carving knife, a soup urn and two forks.” She held a chuckle. For a minute he was as vibrant as he used to be. Detailed to a fault. “Oh Grampy, you’ve got to be mistaken.” She leaned back on the sofa. “Surely they’re here somewhere. Did you ask Aunt Fran if she had them?” “Why would Frances have your grandmother’s soup urn?” Grampy’s brow furrowed even more. “Well, I don’t know, maybe she’s cleaning them?” Lillian laughed. “All I know is they didn’t get up and walk away all by themselves.” “Didn’t say they did. Didn’t say they did.” Grampy turned back toward the window, his thin shoulders drooping. “C’mon,” Lillian said, taking his hand. “Let’s go find Fran and see if she knows where they are.” Her grandfather slowly got to his feet. He looked so dejected, so worried, Lillian felt another rush of guilt for her recent neglect. “Don’t worry, Grampy,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “we’ll find them. They have to be here somewhere.”
***** An hour later, Lillian stood in the parlor, facing Aunt Grace, who perched on the edge of the faded and tattered settee, her delicate, blue-veined hands primly folded on her lap. Grace looked dressed for a church service, right down to her pill-box hat with its creamy white netting. Except for her mismatched shoes, she’d managed to dress herself to the nines today. “Where are they, Aunt Grace?” Lillian tried to keep her tone even but after finding out Fran hadn’t seen the missing silver and spending forty-five minutes searching the front parlor and the kitchen with Grampy hovering over her, wringing his hands, Lillian wasn’t in the mood for any games 43
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“Where are what, child?” Aunt Grace asked. “Grandmother’s silver. C’mon, Grace. Tell me where you put them.” “I don’t have Mary’s silver.” Aunt Grace’s chin notched up a few inches. “What would I want with those dusty old things?” “You know, I’ve been thinking. I’m missing my ruby necklace too,” Fran said, entering the room. Lillian turned. “Really? When were you going to tell me this?” “And someone took m-m-my sterling silver p-p-pocket watch,” Cousin Larry piped in from his place near the doorway. “Oh for heaven’s sake!” Lillian put her hands on her hips. “Aunt Grace, this has gone far enough. You simply can’t take things that don’t belong to you.” Grace averted her gaze. “I didn’t take any of those things,” she said, her lips quivering. “Why would I?” “Because you’re turning into a regular old cat burglar, that’s why!” Lillian raised her voice, her patience finally gone. Grace calmly got to her feet. Without another word she left the room, chin tilted high, looking for all the world like the Queen of England brushing past a group of unruly, unworthy subjects. Lillian took the spot on the settee Aunt Grace had vacated. She glanced dejectedly at Fran and Larry. “Do you think I was too hard on her?” “Probably.” Fran nodded. “She didn’t take them, you know.” “What do you mean? Of course she did. She’s the only one who would.” Lillian frowned. Aunt Grace was getting worse every day. Maybe it was time to start thinking about putting her in a full-care rest home. The thought brought on a wave of depression. “I know, because I searched her room. My necklace went missing almost three weeks ago and Larry’s pocket watch a little over a week ago. Like you, I thought Grace had taken them,” Fran said. “But her room’s clean. Not a single pilfered item to be found.” “Well, if Grace didn’t take them, who did?” Lillian bit her lip. Maybe… “The nurse!” “Nope. Already thought of that,” Fran said. “In case you have forgotten, we haven’t had the same nurse here for more than a few days in the last two months. The items have disappeared over the course of the last three weeks.” Lillian sighed. Aunt Fran had a point. But if not Grace and if not the outside help, then who? In any case, she owed Aunt Grace an apology. And she’d go find her and give her one—just as soon as she had something to eat. The lack of food couldn’t be helping her reasoning skills and it sure wasn’t helping her mood. She got to her feet. “I’m starving. If you see Grace, tell her I’ll be down to speak with her after I eat.”
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***** Lillian stuffed the last piece of cake into her mouth and then went to find out who was pounding on her apartment door now. She’d no sooner turned the knob than Larry burst into the room, followed closely by Jigs and Trigger. The pups jumped and yipped, begging for attention. “She’s g-g-gone.” “Who’s gone?” Lillian asked, wiping the icing from her lips. She bent down to pat the dogs on their heads, hoping to quiet them down. “Aunt G-g-grace. I went to f-f-find her to tell her what you s-s-said about talking to her after y-y-you ate and her r-r-room was e-e-empty.” In his agitation, Larry’s stuttering was worse than normal. “Calm down, Larry.” Lillian swallowed hard on a sip of milk. “Did you search the house?” “Y-y-yes. She’s n-n-not here.” “How about the garages? Maybe she’s out there tinkering with Grampy’s old Ford. You know how she loves to pretend she’s being driven around the countryside.” “That’s g-g-got to b-b-be where she i-i-is!” Larry’s face brightened. “Let me grab my coat and we’ll go look.” Lillian turned to head down the hall but her cell rang and she detoured toward the kitchen. She scooped the phone up from the counter. She glanced at the number on the display but didn’t recognize the caller. “This is Doctor Smythe. How may I help you?” “Lily? This is Brent.” Lillian’s mouth went dry and a delightful shiver raced up her spine. Tamping down on her body’s crazy reaction, Lillian cleared her throat. “I can’t talk to you right now. Aunt Grace is missing again.” “She’s here.” Lillian caught his words just before she hit the cell’s end button. She brought the phone back up to her ear. “What? Who is where?” “Your Aunt Grace. She’s here with me, playing cards. At the police station.” “Okay,” Lillian said, ignoring the humorous tone in Brent’s voice. “Keep her there. I’ll be right down.”
***** “You know, young man, the deck of cards your picture is on is far more exciting than these plain red ones,” Grace Smythe said as she dealt another hand of five-card stud. “Miss Grace, I don’t know what you mean.” Brent absently glanced at his hand. “You know,” she said, flashing a wink and lowering her voice, “those cards.”
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He stared at her. What in the hell was the old woman talking about? She sure kept a body on their toes. One moment she seemed perfectly lucid, the next moment she floated from one disconnected topic to the next like a ship on Lake Erie during a rainstorm. He looked down at his cards and then up at the black and white clock on the wall and wondered how much longer it would take Lily to get there. He’d started calling her that, Lily. The name suited her much better than stuffy old Lillian. “Ante up, King of Swords.” Grace tossed two dollars on the table. “What did you call me?” Where had he heard that term before? King of Swords. He tossed in a couple bucks, it was worth that just to find out what the hell the old woman was rambling on about. “How many cards you want?” Grace was all business. “Just one.” “I suppose you called her, didn’t you?” Grace passed him the card. “If by her you mean Lillian, then yes, I did.” “She’s not been very nice lately. Not nice at all.” Grace sniffed. “Call.” He made a final bet, matching her quarter, then laid down his hand. “Two pair. Queens and aces.” “That’s a good hand,” she said. “But mine’s better. Three kings. Only one missing is the King of Swords.” She cackled. “There isn’t a king of swords,” Brent said. “Aces, hearts, club and spades. No swords.” “Not in this deck, no,” she answered. “But in Lillian’s naked tarot deck, there certainly is, young man.” “A naked tarot deck?” “Yes, that’s what I said. Do keep up, won’t you?” She removed her hat and set it primly on the table next to her. Her pristine white gloves came off next and she placed them on top of the outdated hat. “You are pictured on the back of one of those cards— naked,” she whispered. “Lillian received them as a gift for her birthday.” He clenched his jaw. What the hell was the woman talking about? Just then, the door to the cop shop breakroom flew open and Lillian breezed in. Brent’s eyes went wide. Gone were her thick glasses. Gone was her shabby, multipatched coat. Someone had been shopping at Pollman’s Department Store. His Lily looked like she just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. “Hello,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look better. Not that he’d seen her a lot. But with flushed cheeks, she looked alive, vibrant. He was possibly as angry with her as Grace but that didn’t change the fact he wanted her. Again.
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“Aunt Grace, are you all right?” Lillian asked. She pulled out a chair and sat at the table between them. “Fine.” The older woman tipped up her chin and looked away. “Aunt Grace, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She glanced at him and then back to her aunt. “Will you come home with me?” “I didn’t take anything.” “I know. I’m sorry I accused you without knowing for sure. It’s just when you go to Pollman’s, you sometimes…borrow things. I thought you were doing that at home too.” “Well, I am not.” Grace stared at Lillian. “Why would I take any of that stuff anyway? I have all I need. You make sure of that, dear.” Grace patted Lillian’s hand. “Let’s go home. I believe I have won all this poor man’s beer money.” Brent watched Lillian help her aunt to her feet. “Miss Grace.” Brent cleared his throat. “Would you let me speak with Lillian for a few minutes before she takes you home? I could get you some coffee, put on the television for you?” “I don’t think—” Lillian said. “You go right ahead, Detective Kennedy. You aren’t related to Jackie, are you? She’s such a snazzy dresser.” Grace moved to the low couch situated before a small, colored television. She grabbed the remote. “I don’t need anything. You two go on ahead.” Lillian stared at her aunt. Brent could almost hear her mind screaming a protest but she didn’t argue. He opened the breakroom door for her and with a hand on the small of her back guided her out into the hallway. “I’d like to speak with you about what happened between us, Lily.” “There’s nothing to say. And I’m worried about Grace. I don’t want to leave her alone for very long.” She smiled as one of the beat cops walked passed them. It was later in the evening but there was still plenty of activity in the station. Brent turned. “Jenkins! Come here a sec.” The young rookie turned and retraced his steps. “What’s up?” “I have to speak with Ms. Smythe a moment. Her aunt is in there.” Brent nodded over his shoulder toward the breakroom door. “I need you to sit with her for a few minutes. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.” “But I—” Ignoring the young cop’s protest, Brent took Lily’s elbow and led her farther down the hall and around the corner. “I disagree,” he said, coming to a stop and turning to look her in the eye. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I think we have plenty to talk about.” “Get a room.” Another cop snickered over his shoulder as he walked by.
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“That’s not a bad idea. Come on.” He took Lily’s arm again and tugged her a few yards down the hall to a row of empty interrogation rooms. “Where are you taking me?” “Somewhere we can talk without interruption.” He opened the nearest door. “After you.” She just stood there staring at him, an uncertain look on her face. “Don’t you trust me?” She averted her gaze and in that moment, Brent had his answer. She didn’t trust him. Or maybe, he thought as she preceded him into the room, she just didn’t trust herself. The thought made him smile inwardly. “Are you on call tonight?” he asked, closing the door. He locked it behind them and then turned a knob near the light switch from green to red, which would let everyone else know the room was occupied. “No. I have the next couple days off.” She moved to the opposite side of the small rectangular table, sitting at one of the four chairs in the room. “What do you do with your free time?” He took off his suit coat and hung it over the back of a chair. As he met her gaze again, he caught her eyes on his chest. Yeah— she didn’t trust herself. Interesting. “Sleep,” she said, shrugging. “Chase my relatives all over Cary.” “Have tarot readings?” “What?” Her eyes grew big and a pretty blush rose on her cheeks. “You heard me.” He leaned forward, stopping just inches from her mouth. She looked at his lips and ran her tongue over her own. “What did Grace tell you?” she asked. “Something about me being a King of Swords on a naked tarot deck.” He rested one hip against the table. “I know she tends to be forgetful sometimes but when she said this she seemed to be pretty lucid.” “How did you end up in nude photos, Brent?” she asked quietly. “So it’s true?” He stood up and shoved his hands in the pocket of his dress slacks. “There is a naked picture of someone who looks like me?” “Not like you, no. It is you. Down to that sword tattoo you have just above your,” she gestured with her hand, “above your penis.” “Does it hurt to say that word?” He laughed. “How about dick? Cock?” “They all mean the same thing, don’t they?” “Do you like it?” “The tattoo?”
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“The whole package.” He grinned, watching her blush deepen. He liked teasing her this way. For someone who was so passionate behind closed doors, she sure did embarrass easily. “You’re handsome. Is that what you’re asking?” “It’s a start, Lily.” He rounded the table slowly, careful not to startle her. “Why do you call me that?” “Because you’re dainty and beautiful like a lily but you’re strong and can withstand a storm, just like a lily too.” “That was beautiful. Do you say things like that to all your women?” He sat on the edge of the table, right in front of her. “There isn’t anyone else. How could there be when this is what you do to me?” He took her hand and placed it on his cock. “Just thinking about your wet pussy makes me hard. I haven’t been able to think of anything else in days.” He expected her to protest, to pull her hand away, to get up and run from the room. But she surprised him by wrapping her warm fingers around his shaft and giving him a gentle squeeze. Brent closed his eyes and moaned, low in his throat. His reaction must have emboldened her, because in the next moment, she unzipped his pants and slipped her hand inside. She took him in her fist and stroked him lightly, from base to tip. Brent groaned. His cock felt ready to explode. “God, Lily.” “That feels good?” she asked, her voice thick but laced with humor. “How about this?” Brent watched through hooded eyes as she lowered her head. She drew him into her hot, wet mouth and he caught his breath. She sucked him deep, scraped him lightly with her teeth. He tangled his fingers in her hair and pumped his hips in time with her bobbing head. She made low, humming noises, the sound vibrating along his aching shaft and his balls tightened. Holy fuck. “Jesus, Lily, you’re killing me.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m going to come.” He didn’t want to…wanted to drag this out, enjoy the feel of her hot mouth and wet tongue on his hard cock for hours. But damn it to hell, they were at the station and besides, her touch drove him to lose all control. She made an excited sound of encouragement and sucked him harder, faster, her warm tongue working frantically against his hard flesh. Brent grabbed her hair, holding her steady as he thrust into her mouth. He threw his head back and released a low, animalistic growl. His cock jerked and quivered. “Yes!” He released her hair, giving her the opportunity to pull back but she continued milking him with tight, deep strokes. “Ahhhh!” He came, hot and hard and she swallowed against his cock then softly stroked him with her lips and tongue until he calmed. Brent dragged her to her feet, pulled her into 49
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his arms and captured her lips with his own. He plunged his tongue in her mouth, kissing her deeply. His heart pounding, he ran his hands up and down her back. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his passion, pressing her breasts against his chest. He wanted to take her right there—throw her down on the table and make mad, crazy love to her—and it took every bit of his willpower to pull away. He held her at arm’s length. Brushing her hair from her face, he met her gaze and smiled. “That was amazing,” he said. “And what’s even more amazing is I want you—I’m hard for you—again. But we can’t stay in here any longer.” She took a step back, her face growing red once more. How could she do that? Act like an untouched virgin one moment and like a beautiful siren the next? And how many more sides to her personality had he left to discover? Whatever the case, he looked forward to getting to know her better, looked forward to having her in his life. That thought, the very idea of another woman in his world on any kind of permanent basis, made his hands shake as he tucked in his shirt and refastened his pants. When he looked up, he caught her staring at him, a hungry look in her eyes. “I should go,” she said abruptly, turning toward the door. “Lily, wait.” He took her arm and gently pulled her back. “When can I see you again?” “I—I don’t know.” She paused and he could almost see her mind churning, sense her confusion. Finally, she spoke. “Soon, I suppose, even if I do tend to lose my mind when I’m in your presence.” He sighed. “If it’s any consolation, that makes two of us.” She nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Give me a day or so and I’ll get in touch with you.” Brent released her arm and smiled. “Good. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
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Chapter Six “Have you seen her again?” Lillian looked up from the newspaper. Aunt Fran was headed to church services, dressed in her Sunday best—a colorful silk blouse and wool pants. She’d tied a scarf at her neck and she wore heels far too high for a woman her age. She looked fabulous. “Gramma Smythe.” Fran snagged the Society page off the table and started scanning for the latest hoo-ha. “Has she appeared to you again?” Lillian laughed and took a sip of her double cappuccino. “I’m not at all certain I ever saw her.” “Why can’t you believe?” Fran continued to rifle through the pages. “Because I’m a doctor, technically, a scientist.” Lillian shrugged. “I question what can’t be proven. I don’t imagine I’d be able to find any concrete evidence of my dead gramma appearing as a ghost.” “I guess that’s why you’re skipping church again? Don’t believe in God either since you can’t prove His existence?” Aunt Fran tossed the paper aside. Lillian opened her mouth to answer but before she could formulate a response, her aunt stood and left the room, her nose in the air. Lillian watched her go, wondering what had the older woman in such a snit. Lillian hadn’t ever been a big church goer. The services bored her. The pastors they got never understood the real world, could never give a sermon she could relate to real life. And feeling a bit guilty over her relationship—if it could be called that—with Brent didn’t help much. Heck, if she walked into a church right now, the roof might fall in. She released a sigh and rubbed her temples. Her judgment was so clouded when she was around him. She did the dumbest things and told herself she’d face the regrets later. But that was the problem—she’d yet to experience any regrets over what she had done. Not yet anyway. If the pregnancy test she planned to take tomorrow came back positive, then she’d have some regrets. Or not. She’d always wanted children. Loved them, really. Kids with Brent Kennedy? She shivered. What did she know about the man? Was he what she wanted—even her type? She hadn’t thought about that in years. How sad to be so out of the dating loop. Was she so old she’d settle for whoever came her way? Is that what she was doing with Brent? Settling for the first man who’d captured her attention in more than half a decade?
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She set the newspaper aside, grabbed her coffee mug and headed upstairs to her own suite. She was on call today, needed to get dressed in case the babies decided to start popping out. Her last date had been almost five years ago. He’d been perfect—on paper. The dating service she’d hired just before her thirtieth birthday hooked her up with three men. They’d all been attractive, smart, successful yuppies. And Lillian had been so disappointed with every one of them, she’d not even bothered to tell her family she’d gone out. The last man she’d brought home had been her college boyfriend Luke, and that had ended when she’d returned early from spring break to surprise him and found him screwing her roommate. In her bed. Yuppie. Did anyone even use that word anymore? She chuckled to herself and shut the door to her suite behind her. She may have ditched the out-of-date fashions and ugly glasses but she still thought like an old person. An old soul. Not exactly how she’d imagined she’d be at only thirty-five years old. Her mind trailed back to Brent. Just who the hell was he anyway? Other than having an incredible body and the ability to make her body turn to mush with just a look, she had no idea who the man was but she had a feeling—a hope really—that he was worth getting to know beyond the bedroom. They needed to talk and soon. He’d been kind to Grace and that meant the world but she didn’t even know if he was married. The thought stopped her cold. Could that be possible? Would he dare dally with her—think he could get away with making her his mistress? She reached for one of the new outfits she’d purchased from Aunt Grace’s store. She yanked the price tag off the sleeve of the jacket with far more force than necessary. How dumb was she? What if the idiot was married? Who was the idiot? She was, that’s who. She didn’t know where he lived, who he lived with. He’d been to her place and she’d seen him at the cop shop. He could already have ten kids. Then what? Panic settled in her stomach and she slumped on the edge of her bed. He’s not married, she told herself over and over again. After a few deep breaths, she calmed the blood rushing to her head. She stood again and headed for the shower, suddenly feeling dumb and dirty. How could she not have all this information before sleeping with the man? She was far too smart to be acting so foolishly. What power did he have over her? Just as she opened the glass shower door to set the water going, her pager beeped. “Great.” She grabbed it from the counter where she’d left it earlier and checked the number, not at all surprised to find the hospital needed her. She turned off the shower then dressed in haste, throwing on the clothes she’d pulled from the closet. No time for a shower, no time to think about the ghosts Aunt Fran believed resided in the manor. And no time to think anymore about Brent Kennedy. That was one good thing about delivering babies—they demanded every single bit of your concentration.
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***** Brent pulled into his driveway just after midnight, dead tired after pulling another double shift, covering for a coworker whose wife just got back from her tour in Iraq. Seemed like the most decent thing to do, since the guy hadn’t seen her in almost a year. All the lights were still on in the house. What was his mom waiting on him for? Surely she wasn’t still awake. After his own tour of duty, he figured she’d become immune to worrying about him enough to lose any sleep. The back door was unlocked and as soon as he walked inside, the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. “Mom!” He tossed his keys on the counter and when his mother didn’t answer, he moved quickly through the house. He called out again and then started going from room to room looking for her. She was on the bathroom floor, with droplets of blood staining the pink throw rug under her head. Thinking the worst, he rushed forward and felt for her pulse. Her heartbeat was weak but at least it was still there. Pulling his cell from his pocket, he punched in 9-1-1 and waited impatiently for a dispatcher to answer. After explaining the situation to the anonymous voice down at the station, he hung up, feeling a tiny bit reassured by their promise an ambulance would be there in just minutes. He brushed his mom’s hair back and examined her head wound. The tiny cut didn’t look life-threatening. She appeared to have simply hit her head and passed out. Or passed out and hit her head. Did her disease cause lightheadedness? Damn it, why couldn’t he remember? He took a deep breath and tried to think what he should do next. His first instinct as her son was to move her, get her in a more comfortable position but his medic training kicked in and he resisted the urge. Instead, he went out into the foyer, opened the front door and turned the porch light on. He then retrieved an afghan from the couch and covered her up, concerned about the possibility of her going into shock. Anything to keep busy—to keep himself from thinking the worst. When the sirens buzzed in the distance, less than five minutes after he’d called the emergency number, he finally started breathing normally. A moment later, three burly paramedics rushed in—men he recognized—and he turned over his mother’s care to their capable hands. He kept an eye on things but stayed out of their way as they checked her vitals and started an IV. When she hadn’t regained consciousness after a few moments, they lifted her onto a stretcher and asked Brent if he wanted to ride along or follow them to the hospital. Needing something to distract him from his fears, he chose the latter. Brent followed the ambulance in his pickup. Keeping one eye on the road, he grabbed his cell, flipped it open, started to dial but before he pressed the send key he changed his mind. He closed his phone and tossed it back on the seat. He couldn’t call
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her now. It was nearly midnight and no doubt Lily was in bed. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder. If he called her, would she come? He picked up the phone again but dialed his sister Barbie instead. When she didn’t answer, he chose not to leave a message. He’d call her first thing in the morning and tell her what had happened in person. He parked in the emergency area and jogged into the emergency entrance just as they were wheeling his mother past the nurse’s station. Several nurses and one doctor met the stretcher and immediately pointed the paramedics toward an empty examination room. Brent was directed to a check-in station where a nurse handed him a clipboard holding a small stack of forms he needed to fill out. He had no idea how to answer most of the questions but he did his best and then handed them back across the counter. “May I see her now?” he asked, hating the uncertain tone in his voice. He wasn’t used to feeling so helpless, so out of control. “Not yet, Mr. Kennedy. The doctors are examining her right now. But if you’ll take a seat, I’ll let you know as soon as you can go in.” She softened her refusal of his request with a bright smile. Brent sat quietly, wondering what they were doing to her. The magazines cluttering the silent waiting room’s tables didn’t interest him, nor did the shopping network on the television. He stood and walked toward the wall of windows that overlooked the darkened parking lot. “Mr. Kennedy?” Brent turned to find an older man dressed in hospital scrubs approaching him. “How’s my mom?” “She’s resting comfortably. I’m Dr. Richards.” He held out his hand and Brent shook it. “I’ll be taking care of her while she’s down here. I expect we’ll be admitting her shortly.” “What’s wrong with her?” “Not sure yet.” The doctor crossed his arms and shrugged. “We took blood work. I saw on the paperwork that she has Parkinson’s. Do you know who her regular doctor is?” “No.” Brent shook his head. “I just moved back here a couple weeks ago. I just know she’s been very tired lately and that the Parkinson’s was in its early stages.” “You found her tonight?” Brent nodded. “I worked a double shift today, came home and found her on the floor passed out. I don’t know if she maybe slipped, hit her head and knocked herself out, or if she passed out and hit her head on the way down.” “Anything is possible at this point.” The doctor shrugged again. “Her pupils are responsive but I’ve ordered a CAT scan. I’m hoping the blood work and the scan will tell us why she’s not waking up. You’re welcome to sit in her room with her until they 54
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come get her for the test. I’ll let you know as soon as I know something.” The doctor patted Brent’s shoulder and walked away. Brent made his way to his mother’s room, sidestepping a nurse as she was leaving. The color had returned to his mom’s cheeks at least, but seeing her like this—hooked up to machines, totally unresponsive—brought a lump to his throat. He swallowed hard and left the room in search of coffee. The nurse pointed him toward vendo-land and soon he was slipping quarters into a hot beverage machine. “Dr. Smythe, Dr. Lillian Smythe, please return to the maternity ward. Dr. Smythe, Dr. Lillian Smythe, please return to the maternity ward.” She was at the hospital! He took his cup of coffee and walked back toward his mother’s room, toying with the idea of paging her himself. She must be delivering a baby—why else would she be here? He peeked in his mother’s room, saw she was just the same as when he left and then walked to the nurse’s station and asked them to call the maternity ward for him. “I’m looking for Dr. Smythe,” he said when a nurse answered the phone. “She can’t come to the phone right now. May I take a message for her?” “Would you tell her Brent Kennedy is in the emergency room and would like to see her when she gets a free minute?” The lady repeated the message, said goodbye and then hung up. Brent handed the phone back to the nurse and walked to his mother’s room. All the lights were out except for one narrow white bulb above the bed. He sat in an empty chair near the bed, stretched out his legs and yawned. He sipped his coffee and silently kept watch over his sleeping mother.
***** “I’m Dr. Smythe,” Lillian told a ward clerk in the ER. “I had a message Brent Kennedy was down here.” She’d been in panic mode since one of the nurses gave her the message. She’d delivered the baby boy and rushed downstairs to see what was wrong with Brent. She’d been thinking the worst, of course. Had he been shot while on duty? Been in a car accident? “He’s in with his mother, Dr. Smythe. Exam room five.” “His mother?” “Yes, she was brought in with a head injury.” Lillian drew a shaky breath. Brent was okay. But what had happened to his mother?
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She made her way to room five. The lights were out and although the door was cracked open, she didn’t feel right about just walking in. She knocked softly and then poked her head inside. Brent sat in a chair next to the bed, his head dipped forward, obviously fast asleep. His mother was hooked to an IV and in the dim light, Lillian couldn’t see much else. She tiptoed over to the counter and picked up the chart, read the little bit of information they had collected so far and then turned to wake Brent. He jumped when she rubbed his shoulder. “Hey,” she whispered. “Hey yourself.” He straightened up in his chair. “What happened?” “When I got home, I found her passed out in the bathroom.” He lived with his mother! “Has she been sick?” “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Wanna get some coffee?” she asked. “I know where the best pot is brewed.” She held out her hand and he took it. She watched him glance back at his mom. “I’ll have them page me if there’s any change, okay?” Brent nodded. She could tell he wasn’t too keen to leave her but from experience Lillian knew nothing would change too fast and if it did, they would just be up a few floors. Lillian spoke briefly to the nurse at the ER station and asked to be notified of any change in Mrs. Kennedy’s condition. “This way,” she said to Brent with a smile. “You’ll see. She’ll be just fine.” She’d glanced at the records, knew there was an issue with her blood sugar but she’d let the doctors tell him that. She led him to the elevators. “Are you hungry?” “Naw,” he answered. “Not really thirsty either. Just damn tired.” “You worked tonight?” He still had a suit on, so she figured he worked the afternoon shift. “I did,” he said. He followed her onto the elevator. When the doors closed she walked into his arms and gave him a hug, resting her cheek against his chest. He responded by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She lifted her head and stood on her tiptoes to give him a gentle kiss. “I thought about you today,” she told him. What an understatement! She hadn’t thought of much else.
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“Me too, Lily.” He kissed her back but withdrew abruptly when the elevator bell chimed. “Where are we going?” “I thought I’d get you some good coffee. Show you some new babies.” She patted his back, wanting to do so much more. “I’ve been busy today.” They stepped off the elevator and she led him into her world. While this wasn’t the only hospital in town, it was her favorite. The nurses liked her, were easy to work with and the facilities were top-notch. “Do you work only at this hospital?” “No, I do all three. This is my favorite though. Closest to the house too.” They reached the nurse’s station at the end of the hall and Lillian introduced him to the nurses sitting there. She couldn’t help but notice the curiosity on their faces when she told them Brent was a close friend but she didn’t elaborate. She led him around the back of the station, into a small room. She could smell the coffee long before she saw it. Someone had obviously just made a fresh pot. And there was a whole tray of bagels, muffins and doughnuts. “The hospital figures we need the calories up here,” she said with a chuckle. She took her favorite mug and filled it with coffee and handed it to him and then did the same for herself. “There’s a sitting area just on the other side of the ward. Let’s go down there.” “Do you have rounds in the morning?” “I do,” she said. “I don’t plan to leave until they figure out what’s up with your mom though.” “But—” “No buts, Mr. Kennedy.” She shrugged. “I do rounds in,” she glanced at her watch, “four hours. I can stay up that long, how about you?” They made it to the baby waiting area, a posh, comfortable sitting room, and sat down across from each other. “How long have you lived with your mom?” “Are you making fun of me?” He sounded tense. Irritable. “Not at all.” She laughed to lighten the mood. “I just had a crazy thought this afternoon that you might be married, that’s all.” “I was. Once.” “How long?” “Three years.” He sat back and stretched out his legs. “I went to Iraq during the first invasion. I was only twenty-one then. Green and stupid.” He took a sip of coffee and set the cup down. “When I came back, she was pregnant by some other guy.” He laughed. “You might have even delivered the kid.” “I just hit five hundred babies, so I guess it’s possible.” She wanted to hear more. “She lives here in town with three kids.”
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“Any of them yours?” “Not a single one.” He shook his head. “Each has a different father.” Lillian decided to let that one go. “So you said you were in Miami for a while. How long have you been back here?” “About a month. Mom was diagnosed with Parkinson’s three months ago. I got the detective job, my dream job and I moved back.” “Congratulations on that.” She smiled. “Parkinson’s wouldn’t make her pass out. I mean, she’ll have tremors, might be unsteady on her feet but it shouldn’t make her faint.” “Thanks for being with me. I called my sister but no one answered.” “You have just one sister?” “Yeah, there’s just the two of us.” He nodded. “How about you?” “I’m an only child. My folks died in a sailing accident when I was very little. Grampy and the aunts raised me.” “Makes sense.” “What does?” “Well, they took care of you and now you’re taking care of them. You’re all obviously very close.” She didn’t answer. It was an astute observation. “Where do you live?” she asked, changing the subject. He laughed. “You don’t want to know.” “I do.” She drank down her last sip of coffee. “Only about a mile from Smythton Manor.” “You’re kidding?” “I’m on the wrong side of the tracks.” Hearing the uncomfortable tone in his voice, Lillian frowned. “The older area? Is that where you grew up too?” “Yep. Lived there until I went into the Marines.” She digested these new tidbits of information, thinking about how different their lives must have been growing up. “What’s your favorite restaurant?” she asked, once again trying to steer the conversation into less controversial territory. “That’s easy. Balducci’s.” “I love their food!” she answered, thrilled that he liked Italian too. Her pager went off and she glanced at the message on the display. “It’s not your mother,” she said quickly. “Maternity needs me. Busy night tonight.” She stood up. “Weather must be changing. Come with me, would you? Might not be anything.” He nodded and followed her back to the nurses’ station. 58
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“You paged?” Lillian asked the duty nurse. “Fischer baby is ready to make an entrance.” “Wow, that was fast.” Lillian turned to Brent. “I’ll be down in a bit to check on things with your mom, okay?” “Sure thing.” They stared at each other, Lillian painfully aware of the nurse staring at them. “Bye.” She wagged her fingers at him and headed toward the delivery room, unable to suppress a grin. He wasn’t married and he lived with his mother. Who would have ever guessed that? Two hours later, after delivering the baby and finishing all the day’s charting and paperwork, she went downstairs. The room Brent’s mother had been in earlier was empty and when Lillian went to the nurses’ station to see what was going on, the duty nurse handed her a folded-up note. She stepped away from the desk and carefully opened the tiny slip of paper. Lily, Mom regained consciousness and is doing okay. Doc says he thinks she has diabetes and that’s what made her faint but they won’t know for sure until all the tests come back. They admitted her, so I went home to shower and catch a few hours shut-eye. I’ll be back at the hospital later today. I’d like to take you to dinner tonight. Meet me at Balducci’s at seven. Brent. Lillian read the note twice before re-folding it and stuffing it in her lab coat pocket and heading back upstairs to the maternity ward.
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Chapter Seven Balducci’s Fine Italian Eatery was located downtown on Main Street, right between the post office and Eddie’s Live Bait and Tackle Shop. Lillian pulled into their backalley parking area fifteen minutes early, hoping to grab a decent table before evening service at All Faiths Church let out. Cary had exactly two decent restaurants and Balducci’s was one of them. On Sunday evenings, they drew a big crowd. If you didn’t get there early enough, you might just find yourself stuck eating at Mickey D’s over near the interstate, because Louie Balducci, the owner, didn’t believe in taking reservations. “First come, first serve,” he always said. Gave everyone a fair chance at the best tables. And Lillian knew exactly which one she wanted. She checked her lipstick in the visor vanity mirror one last time, got out of the car and smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her new wool dress. She’d accented her look with knee-high black leather boots, a red mohair scarf and a pair of dangly ruby and black diamond earrings. With her long tresses swept up in a fashionable hairstyle, she looked like a runway model for some modern French designer. Lillian smiled inwardly. Well, she would look like a runway model, if she were about five inches taller and fifty pounds lighter. The ultra-chic, one-of-a-kind outfit cost her a mint but she’d decided to splurge for the occasion. After all, she hadn’t been on a date—a real date—in years. Which probably accounted for her sweaty palms and too-fast beating heart. Lillian took a deep breath and headed inside the restaurant. “Hey there, Doc. We haven’t seen you here in a while. The baby business must be booming.” Allison, Balducci’s long-time hostess and one of Cary’s biggest gossips, smiled brightly from her place behind the podium. “You might say that,” Lillian said. “How are you, Allison? And how’s little Emily?” “We’re both doing great. Em just got her first tooth and she’s crawling around getting into everything. I’ll have to bring her by to see you sometime soon.” Allison gave Lillian a once-over and flashed a toothy grin. “Judging by the outfit, I don’t guess you’re eating alone tonight?” “Very astute deduction, Watson.” Lillian’s face heated and she fingered the strap of her purse. At Allison’s confused expression, Lillian shook her head. “Never mind. You’re right. I’m meeting someone and I’d like the table over there, near the fireplace.” Allison looked over her shoulder then grabbed a couple of menus from the podium. “Hmm, hot date, huh, Doc? Who’s the lucky guy?” As Lillian followed the nosy hostess through a maze of tables toward the back of the room, she wished she’d suggested to Brent that they meet somewhere away from Cary. By noon tomorrow, half the town would know who she’d met for dinner, what they wore and every detail of the evening, right down to what they’d eaten for dessert. 60
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Not that she cared if people knew she was going out with Brent. She just hated being the topic of conversation, disliked having her life—especially her love life—underneath the microscope. In a town this size, nothing could be kept secret for long but for now Lillian decided to pretend she hadn’t heard Allison’s last question over the restaurant din. “This is perfect,” she said, placing her purse on the floor near her chair. She chose the one that allowed her to face the door, so she’d see when Brent arrived. “Can I get you something from the bar?” Allison asked, placing the menus on the table. “Or would you rather have coffee?” “I think I’ll take an apple martini,” Lillian said. She settled into her seat and absently drummed her fingers on the tabletop, gazing around the room while Allison went to fetch her drink. A moment later, she spied Brent coming through the door. She glanced at her watch. Right on time. Imagine that. She had a feeling he was probably one of those people who was always on time—or early—for everything. He was probably very organized and kept lists…hell, he probably had lists for his lists. God, what if he were truly anal? What if he were a perfectionist and drove her crazy? What if— “Hello, beautiful.” His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine and her doubts slipped away. “Hello yourself,” she said, returning his smile. “How’s your mom?” “Well, she’s complaining about the hospital food, so she must be feeling better but I’ll tell you, I’m concerned about her.” Brent pulled out his chair and sat down. “Her health has been going downhill steady. The Parkinson’s was bad enough but now, if she has diabetes, well, it’s just one more thing, ya know?” Lillian took in the shadows beneath his eyes and the tightness in his mouth. He probably hadn’t slept at all last night. “If there’s one thing I understand, it’s dealing with an aging relative’s health problems. Have you looked into an assisted living home, or considered hiring a nurse to come to the house?” Before he could respond, their waitress arrived, carrying Lillian’s martini. “Hi there.” The young woman addressed Brent, barely glancing at Lillian as she placed her drink on the table. “Hello. I’m Tiffany. Welcome to Balducci’s. What can I get you?” “I’ll take a draft,” Brent said. “Whatever light beer you have on tap.” “Sure thing.” She grinned and batted her lashes a few times. “I’ll be right back.” Lillian watched her sashay away, bemused at how she’d been so soundly dismissed. “I think you’ve made a new fan.” Brent glanced toward the bar. He looked exhausted, his expression blank. “Really? I hadn’t noticed. You have a nurse living at your place, don’t you?”
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“At the moment, no. Helen Thompson has left.” Lillian sighed. “I’ve gone through six nurses in the last three months and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever find one reliable enough to stick around.” “Six in three months? Why so many?” “Good question. They don’t bother giving an explanation, or even giving notice. They just disappear and when I call to complain the agency sends out a replacement.” “Sounds to me like you need to try a different agency. One that screens out the irresponsible losers.” “Believe me, if I could, I would. But unfortunately, they’re the only game in town.” Lillian sipped at her martini. “I looked for an alternative right after I lost my second nurse but there aren’t any other agencies serving this area. It’s a damn monopoly.” “Couldn’t you hire a private nurse? Someone you find and screen yourself?” “That’s probably what I’m going to have to do soon. I just don’t have the time right now to make the inquiries, do the background checks and the interviews.” She glanced up as their waitress returned with Brent’s beer. “Besides, I already told the agency to send out a replacement. She’ll be here tomorrow.” “Are you ready to order?” Tiffany asked, again addressing only Brent. “I know what I’m having but go ahead and ask the lady for her order first,” he said. Tiffany flashed him a wink then turned toward Lillian with a click of her gum. “Fettuccine Alfredo with grilled chicken.” She ordered the same thing she’d always ordered, since the first time she’d come here as a child. “I’ll be damned.” Brent stared at Lillian as he handed Tiffany his menu. “I’ll have the same.” Tiffany scribbled on her pad and was off to the kitchen to place the order. “Two great minds…” Lillian let it trail off, figuring he could fill in the rest. “This place hasn’t changed much,” Brent said, sitting back in his chair. “I remember coming here for wedding receptions right after I graduated high school, before I went to boot camp.” “That’s right. Last night—or rather, very early this morning,” she said, chuckling, “you said you’d tell me more about that.” “Not much to tell, really. I went, I did my duty, I came home.” He stopped as Tiffany put his beer in front of him, along with a basket of Balducci’s famous toasted garlic sticks. “And?” “And what?” He grabbed the basket and took a stick, lathered it in butter and proceeded to stuff his face. Did he realize how sharp his tone of voice sounded? Her stomach balled up and she suddenly regretted coming.
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Brent looked up and his expression softened. He put the bread on his plate and reached for her hand. “I’m sorry to snap.” He rubbed circles in her palm. “Those aren’t some of my better memories. I saw a lot of ugliness over there. Things I’d rather just forget.” “And you’re exhausted.” She smiled. “I can see that. Maybe we should do this another time?” “You gotta be kidding.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ve been waiting all day to see you.” “Really?” she giggled. “Uh-huh. The thought of seeing your smile and those sparkling eyes of yours kept me going all day. And it’s been a long one.” He pressed warm lips to the back of her hand. “Well, that’s what I mean. If you’re tired, we could…” “Shh,” he said, cutting her off. “I came back from Kuwait in ’91, found out my wife—now ex-wife—was carrying a baby who wasn’t mine. I divorced her so she could marry the baby’s father and moved as far away from Cary as I could.” Releasing her hand, he reached for his beer. He took a long drink and then continued with his story. “I liked the warm winters in the Middle East, so I figured Miami would be as good a place as any to start over. I became a cop, finished college with a degree in forensics and here I am. Back to square freakin’ one.” “Is that bad? Being back home?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer. If he hated it hear, chances are he wouldn’t stay. And if he didn’t stay, they definitely had no future together, because Lillian would never leave her family. “Not now it isn’t.” He winked at her and sat back as Tiffany placed their plates in front of them, along with another drink for each of them. Lillian smiled and sipped her second—or was it her third?—martini, thinking about all life’s glorious possibilities.
***** She couldn’t stop giggling. Well, she actually did pause every few seconds but only to hiccup loudly, which would set off another round of giggles. By the time they made it back to her place, her stomach hurt from laughing and Brent kept giving her odd looks out of the corner of his eyes. The way he raised his brow only made her laugh harder. As they pulled up before the house, she waited helplessly, holding her aching side, until he came round the car to open her door. “Come on, Lily.” Brent held out his hand to help her out. “You’re home, safe and sound.” Lillian put her hand in his and climbed from the car but instead of releasing him when she’d gained her footing, she moved in close, wrapping her arms around his neck and staring up into his eyes. 63
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“Br-hiccup-ent. Do me.” She batted her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, wondering if she looked anything like the overly endowed Tiffany. The thought set off another round of giggles. “Do you?” Brent asked. He reached up and gently disengaged her arms from around his neck. “Come on, Lily. Let’s get you inside. I think you’re a little too tipsy to know what you want right now.” She tried putting her hands on her hips and giving him a disapproving look but she swayed on her feet and had to grasp his arm to keep from falling over. “See what I mean?” Brent asked, giving her a rueful grin. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s get inside and then we can talk all you want about my ‘doing’ you.” “Promise?” She dug in her heels when he tried to take her hand and lead her toward the house. Brent turned and scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He buried his face in her neck and nibbled lightly at her sensitive flesh. She shivered with delight and snuggled closer. “Yes, you minx, I promise,” he said, his warm breath tickling her ear. “I promise we’ll talk about it and maybe even do something about it. Now, do you have a back entrance to this place? I don’t much feel like explaining my presence—and your current condition—to any of your relatives.” “Yes,” Lillian said. She nodded toward the right side of the porch. “Around that whiccup-ay.” Brent quickly covered the distance from the car to the back door. Still in his arms, she dug through her pocketbook until she found her keys. She reached down and unlocked the door, then turned the handle. “Slowly,” she said as Brent shouldered open the door. “It squeaks when it gets about halfway open.” Once inside, she nodded toward the end of the hallway. “Back stairs. That way.” They made their way down the dark, musty corridor and started up a set of rarely used steps toward the upper floors. Halfway up, Brent stumbled, throwing them both against the railing. Lillian stifled a cry and closed her eyes, certain they were both about to fall to their deaths, but Brent managed to regain his footing. “What the hell do you have stacked on these steps?” he asked, peering down into the shadows. “B-hiccup-ooks.” Lillian closed her eyes and silently cursed. Damn hiccups. “Books? Who keeps books on the stairs?” Brent shifted her in his arms and continued his upward journey, moving much more slowly, much more cautiously than before.
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“I really don’t know. One of the aunts, I imagine. Maybe Grace put them there and forgot about them.” Lillian looked toward the third-floor landing. Something opalescent shimmered in the darkness. “Br-hiccup-ent! Do you see that?” “What?” “Up there, on the landing. There’s something gl-hiccup-owing.” “Gl-hiccup-owing?” he asked, laughing. “Next time, I’m limiting you to two drinks.” Still staring wide-eyed at the apparition above them, she gave a quick tug on Brent’s hair. “I’m serious. Will you look?!” He must have finally sensed her fear, because he stopped in his tracks and looked over her shoulder. She felt his muscles tense and knew he saw what she saw. A tall, human-like form glimmered at the top of the stairs. “Jesus. What the hell is that?” Brent tightened his arms around her and started backing down the stairs. “We’re—” Before he’d gone two steps, the thing—the ghost—grandmother?—whatever— disappeared. “It’s g-hiccup-one,” Lillian said. “How can you be so sure?” Brent stood frozen on the stairs. “And where did it go?” “Don’t know. Just disappeared. P-hiccup-oof!” Lillian giggled. She squirmed in his arms. “C’mon. You promised you’d do me.” She felt his heavy sigh as he continued up the stairs. “I promised no such thing. I said we’d talk about it,” he said but his voice held no conviction. At the upper landing, she reached down and opened the hallway door, closing it after they’d gone through. “Grampy’s room is right there,” she said, nodding down the dimly lit corridor. “Be qui-hiccup-et in case he’s still up.” “It’s after two in the morning, I seriously doubt the old gent’s still up,” Brent whispered, heading toward her suite. “You don’t know Grampy.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than her grandfather’s apartment door opened and the elderly man stuck his head out. He peered toward them. “Lillian, is that you? What are you doing sneaking in the back way and who do you have with you?” “Shit,” Brent muttered under his breath and Lillian giggled. “Told ya.” She cleared her throat and strove for a sober tone. “It’s just Brent, Grampy, and he’s seeing me home. Go on to bed now. Everything is fine.” “Why’s he carryin’ you? Are you hurt?” Grampy stepped into the hallway as they approached.
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“Lillian had a bit too much to drink,” Brent said. “I’m just making sure she gets to her apartment okay.” “You got my girl drunk?” Grampy puffed out his chest. He looked like a white-feathered rooster, with his mop of hair sticking straight up. Or a mad scientist. Lillian buried her face in Brent’s neck and giggled uncontrollably, which earned her a none-too-gentle squeeze. “No, sir. I didn’t get her drunk. She’s just a little…tipsy. That’s all.” Brent began to move past the old man. “Good night, Mr. Smythe.” “Good night, Gr-hiccup-ampy.” Her grandfather harrumphed and went back into his apartment, slamming his door behind him, and Lillian giggled harder. She’d have some explaining to do in the morning but right now, nothing seemed too serious. She wasn’t pregnant, she’d just had a wonderful date with the most handsome man she’d ever met—a real knight in shining armor kind of guy who made her feel safe simply by being in his presence. And who made her hot with just a look. She rested her head against his chest, breathing in his scent. She wanted to jump his bones but she waited patiently while he let them into her apartment and closed the door behind them. “Bolt it,” she said, nibbling his neck. He smelled so good. A mixture of soap and some kind of cologne she’d never smelled before. Not that she had a ton of experience with men’s cologne. Brent locked the door but didn’t release her. Instead, he headed toward her bedroom. “Are you going to do me now?” she asked, only half-joking. She wanted him. Badly. Enough to make her hands shake and her heart pound. “Don’t call it that,” Brent said, lifting her chin until she met his gaze. “That makes it sound cheap and unimportant.” Feeling suddenly sober, Lillian licked her lips and drew a deep breath. She reached up, cupping his face. “Fine. Make love to me, Brent. Let’s go slowly this time. I want to explore your body, discover what you love—what gives you pleasure.” He dipped his head and she closed her eyes, awaiting the touch of his lips. He kissed her lightly, achingly slow and tender, stealing her breath and bringing a lump to her throat. When he pulled back, she offered him a tentative smile. “Your arms must be getting tired from holding me. Why don’t we move this to the bed?” “I thought you’d never ask.” The evil grin he gave her melted her insides and made her pussy throb. How could just a smile do so much damage? He set her on the bed and she scooted back against the pile of frilly pink and white pillows. “Undress for me,” she said. “I was too nervous last time to really get a good look at you.”
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He raised a brow but did as she asked, starting with his shirt. He undid each button slowly, all the while holding her gaze. They’d left the light on this time and his blue eyes sparkled with warmth. The half-smile he wore spoke volumes. He was enjoying this—putting on a show for her—knowing damn well what the sight of his broad chest and six-pack abs did to her. When he reached the last button, he undid his belt, sliding it through the loops and dropping it on the floor. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks then, as his hands moved to undo the button at the top of his pants, she licked her lips in anticipation. He undid his fly and pulled his slacks down over his lean hips. They fell past his knees and he stepped out of them, standing before her in only his briefs and open dress shirt. His long, thick cock stood at attention, beautifully outlined against the light cotton material. “Come here,” she said, sitting up and reaching out to him. “I need to touch you.” Brent took her hand and joined her on the bed, kneeling before her, waiting patiently while she ran her hands down over his chest, across his stomach. His skin felt warm and firm beneath her fingers, his muscles rippling as she explored his body. “King of swords,” she murmured, tracing the outline of his tattoo with her nail. She dipped her fingertips beneath his waistband, brushing the head of his penis and he sucked in his breath. “Jesus, Lily, you’re killing me.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply. He tasted like the after-dinner drinks they’d had earlier—a spicy-sweet mix of Kahlua and chocolate—and she melted against him, pressing her aching breasts against his chest. He broke the kiss, only to move his attention to her neck, nibbling his way down. She arched her back, holding her breath as he gently mouthed her breasts through her dress and bra. “Oh God, Brent, that feels so good,” she said in a breathy whisper. “I need more. Sit up for me, please.” She did as he asked, trembling slightly when he grabbed the hem of her dress. “Arms up,” he said, as he pulled her dress off over her head. He tossed the expensive designer gown toward the foot of the bed. “Your breasts are deliciously full.” He traced one long finger down the deep valley between them. Lillian shivered, both from his touch and the heat in his eyes. Never before had she felt so treasured, so desired. Felt so much desire herself for any other man. Only Brent seemed able to set her blood on fire with the smallest touch. Needing to feel him, skin to skin, she reached behind her, unhooked her bra then tossed it over her shoulder. She sat still, watching the play of emotions cross his face as he took in the sight of her, naked except for her thigh-high silk stockings and tiny black lace thong. “Beautiful,” he whispered, cupping her breasts, running his thumbs across her sensitive nipples.
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Lillian watched through half-closed eyes as he lowered his head. His hot, wet tongue lashed her hard nipple, sending tiny electric shocks through her system. “Ah, Brent, yes.” She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him close as he suckled her breasts. “Like that.” He pulled her onto his lap, holding her steady with one hand at the small of her back, sliding the other down her belly and drawing goose bumps from her overheated flesh. She lay back, allowing him to support her weight and giving him easy access to her body. His eyes were the deepest blue, like a midnight sky, startlingly intense and warm as he studied her, touched her. He ran his palm down her thigh, then back up the inside and she parted her legs instinctively, lifted her hips. She held her breath as he brushed his hand over her mound, pulled the tiny string material of her thong aside and ran his fingers along her soaking wet slit. Her pussy throbbed, aching to be filled, and she arched her back. “Brent, please.” “Please what?” he asked, holding her gaze. “I need—” She broke off, unable to voice her desires. Her face grew hot with embarrassment. One thing to think such things, another to actually say them but Brent wouldn’t be put off. “Tell me, Lily. Tell me what you need.” She shook her head. She gripped his hand, moving his fingers over the opening to her pussy and lifted her hips rhythmically against him, opting to use actions instead of words to get what she wanted. “Oh no, my little minx.” He teased her slightly, delving one finger just inside her swollen lips. “Not without saying the words.” She let loose a tiny moan, closing her eyes against his sensual onslaught. Brent worked his finger in and out a few times and she gasped, her eyes flying open. “Is that what you need, Lily? Would you like me to finger your pretty little pussy?” His statement sent a rush of liquid between her legs. “Brent, please!” “Say it!” He withdrew his hand, leaving her feeling empty and on edge. “Damn it, Brent. Finger me.” “Finger-fuck me, Brent.” He coaxed her, brushing his fingers over her sensitive clit. “Finger-fuck me, Brent,” she repeated, nearly choking on the words. “Very good. I’m going to help you release that sexy goddess in you—the one you keep locked down tight all the time—if it’s the last thing I do.” He plunged two fingers deep inside her pussy.
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Lillian cried out. She gripped his shoulders and thrust up to meet each inward stroke. He set up a careful rhythm, rubbing her clit with his thumb and bent his head to her breast. “Oh my God.” Lillian gasped as his hot mouth covered her nipple. He suckled her deep, flicking his tongue across the hardened nub. Eyes closed, Lillian panted. Her pussy clenched around his plunging fingers, her womb contracted. “Brent. Oh Jesus. I’m going to come.” He lifted his head. “Open your eyes,” he said. “Look at me, Lily. I want to watch you come.” She stared up at him, wantonly lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. “Oh yeah, baby. Come for me.” He coaxed her. “Let me feel you come on my hand.” She held his gaze, even as her eyes teared and she came, flooding his hand with her juices. She grabbed his head, pulling him down to kiss her. Their lips met, tongues dueling, as her pussy contracted again and again and tiny tremors rippled through her body like aftershocks following an earthquake. Finally, she relaxed, grew limp, satiated by her release. She stroked his cheek, smiling up at him sheepishly. “That was incredible,” she said. “Just what I needed.” “You are incredible,” he said. “So passionate. So fucking sexy.” His words made her stomach flutter. She shifted on his lap, rubbing her ass against his enormous erection. He made her feel sexy. And hungry. A raw, animalistic hunger that gnawed at her insides every time she looked at him. She’d never thought about sex so much in her life. Not even as a teen, when her hormones were raging and all her friends were busy getting their groove on, as the kids called it now. Here she was, a professional, nearly middle-aged woman and the only thing on her mind lately was sex. And not just plain old-fashioned missionary position sex but kinky, let’s-get-out-thewhipped-cream-and-handcuffs, put-me-against-the-kitchen-counter-and-do-me-frombehind sex. “Brent,” she said, speaking before she could consider her words, “I want to ride your cock.” He raised his brow in that way she was learning to know and love. “Do you now?” he asked, wearing a lop-sided grin. “Yeah. So on your back, buster.” She pressed playfully against his chest. “Pronto.” She slid off his lap and shifted over, giving him more room, then waited until he lay beside her. He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes and Lillian licked her lips as she eyed the bulge beneath his briefs. With shaking hands she took hold of his waistband, sliding his underwear down, past his knees and then off. She tossed them aside then turned her attention toward the
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object of her desire. His long, thick cock stood nearly straight up from its nest of blond, curly hair, bobbing proudly in the air. Not daring to look at Brent’s face, for fear of finding him watching her, she reached out, tentatively taking him in her fist. Soft, she thought. Like velvet-covered steel. She stroked him from base to tip, mesmerized by the tiny pearlescent drop of fluid seeping from the head. She bent down, lapped the precum up with the tip of her tongue, drawing a gasped reaction from Brent. She smiled inwardly, loving the feeling of power, of seductiveness. Still holding him in her fist, she reached over the side of the bed and grabbed her purse. Even though she’d gone to her doctor the previous day to be put on birth control, she needed extra protection. She’d chosen the shot and it took at least twenty-four hours to be fully affective. She fished around until she found one of the small foil packets, then tore it open with her teeth, careful not to get anywhere near the thin prophylactic inside. It fell into her lap and she retrieved it, started to put it on him, dropped it again. Her fingertips felt numb and she fumbled with the tiny rolled-up condom for several moments. After what felt like an eternity, she managed to get it positioned just right, placing it over the head of his cock. With surgical precision, she rolled the rubber down, encasing his shaft in a pregnancy-preventing cocoon. Daring a glance at Brent’s face, she was relieved to find his eyes were still closed, though he wore a look of pained concentration, with his brow furrowed and a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead. She could only imagine what it took for him to lie there like that, patiently waiting while she fudged her way through her very first—and God willing, her last—condom application. Thirty-five years old and only just now covering her first cock. Releasing him momentarily, she straddled him, positioning herself just over his groin, one knee on either side. Brent’s eyes were still closed and Lillian made an impatient noise, squeezed his hips with her thighs. “Look at me, baby,” she said. “Please.” His gaze met hers and Lillian’s breath caught. So much passion reflected there. His. Hers. Their combined desire washed over her like an ocean wave, heating her blood and making her pussy weep. She reached between them, took him carefully in her fist and held him steady as she sank down. “Lily.” Her name on his lips felt like a caress. His thick cock stretched and filled her. His blue eyes flashed as he gripped her hips and thrust upward, burying himself to the hilt. Lillian gasped. She let her head fall back as she began to move, slowly sliding up and down his rock-hard length. She rode his cock, fucked him, taking her pleasure at her own pace, until the sensations grew too strong and she lost her rhythm. As if he sensed her need for him, Brent tightened his grip on her waist, lifting her up and down, faster and faster, guiding her movements. He lifted his head, capturing her nipple with his lips and sucking it hard and deep, matching the thrusts of his cock with frenzied stabs of his tongue.
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Lillian wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight, struggling to keep up but then finally allowing him to take her where they both needed to go. His pounding cock went deeper with every stroke, his hard shaft sliding over her sensitive clit, and Lillian cried out as a heart-stopping orgasm tore through her. A moment later, Brent joined her, releasing a guttural cry as he slammed upward, bringing her down hard and holding her there, with his pulsing cock buried deep. “Jesus, Lily. God, that was incredible.” Brent captured her lips in a searing, desperately passionate kiss. Lillian pulled back, gasping for breath. Her whole body shook and her legs felt like rubber bands. She rolled off him, moaning softly as his softening cock slipped free. She fell, spread-eagled, back on the bed. “Holy shit.” She released a shaky breath. “Incredible.” “I am, aren’t I?” She groaned, swatting weakly at his naked chest. His naked, sweaty, chiseled chest. Lillian swallowed hard and tried to think of something else for a moment. Something safer and less likely to cause her a heart attack. The lack of proper rest lately, combined with an unusually high level of emotional anxiety and more alcohol than she’d had in years, suddenly caught up with her. “Sleep,” she murmured, rolling onto her side and snuggling up against him. “I guess I’m staying?” He pulled her into the crook of his arm. “How will you explain my presence at breakfast?” His teasing tone warmed her. “I have an internal alarm clock. Believe me, you’ll be out of here long before Grampy has his morning coffee.” “Such a romantic. Use me, then toss me to the curb. I see how you are.” “That’s me. Love ’em and leave ’em. Now go to sleep. We both have to work tomorrow.” “I feel so used.” Lillian smiled. Lulled by the steady beat of his heart, she drifted off to sleep.
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Chapter Eight “Bye.” Lillian kissed Brent goodbye at the back door, still basking in the afterglow from the night they spent together. Who knew love could be like this? Love? Where did that come from? When he turned back to see if she was still looking, she waved with a smile and then let the lace curtains fall across the window again. “It’s just sex,” she told herself, even though she knew it was a lie. It was high time for her to get moving, she had morning rounds to see to today. Three new babies and their mothers to check on. The scent of coffee wafted down the hallway and she switched her route, planning to fill up a mug before jumping in the shower. As she neared the alcove that led into the spacious kitchen, she heard Grampy yelling at someone. She paused, wondering which aunt was getting chewed out. “Damn it, I’ll get you the money when I can.” He slammed the phone down, the distinctive sound of plastic hitting plastic. Lillian’s heart sank. He had to be gambling again. Why else would he owe someone money? She’d discovered his little habit last year and immediately taken away his credit cards and checkbook. What he’d called a harmless little hobby had actually amounted to more than five thousand dollars in losses. If he was at it again, she didn’t know what more she could do. Her stomach clenched as she thought about the repercussions. A renewal of his habit sure would explain why things had gone missing lately. But would Grampy really pawn his dead wife’s silver for gambling cash? Sell his own sister-in-law’s jewels? Her head started to pound, adding another nail in her already overloaded coffin of stress. She didn’t want to confront him now, although she probably should. The new nurse was coming in a few minutes and all she had on was a robe. Now was not the time to argue with the old man. She took a mug out of the cabinet and filled it with coffee. Grampy wasn’t anywhere to be seen as she poked her head into the breakfast room. Where had the man gone? No matter, she had to keep moving, get dressed before the nurse came and then make it to the hospital in time for rounds. And then to the clinic to see patients and then…
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After showering and dressing in her favorite new skirt and blouse, she retraced her steps, back to the kitchen to wait for the nurse. Grampy sat at the table, reading the morning newspaper. She glared at him until he set it aside. “Good morning,” she said, her tone stiff and disapproving. “What’s got you frowning?” “I thought I would head to the pawn shop on Logan Street today.” She poured the last drop of coffee into her cup and then turned back toward Grampy, leaning a hip against the counter, waiting to see his reaction. “You don’t have time to do that,” he said. “What could you possibly need there?” “I thought maybe I’d find some of Gramma’s missing jewelry there. Maybe some of the silver?” The coffee tasted stale as she swallowed. If she didn’t love the man so much and worry about hurting his feelings, she would go ahead and blurt out her suspicions. “Well, you be careful down there. It ain’t safe for a pretty young thing like you.” He shook his shaggy head. “Not safe at all.” “Have you been down there lately?” she asked. “Nope. Not in years.” She believed him too. That whole area had undergone revitalization. Most of the buildings had gotten face-lifts, coffee shops had popped up on the corners and new trendy businesses had moved in, replacing the run-down warehouses and deserted apartment buildings. The area was anything but dangerous now. But he could have sold the stuff off elsewhere. Maybe it was time to do some investigating. She frowned. Should she ask Brent to help her? She had no idea where to start—no idea even what questions to ask, or to whom. Could she just walk into a pawn shop and ask if they’d seen her grandmother’s silver? “Doorbell,” Grampy said. She’d been so engrossed in plotting her investigation she didn’t even hear the buzzer. She placed her empty mug on the counter then headed toward the front entrance. Peeking out through the glass, she saw a woman dressed in white, waiting on the front stoop. Plastering a smile on her face, Lillian opened the door. “Hello.” “I’m from U-Needa-Nurse.” The woman handed her a business card. “Ingrid Hansen is my name.” “Come in, please. You can set your bags there.” Lillian pointed toward a small room next to the door. “My grandfather is in the kitchen. This way.” She gestured toward the back of the house, surreptitiously checking out the new nurse. Finally the agency had sent her a mature woman. Maybe—fingers crossed—this one would stay longer than a week. “How many invalids are on the premises?” Nurse Hansen asked.
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“Well, they aren’t really invalids.” Lillian spoke over her shoulder as she led the woman down the hallway. “They pretty much take care of themselves. You just have to make sure they take their meds and make sure Aunt Grace doesn’t go wandering off.” “That’s all?” “Yes.” They reached the kitchen. “This is my grandfather, Henry Smythe. Grampy, this is Nurse Hansen.” “How do you do? How do you do?” He stood, shook the nurse’s hand and then sat back down. “He needs to test his blood pressure twice daily and take his pills at the same time.” Lillian handed the nurse a list. “I have two aunts here as well. Fran isn’t in need of any assistance. She’s mature, very eccentric but healthy.” Lillian picked up her coffee mug, remembered she’d drunk it all earlier then sat it back down with a thunk. “My other aunt, Grace, has started to show signs of Alzheimer’s. You’ll need to keep a close eye on her. She likes to take the bus all over town by herself. She gets confused though and usually ends up down on Main Street at Pollman’s Department Store.” Lillian searched her overly taxed mind for any other quick tidbits of information the nurse might need to make it through her first day on the job. “Oh yes. My cousin Larry lives here too. He’s mildly retarded but otherwise healthy.” “Where are all these people?” Lillian checked her watch. “Grampy, can you give Ms. Hansen a tour?” She turned to the nurse. “We all have our own apartments. Tonight, when I get home, I can answer any other questions you might have. I’m really sorry to rush out like this but I need to be at the hospital in just a few minutes.” Lillian grabbed her coat off the chair where she’d set it earlier. “Their pill boxes are all labeled on the counter,” she said, “and the times are listed on the sheet next to it. We have a maid who comes in daily at about ten o’clock. She’s been with us for over twenty years, knows her way around. If you have questions, she and Fran can help you.” “I can too, Lil. I’m not losing it like Grace.” Lillian sighed and kissed her grandfather’s forehead. “You’re right. Your cylinders are all plugging right along. Love you.” She opened the back door but then remembered she needed to tell the nurse one more thing. “My pager is listed on the sheet. That’s the best way to get me. Have a nice day.” Lillian left, feeling a bit guilty at throwing the woman into the fire. She should have taken the day off, made time to help Ms. Hansen get accustomed to her new charges but Lillian simply had no time. One of these days, she needed to slow down. She glanced at her watch again. Ten fifteen. One of these days…but not today.
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She climbed in her car, revved the engine and pulled out of the long driveway, following the tire tracks left earlier by Brent in the dusting of freshly fallen snow. Brent. Just the thought of him made her smile. And flush. What a night! Being in his presence caused her to say and do things she never dreamed she’d say or do. Finger-fuck me, Brent. God. Even the memory of uttering those words made her cheeks grow hot. Maybe, if Ms. Hansen worked out and things in her life calmed down a bit, she’d have more time to explore this new side of herself, experiment with some of her most secret desires. She caught her breath, thinking of acting out some of her crazier fantasies with Brent. There were two, in particular— She gripped the steering wheel and uttered a small prayer that the new nurse would stay.
***** “You have to consider it, Mom. Your insurance will cover it. It’s not like she’ll be babysitting you. She’ll just make sure you get the medicine you need, help you out around here until you get on your feet.” “I don’t want some stranger coming into the house.” His mother crossed her arms over her chest. “I can take care of myself, Brent.” He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated by his mom’s stubbornness, but her reluctance was understandable. She’d always been in control of everything—his life, his sister’s life, her own. Now she felt helpless, didn’t want to rely on anyone, had even argued with Brent when he’d first decided to move back home and help her. “What if you moved into an assisted living type of situation? Just until you’re feeling one hundred percent, and so we can learn how this insulin works?” “You would put me in a nursing home?” Her mouth hung open wide enough to catch flies. “No, Mom.” He shook his head. “An assisted living center. It’s like a nice hotel and only temporary.” “I won’t do it, Brent.” He sighed. “How am I supposed to get you to and from your doctors’ appointments? Barbie has two kids at home yet, how can she haul them and you to the doctor?” They stared at each other, neither giving an inch. “I’m not old enough for a nursing home. I’m not sick enough.” She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. “After forty years, that damn house is finally paid for and I earned the right to die there.” “Geez, Mom, you’re not dying! But you’re right, you have earned that house with all your sweat and hard work. For the next few weeks, you are going to need help, that’s all. Just for a little while.” He was beginning to feel like a broken record. She scoffed and Brent held his tongue. “What about that doctor lady you’re dating? Maybe she’d have a solution.” 75
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“I have the solution, Mom. Lily isn’t going to suggest anything else.” He stood and walked to the bed. “I have to go to the station. I’ll be in to see you after work. The nurses have my number, just in case. I love you.” He kissed her forehead and left the room. Damn stubborn woman. He’d talk to Lillian all right. He’d tell her to back him up on what he just told his mother. She needed to be in a facility with specialists who could help her heal and monitor her health. It would take some pressure off his shoulders too, knowing that when he wasn’t around she was still being well cared for, looked after. The thought of ever coming home again and finding her on the floor… He shuddered. Never, ever did he want to experience that again. Snow still fell lightly as he exited the hospital. He needed to get a move on or he’d be late for work. Being the new guy, he suffered more than his fair share of ribbing from his fellow officers. Like the time he’d worn a flashy tie and the sunglasses he’d worn in Miami. They’d messed with him for days, calling him Don Johnson and asking if he’d been on Miami Vice. He’d get used to it, get into the swing of things eventually. But, for now, he had to try to fit in as much as possible. He pulled his truck out of the parking lot and onto the street that led to the police station, thinking of what he had to do that day. There was a stack of paperwork to get caught up on. One case in particular that had been passed down to him from another detective really needed his attention. And no doubt a million other things would crop up before his shift ended and he could see Lily again. He drove through the police station gates, the thought of Lily’s hot body heavy on his mind.
***** “How did you know I was here?” Lillian greeted Brent with a smile. “I heard you paged overhead. I figured you would be in the maternity ward.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “And I was right.” “Glad you hunted me down.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “How’s your mom doing?” “She just fell asleep, after telling me to leave. She’s feeling well, albeit cooped up. The sugar levels are evened out but her head hurts. She’s on a lot of pain medication.” “Her lousy mood is perfectly understandable. She’s hurting and some of those pills can mess with your mood, so don’t take it personally.” Lillian smiled. “I have two ladies in labor right now. Do you want to hang out with me, or are you ready to go home?” “I can stay for a while.” He shrugged. “You just going to wait for the babies to appear?” “Yep.” She looped her arm through the crook of his. “If I left, they’d be paging me to come right back. I knew they’d be coming tonight. Both mothers were induced this morning.”
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“Is there somewhere we can go to be alone?” he whispered in her ear. “What do you have in mind?” she asked, equally quietly, though her voice trembled. “Oh, this and that…” She took his hand and led him to one of the newly remodeled physician’s suites. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said. “I need to let someone know where to find me. I’ll be right back.” She left him, told the nurses she’d be camping out in the lounge if they needed her, then headed back to join Brent. Her hands shook as she opened the lounge door. How could he still do that to her? It wasn’t like they’d never been together. You’d think she’d be used to being near him, being with him, that he’d no longer have such a strong effect on her. But hell if she didn’t feel as nervous now as she did the first two times they’d been together. The lights were out and for a moment, Lillian stood in the doorway, wondering if she’d inadvertently entered the wrong room. “Close it and lock it.” Brent’s voice came to her through the darkness. Lillian stepped inside. She bolted the door then turned, leaned back against the wall for support. “Brent? What are you up to?” She squinted into the shadows. With no light spilling in from the hallway, she couldn’t see a damn thing. “Oh!” “Easy, baby,” he said, his warm breath whispering along her neck. She relaxed a little, her body instantly responding to his closeness. A warm hand cupped her breast while another slipped around her waist and drew her close. In the pitch black room, with her sense of sight diminished, she felt as if all her other senses were on overload. She felt strangely—excitingly—vulnerable and just a tiny bit on edge. “You make me so fucking hard, baby,” Brent said, dipping a hand beneath her skirt. “I’ve been thinking about your hot pussy for hours.” “You have?” she asked, breathlessly. “Yeah, I have.” He kneaded her thighs, rough and demanding. “And about how much I wanted to fuck you.” Lillian closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall, her whole body vibrating with need. His voice, raw with desire, made it impossible for her to think about anything other than being possessed by him—taken, right there against the wall, with the entire hospital just inches away. He worked his way beneath her thong, skimming her wet pussy with rough fingers. He brushed her clit and she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck as her knees went weak. “You like that, do you?” he asked, plunging two fingers deep inside her hot channel. “Is this where you want my cock, Lily? Do you need me to fuck that sweet little pussy?” 77
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“Yes. God, yes.” She could barely speak. “Fuck me, Brent. Quickly. Please.” He released her for a moment and she stood there, shivering slightly, waiting in the darkness. After what seemed like an eternity, his hands were again at her skirt, hiking the fine silk up around her waist. Strong arms lifted her. Lillian fell forward, gripping his shoulders for support. Almost in one motion, he gripped her thighs, guiding them around his waist, and plunged upward, sheathing his hard cock deep within her slick pussy. Lillian cried out but Brent muffled the sound with a kiss. He moved forward, pinning her between his rock-hard body and the wall. Unable to draw a full breath, Lillian turned her head. Brent turned his attention to her neck, kissing and biting the tender flesh in a way certain to leave marks. But Lillian didn’t care. Couldn’t care or even think about anything beyond the exquisite sensations coursing through her body as he fucked her, pushed into her, stretching her pussy to accommodate his enormous shaft. “You’re so hot and tight,” he said, pressing deeper, grinding deeper, “and always so fuckin’ wet.” Digging her nails into his shoulders, Lillian tossed her head back and forth as her pussy tightened. His cock brushed her clit with every stroke, causing ripple after ripple of pleasure to course through her body. “Jesus.” She closed her eyes against the spiraling sensations. “Oh my God.” “Oh yeah. I can feel your pussy grabbing my cock. Come for me, baby. Let me feel you come.” Brent moved faster, flattening her against the wall with each thrust. His words threw her over the edge of the abyss, spinning out of control. Brent captured her lips and stifled her cries as her pussy pulsed and contracted, gripping his plunging cock. Lillian felt him stiffen, heard his own muffled moans as he came, filling her with his white hot cum. “Hello? Doctor Smythe? Are you in there?” The voice and a knock on the door made Brent and Lillian freeze. “Doctor Smythe, wake up. You’re needed in the delivery room now.” “I’ll be right out,” Lillian said, amazed her voice didn’t waver. “Give me one sec to wake up.” Footsteps sounded in the hallway, fading into the distance as the nurse walked away. “Damn. Great timing.” Brent placed a quick kiss on her lips then slowly pulled out, easing her to her feet. Lillian tried to stand on her own but her legs felt like rubber. She grabbed his arm and steadied herself. “I’ll say. A second or two earlier and she’d surely have heard us.” Then again, who knew how long the nurse had been outside the door? The thought made Lillian’s cheeks hot. She smoothed her skirt, ran her fingers through her hair.
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“Let’s shed a little light on this action.” Lillian blinked rapidly as the florescent overhead lights lit the room. She glanced at Brent, who was busy adjusting his clothing, and then quickly away, feeling a bit like she’d just done something shameful. A second later, he pulled her into his arms. “Don’t look like that.” He murmured against her hair, his warm breath fanning her cheek. “We’re adults. There’s nothing to be ashamed of here.” “We just fucked where I work.” “And the other day, you sucked my cock where I work. This just makes us even.” He was teasing her, she knew, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of being a little dirty, a little…improper. Was that her problem? The impropriety of it all? Or the fact she’d loved it so much? Had responded to him without question, without a care for the possible consequences? Had loved the way he’d talked to her, taken her, fucked her against the wall with no foreplay? Fucked her. The phrase echoed in her mind, loud and unsettling, but she had no time to ponder what it all might mean. “I need to go,” she said, pulling away. “How do I look?” “Like you’ve just been properly fucked.” Lillian flinched. That word again. She pushed the thought from her mind, stood on tiptoe and placed a light kiss on his lips. “I’ll go out first,” she said. “I have a baby to deliver.” She quickly turned away, leaving the room before he could say anything else to distract her.
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Chapter Nine Lillian and Brent slipped and slid their way along the back walkway, nearly falling on the slick, freshly fallen snow. Lillian grabbed the back of Brent’s coat and he grabbed the door jamb, saving them from landing on their rear ends. Lillian laughed. “Someone should be getting this on film,” she said. “We could send it in to that funniest videos show on television.” “Yeah, right. Just what I need. More ammunition for the guys at the station to use against me. I’d never hear the end of it.” “It’s that bad?” Lillian handed him the key and watched as he unlocked the door. “Worse. I’m the new guy on the force, which means I get all the shit jobs they can throw my way, plus all the ribbing I can handle. But you know, Lily, what you said about getting this on film gives me an idea. Why not set up one of those video surveillance cameras? Catch your thief in the act.” “You mean like a nanny cam thing?” She furrowed her brows. “Sure.” He nodded. “But you’d need more than one for a house this size.” “Right.” She nodded and then took off her coat, shaking it to remove the snow. She hung both their jackets on hooks inside the back door. They slipped off their wet shoes and then headed down the hall toward the kitchen. “You hungry?” she asked. Brent had waited around for her the four hours it had taken to deliver Mrs. Ferris’ baby and neither one of them had eaten more than a bag of chips all day. By the time they’d left the hospital, Lillian had managed to put their little lounge rendezvous into perspective, attributing her earlier misgivings to a bad case of nerves and the fact she’d never done anything even remotely like that in her life. Since she wasn’t on call that evening, she’d invited Brent to hang out at her house, so he could meet the new nurse and Lillian could pick his brain for ideas on how to catch a thief. “No. Not right this minute. Let’s find your family first.” He slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “It’s awfully quiet here.” “Too quiet, if you ask me.” Most often in the evening the aunts and Grampy sat in the library, watching television together, laughing about old memories. Lillian cocked her head, listening to the heavy silence. Not a single sound came from the ground floor. “Maybe they’re up in their rooms. Come on. Let’s go check.” She took his hand and continued toward the front stairs. “We’ll go by Fran’s suite first.” When they reached the second floor, Lillian stopped before the first door on her left and knocked. She waited a few moments and then she knocked again, more insistent this time. 80
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“They have to be here somewhere,” Brent said. “What about your grandfather’s suite?” “Let’s go see.” They headed up the stairs to the third floor. As they neared Grampy’s apartment, laughter and the sound of raised voices greeted them. “Guess we found them,” Brent said. Aunt Fran’s shrill laughter echoed down the hall and Lillian couldn’t help but smile. “Yes,” she said, “and it sounds like they’re having a party.” They reached Grampy’s door and Lillian rapped loudly enough to get their attention. “Lillian! There you are,” Aunt Fran greeted them with a cheery smile. “We’ve been waiting for you. And Brent. We were just talking about you.” “You were?” Brent asked. Lillian peeked over her aunt’s shoulder. Her entire family, plus the new nurse, was assembled in Grampy’s living room. If they were talking about Brent, no doubt they were talking about nude men, tarot cards and birthday blessings. As Aunt Fran took Brent’s hand and drew him inside, Lillian prayed his sense of humor was in full working order, just in case her relatives decided to rib him about the King of Swords. “Look who’s here,” Fran called out. “Our Lil brought her man with her tonight.” “Our Lil brought her man with her the other night too,” Grampy said. “Or rather, he brought her. He brought her.” “Grampy, please.” Lillian’s cheeks heated as she recalled the night in question. Time to change the subject and get the spotlight off Brent before things got out of hand. She turned her attention toward the new nurse. “Ms. Hansen, how did things go today?” “Everything went very well, my dear.” The nurse smiled. “You have a lovely family.” Lillian took in her relatives’ happy faces and breathed a sigh of relief. They all looked relaxed and content. Even Cousin Larry seemed less anxious than normal. Dare she hope they’d finally found a responsible, reliable nurse who would fit in? “Thank you, Ms. Hansen,” Lillian said, her throat tight, “for everything.” “Ms. H-H-Hansen is taking us to see the Nutc-c-c-racker, Lil!” Larry said. “We’re gg-going to the W-W-Warner Theater in Erie!” “You are? Larry, that’s wonderful.” Lillian beamed. “That’s one of my favorite ballets.” “Mine too,” Brent said. “You like ballet?” Lillian asked, arching a brow. “What? Too refined for a kid from the wrong side of the tracks?”
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“Of course not.” Lillian hurried to cover her faux pax. “I’m just surprised a big, burly cop like you would have any interest in the theater, that’s all.” Brent held her gaze and she feared he’d question her sincerity but after a moment he looked away. Lillian quickly addressed Aunt Grace. “You’re looking especially pretty this evening, Aunt Grace. I love the pink sweater.” “Ms. Hansen helped me pick this outfit.” Grace stood and did a graceful pirouette. “I would never have thought to pair pink with this brown skirt but once I tried them on I knew Ingrid was right. She has a natural eye for fashion.” Ingrid. So the new nurse had managed to win over Aunt Grace. That, in and of itself, spoke volumes about Ms. Hansen’s abilities. Normally the last one to warm up to a stranger, Aunt Grace wasn’t an easy sell. Lillian wanted to jump for joy, her sense of relief was so strong. With her family well-tended, she could concentrate on other things. Like trying out that new leather outfit she’d bought at Naughty Needs the other day. She dared a glance at Brent, only to find him staring at her again, a smoldering look in his eyes. A frisson of desire raced down her spine and her pussy clenched. Lillian cleared her throat. “Well, I’m happy to hear you’re all okay and there were no major glitches.” She forced an overly loud yawn. “I’m beat. I think I’ll take Brent up to my place for a quick snack and then I’ll be hitting the sheets.” “Alone, my dear? How boring.” Aunt Fran shot Lillian what could only be described as a leering grin. “Good night, Fran,” Lillian said, ignoring her aunt’s question. “Good night, everyone. And thank you again, Ms. Hansen. I’ll see you in the morning. I should be downstairs by six.” “Good night.” Her family spoke in near-unison. “Good night,” Brent said, heading toward the door. “It was nice seeing you all again.” Lillian followed Brent out into the hallway and closed the door behind them. “Will you stay? Have something to eat?” she asked him. She held her breath, fearing her earlier comment had offended him more than he’d let on. He seemed particularly defensive about how and where he’d grown up. Surprising, considering she rarely gave it a thought. “Yes,” he said, leaning in to nibble lightly on her neck. “I’m famished.” The meaning behind his words came through loud and clear and Lillian wrapped her arms around his neck and arched her back. He unbuttoned the first two buttons on her blouse and dipped his head, trailing hot kisses along the rise of her breasts. Lillian released a breathy sigh and her eyes drifted closed. “You two still out here?” Aunt Fran popped her head out the door. “By the looks of things, you should really get a room. If Larry catches you making out in the hallway, he’s liable to be scarred for life.”
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Lillian sighed. “Did you need something, auntie dear, or did you just feel like harassing me?” “Actually, I forgot to tell you—I put an invitation to the Cary Charity Ball on your kitchen counter. They named you specifically this year. Must have gotten tired of your grandfather snoring during the awards ceremony.” Lillian sighed. Yet another thing to add to her already busy schedule. “Okay. Thanks, Aunt Fran. And good night.” “Harumph.” Fran closed the door to Grampy’s suite without another word. “Are we really that bad?” Lillian pulled away, adjusting her blouse. “Because that’s the second time we’ve been told to get a room.” Brent laughed and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I think we just might be. God knows, I can’t seem to keep my hands off you for more than a few minutes. Come on. Let’s go satisfy our—hunger.”
***** “Brent, have you ever done anything…kinky?” Lillian looked at a spot just over his shoulder as she asked the question. “Kinky? Such as…?” He loved playing with her like this. Drawing her out…helping her bring her passionate nature to the surface. “Well, you know…kinky…like handcuffs or edible underwear.” She finally looked him in the eye. “C’mere, baby,” he said, taking her hand and drawing her into his arms. Based on something he’d sensed from her earlier, when he’d taken her against the wall at the hospital, he had a feeling he knew where this was going but he needed be sure. “Yes, I’ve done a few things you’d probably term kinky in my life. Why do you ask?” “Oh, never mind…” Her voice trailed off and once again she looked away. “Lily, I asked you a question and I expect an honest answer.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and brought her face close to his, forcing her to hold his gaze. He felt her shudder and the tip of her pink tongue appeared between her lips. Brent smiled inwardly, his suspicions confirmed. His Lily had a thing for dominant men. Sure, she responded to him either way but he noticed something different about her—a different kind of response—when he was more aggressive with her. “I-I-I was just wondering. I’ve never done anything like that. I went to, um, this place and bought, um, something. I thought we’d—” She licked her lips again. “I dunno…maybe role-play or something?” “You bought something? What did you buy?” Still holding her gaze, his fingers still entwined in her hair, Brent began unbuttoning her blouse. “Don’t tell me the debutante bought a set of handcuffs.” “N-No, nothing like that. Just an outfit. A leather outfit.”
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Brent kept his expression blank but inside he was grinning. He finished opening her blouse and then ran a finger down the deep cleft between her breasts. She shivered and her eyes drifted closed. Brent waited a moment then released her. “Put it on.” He took a step back, watching her struggle to assimilate to his sudden demand. “Now?” “Now.” Crossing his arms, he waited while she went to her bureau and opened the top drawer. She pulled out a tiny black leather number and he raised a brow. Never in a million years would he have expected Doctor Lillian Smythe to choose such a hot, downright slutty outfit. He watched through hooded eyes as she slipped out of her clothes then turned away from him—still maintaining a facade of modesty to the last— and put on the corset. The black leather lingerie laced up the front and, cupless, it framed her breasts, lifting and separating them. Brent’s mouth went dry. “Do you have stockings?” He cleared his throat, tried not to show her how affected he was by how she looked. “Garters? Heels?” Wordlessly, she turned back to her bureau and pulled out the desired items. A few moments later, dressed like she’d just stepped off the pages of a bondage fetish magazine, she faced him. “Lovely Lily,” he murmured, “you are every man’s wet dream come to life. Come here.” She crossed the room, coming to a stop just a few feet away from him, her gaze glued to the floor. He contemplated her pose, her silent demeanor. Frightened? Embarrassed? Throwing herself into the role—a role he now knew she wanted to play? Probably a little of all three, he decided, and that’s what he loved about her—the mix of proper and provocative, strait laced and seductive. Her multifaceted personality intrigued and excited him like no other woman ever had…ever could. “Lily, undress me.” He kept his voice low but firm. There were no rules to this new game she wanted to play, so he followed his instincts. She came forward, still not meeting his eyes, and began to remove his clothing. Her hands shook as she removed his suit jacket and dropped it on the floor and then went to work on his shirt and trousers. As she slid his pants and underwear down, she knelt before him, waiting as he lifted first one foot then the other to remove them completely. When she finished, she stayed where she was, on her knees at his feet, and finally met his gaze. Brent struggled to maintain an air of control. She looked so lovely, with her voluptuous breasts exposed to his view, her rosy nipples large and erect. She licked her lips, leaving them moist and inviting. Too inviting to resist. Taking his cock in his fist, he held it toward her, stroking it lightly. Her gaze dropped, following his actions, and she made a small noise in the back of her throat. “Take me in your mouth,” he said. “Suck me.”
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Tentatively, she leaned forward, running her tongue across the head of his cock, lapping at the precum oozing from the tip. Brent pressed forward and she opened, allowing him entrance into her hot, wet mouth. He kept one hand on his shaft, feeding it to her, and grabbed a handful of her hair with the other to guide her actions. Eagerly she sucked him, pulling at him with every outward motion, teasing him with her tongue and teeth. Brent set the pace, thrusting his hips while pulling her head toward him in long, slow, deep strokes. “That’s it, baby, suck me. Mmm, you do that so well.” He closed his eyes, immersing himself in the incredible feel of her lips wrapped around his shaft, of his balls swaying against her chin. God, how he’d love to just explode right now, come in her mouth and let her swallow every drop but the night was young and he really wanted to see how far his Lily would bend in this little game she’d initiated. With a small sigh of regret, he pulled back. “Brent?” She looked up at him, her brow creased in a frown. “Stand up.” He held out a hand to assist her. When she’d gained her feet, he nodded toward the bed. “Lie down. I want to watch you pleasure yourself.” “Pleasure myself?” Her voice held a tinge of amusement and her lips twitched. “Lily! On the bed. Now!” Her eyes went wide and she took a step back…opened her mouth as if to question him or argue but then obviously thought better of it. With a small nod, she turned and did as he’d instructed, reclining on the bed, her back propped by a half-dozen pink, lacey pillows. He walked to the bottom of the mattress and stood at the edge, studying her with what he hoped was an impassive expression. Exerting every ounce of control in his possession, he managed not to crawl up between those incredible thighs and fuck her silly. “Touch yourself,” he said, taking his cock in his fist. “Make yourself come.” Her eyes drifted closed as she began rubbing her breasts, pinching her nipples, rolling her hips. Her lips parted and she moaned softly, obviously losing herself in the moment. Brent stared, his breathing erratic, barely able to contain himself as her hand slid down across her luscious belly and slipped between her legs. She parted her thighs, giving him a straight-on view of her glistening, pink pussy, wet with her juices. Still lifting her hips, she stroked herself, sliding one long finger in and out of her dripping quim, fingering her clit. Her moans grew louder, her actions more frenzied, as her orgasm built. She tossed her head on the pillows, eyes screwed shut, and Brent had no doubt she’d forgotten his presence. Totally unacceptable. Quickly he climbed up between her legs, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head. Her eyes flew open and she gasped, began to struggle but then stiffened and cried out as he plunged his throbbing cock deep in her pussy, burying himself in one swift motion.
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Nearly out of his mind with lust, he pumped his hips, fucking her wildly, like a man possessed. Nothing mattered, nothing compared to the feel of her gripping his shaft, milking him with every stroke. He pressed harder, deeper, her broken sobs and incoherent words of encouragement fueling his lust like dry tinder feeds a white-hot flame. Her long, stocking-encased legs wrapped around his waist, her high heels digging into his ass, pulling him closer. Brent bent his head, nipping at her hard nipples, while he forced one hand between them and fingered her clit. “Oh God. Brent. Please. Oh please.” She writhed beneath him, fighting his grip on her wrists. He lifted his head. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. Brent slowed his pace, held her gaze as he fucked her with long, deep strokes, calming her, controlling her with his cock. “Easy,” he said. “It’s okay. We’ll come together. Will you come with me, Lily?” She licked her lips, nodded, staring at him with a desperate, almost frightened look in her eyes. “That’s it. Grip my cock. Squeeze it with your tight pussy. Feel your pussy getting tighter, baby?” He spoke to her in soothing tones, moving in and out of her with long, languid strokes. “It’s nice, isn’t it? My cock sliding deeper and deeper, filling you…stretching you.” “Yes.” The word came out in a broken whisper. Her pussy clenched against his shaft. “Yeah, I can feel it. You’re almost ready, aren’t you, baby? You’re ready to come on my hard cock.” “Yes.” Again, just the one word but said with such passion, such emotion, Brent thought he’d explode right then. Only the thought of them coming together as one held him back. He continued thrusting his hips, a little faster now, a little deeper, building the tension, carrying them both higher and higher with every stroke. “Are you ready?” he asked her. “Mmm, I’m gonna come in you so hard. Come with me, Lily.” “Yes!” Her body tensed and she cried out. “Ah, that’s it!” With one final thrust, Brent came, his whole body vibrating with the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced. His feet went numb and his vision blurred. Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. The phrase echoed on and on in his mind as he nipped at Lily’s neck, ground his cock deeper within her cum-soaked pussy. He collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck. A cool breeze hit his ass, worked its way up his back. “What the hell?” He raised his head, catching Lily’s wide-eyed stare. “Did you leave the window open?”
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She had a glazed, faraway look in her eyes. “Brent, turn your head. Look. Slowly. Tell me if you see what I see.” The hushed, frightened quality in her voice sent a shiver down his spine. He did as she requested, swiveling his head slowly, until he spotted her. Her—the thing had to be a her—attired in a long, flowing old-fashioned white nightdress, her hair spilling about her shimmering shoulders. “If you see a ghost, we see the same thing,” he whispered. He blinked rapidly, hoping the ethereal image would disappear. “I think it’s my grandmother. In fact, I’m positive.” She shifted beneath him, hiding her face against his chest. “Make her go away.” “Me?” What the hell was he supposed to do about a dead relative spying on them while they were making love? How did you get rid of a ghost, anyway? Just ask them to go away? He started to rise but the image suddenly shifted, glowed a little brighter and then faded away before his eyes. “She’s gone.” He rolled to his side, pulling the blanket up over top of them to ward off the lingering chill. “Talk about freaky.” “I can’t believe you’re this calm,” she said, snuggling up against him. “Most people would run screaming from the room, I think.” “I guess I’m not that easily frightened.” He draped one leg over her thighs, feasting on her warmth. “And I’ve had a few experiences like this before.” She tilted her head up, gazing into his eyes. “You have?” “Yeah. I’ve seen what I guess were ghosts off and on all my life.” The topic made him a little uncomfortable. Hell, a lot uncomfortable. He’d never told anyone any of this. “Last time was years ago, though, when I was overseas.” “Well, you’ve got a lot more experience dealing with this stuff than I do then. My grandmother is the only spirit I’ve had the…pleasure…to meet.” She sighed and her breasts rose and fell against his chest. “I don’t think she likes the idea of us very much.” “Why do you say that?” He raised a brow, amused by her tone. “Well, she only comes around when you’re here and she’s not very…nice…about it. She seems to have an attitude.” “Too bad.” He pulled her closer, tucking her head beneath his chin. “She’s just going to have to get over it, because I’m not going anywhere.” The sound of a door repeatedly banging shut echoed through the apartment and another cool breeze floated through the room. Brent merely pulled the blanket tighter about their shoulders and closed his eyes. “I said I’m not going anywhere. Now good night, Gramma Smythe.” Lily giggled and reached around to stroke his buttocks, making him instantly, ragingly hard. “Mmm, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she quipped.
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“Very funny. If you don’t stop, we’re not going to get any sleep.” “Brent, can I ask you a question?” She continued caressing him and he shifted, sliding his cock against her soft belly. “What’s that?” “How did you end up naked on the back of a tarot card?” “My ex-wife used to take a lot of pictures. She always used to tell me I had a great package, as good or better than the guys in Playgirl. One day, I got sick of her bitching about not having enough money—no matter how much I gave her, it was never enough—so I told her to sell some of the damn pictures.” Of course, he’d never thought it through, never counted on having someone he knew in real life viewing him in all his glory. “Did they pay you well?” She gripped his cock, sliding her cool fingers up and down. “Enough to shut her up for a few months.” He groaned, his eyes drifting shut as he concentrated on her gentle touch. “Lily, you’re killing me.” She slipped down, her head disappearing beneath the covers. As her hot, wet mouth closed around his shaft, he forgot about everything else and lost himself in the essence of Lily.
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Chapter Ten “Thanks for coming by. I’m really glad you got to meet Mom and Barbie,” Brent said. “You’re welcome. They seem like wonderful women.” Lillian went up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on Brent’s lips. “Your mom’s almost ready to leave the hospital, right?” “Yeah and that’s a good thing…and a bad thing,” Brent said, taking her hand and leading her to a relatively secluded sitting area. “Good, because she needs to get out of here before she goes nuts. And bad, because I don’t know what I’m going to do with her once she’s released. I mean, I have to work. She refuses to go into an assisted living center and doesn’t want a private nurse. Who the heck is going to look after her while I’m not home? What if she passes out again or something?” “You know, I’ve been thinking about that—what if you had her move into my house? There’s room and now that the nurse has stayed a whole week already, it seems like a good solution. Just until she’s ready to move around on her own?” Lillian asked, sinking onto a low, narrow sofa. “I don’t know.” He sat across from her on an overstuffed chair. “Well, why not?” Lillian asked. “She seems like a reasonable person. She won’t have to cook, or worry about laundry and cleaning. And that would take some of the stress off you too.” “Have I told you yet how sweet and considerate you are?” He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Just trying to help you out.” She shrugged. “I wonder if she’d consider it. She’s pretty committed to going home. Maybe I can convince her to get in-home care, even if it’s just part-time.” “Why spend money on your own nurse when I have one already?” Lillian captured his gaze. “There’s more to it, isn’t there? You’re thinking we’re moving too fast with our relationship.” “It’s not that at all. Not at all. I haven’t been this happy in a long time, Lily.” He lifted her hand, placing a small kiss on her wrist. “I just don’t think Mom would go for it.” “But you’ll ask her?” she whispered, mesmerized by the warmth of his lips against her cool skin. “Yes. I will. And I’ll be over after my shift tonight and get those cameras hooked up for you, okay?” “You’ll stay?” She flushed. After weeks of being together, why did she get so embarrassed when she asked him if he’d spend the night? 89
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“You bet I will.” He laughed. “Nowhere I would rather be. Come here, you.” He gave a tug and she came up out of her seat. A moment later and she was settled on his lap. “Now,” he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously, “tell me what you want for Christmas.” “All I want,” she said and wrapped her arms around his neck, “is for you to agree to go to the charity ball with me tomorrow night.” “Lily…” “Please?” she coaxed. “You said you have time off work.” “I do but I’m not comfortable at those kinds of functions. I don’t exactly fit in with that crowd.” “You fit inside me just fine.” He tickled her ribs. “You’ve become a regular little hussy, you know that?” “You like it, don’t you?” Her eyes widened and panic swallowed her heart. “I do. I definitely do.” He laughed and kissed her cheek. “You’ve just changed an awful lot since we met. Loosened up.” “Maybe this is the real me? Maybe being with you has allowed me to show my true nature.” “Well, I am honored if that’s the case. It’s a shame if you’ve kept all that passion locked up inside you.” “I’ve never had anyone like you to play with before.” She laughed. “And I do enjoy playing with you.” “Sassy girl.” He pulled her face toward him. “Whoa, buddy.” She pulled back. “I need your answer on this party. How about we just make an appearance? We eat dinner, sit through the awards and then hit the road?” She rested her hands on his chest. “We don’t have to stay for the cocktail hour or the after-dinner party.” “Do I have to wear a tux?” She almost laughed at the dejected frown that marred his handsome face. “You do,” she answered with a nod. “But I’ll make it worth your while when I strip it off you later that night. What do you say?” Her beeper went off. “Damn.” “Saved by the bell.” He chuckled. She frowned, glancing down at the lit LED screen. “I have to call the hospital.” She slid off his lap. “You better get going or you’ll be late for work.” “Not so fast, baby.” He stood and pulled her back into his arms. “You’re not getting away without a goodbye kiss.”
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Lillian closed her eyes and melted against him, briefly forgetting beepers and babies and charity balls. He nudged her lips with his tongue and she opened for him, kissing him deeply. His warm hands cupped her buttocks, molding her body to his, and his enormous erection pressed against her belly. Lillian groaned deep in her throat and pulled away. “God, what you do to me,” she said, licking her lips and drawing a shaky breath. “When you kiss me, time stands still and the whole world seems to slip away.” “I feel the same way, though I don’t think I could have phrased it quite so poetically.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “Until later, sweet Lily.” “Until later.” She started to walk away but then turned back. “Don’t forget to ask your mom about staying at my place.” He nodded but the look in his eyes told her he had other things—more intimate things—on his mind at the moment. Lillian opened her mouth, snapped it shut, then turned and walked hastily away, her heart pounding at the thought of what she’d been about to say. Automatically. Naturally. She’d nearly said the words, thought them now, over and over again in her head. I love you, Brent. Damn. She’d fallen head-over-heels in love. Now what?
***** “The cameras were hung from the ceiling with care, in hopes of catching a thief over here.” Brent laughed at the expression on Lillian’s face. Did she think he’d lost it? “As long as we catch someone stealing something, these will be worth the wad of cash I forked out to get them here,” she said. “At least you got free installation.” Laughing, he crawled off the step ladder he’d used to hang the small plastic cameras in the corners of the library. He’d had his first good day at work, felt like he was finally in the swing of things. Plus, he’d started the day in bed with Lillian and would soon end it the same way. His mother was healing, it had stopped snowing finally and Christmas was only three days away. “Oh, I think I’ll make it up to you somehow.” She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What did you decide about tomorrow night?” She slid her hands lower, resting them on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her palms. “You gonna make me go alone?” He stared at her, trying to focus on her question rather than the raging hard-on brought on by her touch. How could such an innocent caress draw such a carnal reaction? Just being near her made him hard. It was embarrassing, really. Grown men were supposed to have more control. “I promise,” she continued, obviously oblivious to the party she’d started in his pants, “we’ll go for dinner, the awards and then leave.” 91
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She reached under the hem of his T-shirt and stroked her way up to his nipples. They instantly responded, growing achingly hard. “If you say yes, I have a special surprise for you.” “A surprise?” He pulled her against him, just to stop her teasing fingers. Another minute or two of her sweet touch and he’d throw her down on the library rug and tear her clothes off. “Yup,” she said, her voice husky, “a very nice surprise.” “I like surprises.” He gave her a goofy smile, felt a little like a boy just offered a chocolate bar the size of his head. “Then you’ll really like this one,” she said. “My pager and phone are turned off this time. So what do you say?” He let her hang for a moment, let her stew about his answer. She looked so damn cute begging him. “I suppose I can wear a monkey suit for a couple hours.” He tweaked her nose. “You’re worth it.” He lowered his head and trapped her lips with his. Slowly he eased open her mouth, his tongue teasing and tasting her. He stroked her back, moving lower until he cupped her ass and drew her close, pressing her against his hard cock, showing her what she did to him. “God, Brent. You make me so hot and wet.” Her moist, kiss-reddened lips parted on a sigh. “Now that is a compliment.” He pulled away and took a deep breath, trying to regain his senses. “Shall we finish the cameras tomorrow? I know something I would much rather be doing right now.” “Hmmm. Wonder what that might be?” She threw him a sly glance and then her eyebrows drew together. “Did you hear that?” She pulled out of his arms. “Probably just the wind.” In truth, it sounded like a scream but it could very well be the wind. He hoped it wasn’t anything bad—like one of her family members in some kind of trouble. “There it is again. It’s coming from out here.” She hurried out into the hallway. Brent waited a split second before following her. Damn fool woman. Leap first, look later. He opened his mouth to tell her to wait but then stopped, staring wide-eyed toward the end of the hallway. A wisp of white, like a sheer curtain, floated across the archway leading into a dark room at the end of the corridor. He and Lillian stood stock-still and watched in silence as the image disappeared through the doorway. “Shit. Did you see that? She’s back,” he said. She nodded mutely and walked slowly forward. Brent followed her, one hand placed protectively on her lower back. When they reached the end of the corridor, Lillian reached inside the room and hit the light switch, illuminating what appeared to 92
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be an old music room. An antique piano sat against one wall and an enormous harp sat on a rug in the middle of the floor. Chairs and battered old sofas were placed haphazardly throughout and Brent had the illusion of having stepped back in time. He scanned the room. “Nothing,” he said. Lillian made a frustrated sound. “She appears to have disappeared into thin air.” “Wish we would have set up a camera in here. Maybe we could have caught ourselves a ghost on tape.” “Wouldn’t that be something? Irrefutable proof that ghosts exist.” She turned to him. “I can’t believe we’re both so calm about this.” He shrugged and then let out a breath. He’d seen all kinds of crazy things in his lifetime—after serving in the war, he knew ghosts weren’t the worst things one could encounter. He ran his fingers across the harp strings, drawing forth a mellow, if out-of-tune sound. “This house is the perfect setting for things that go bump in the night. I wonder why she’s chosen now to visit? Or have you been seeing her for years?” “Oh only in the last few weeks. And I told you, I think it has to do with us.” Lillian shook her head. “I’m a doctor, a scientist. I shouldn’t believe in ghosts. But lately I’m beginning to rethink my position on a lot of things.” Brent lifted a brow, intrigued by her last comment. “A lot of things, huh? Such as?” She smiled a mischievous smile and Brent felt his cock stiffen yet again. “Such as how many times a day it’s normal for a healthy couple to have sex,” she said, linking her arm with his. “Yeah? What did you conclude?” He allowed her to lead him from the room, totally enamored by her playful, erotic banter. “As many times—and in as many positions—as possible, of course.” “As many positions? That sounds interesting,” he said. “Tell me more.” They passed the library and Lillian reached inside to kill the lights. “Well, I bought a book the other day. The Kama Sutra. Ever hear of it?” she asked as they continued on toward the back foyer. “Ha! Are you kidding me? The Kama Sutra is one of the hottest selling sex manuals out there. Of course I’ve heard of it.” They reached the back landing and Brent engaged the new alarm system Lillian had installed. He entered the arming code, waited for the beep and then turned to Lily. “But what I find hard to believe is my proper little physician walked into a bookstore and purchased such a work. You must have gone out in disguise.” “Hardly.” Lillian laughed. “I ordered it online, of course. What do you think I am, crazy? This whole town would be atwitter about how Dr. Smythe is actually a raving sex maniac who buys lurid erotica in an effort to learn new techniques.”
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“And of course you’d never do something like that, would you?” Brent took her hand and pulled her close. “No. Of course not. I’m a good girl.” “I agree. Of course you are.” He dipped his head, capturing her lips in a deep, hungry kiss. A moment later, he lifted his head and chuckled. “Now,” he said, his voice thick, “why don’t we go upstairs and you can show me everything you’ve learned.” She smiled took his hand and started up the back stairs. “I thought you’d never ask.”
***** He couldn’t get enough of her. No matter how many times he kissed her, touched her, made love to her, his desire for her never diminished. Even now, as she sat naked and cross-legged on the bed, an enormous book open on her lap, he had a hard time containing himself. While she tried to instruct him on the importance of touch and the various positions associated with the ancient sex manual, all he could think about was pressing her back against the mattress, pinning her with his weight and plunging his aching cock into her welcoming pussy. He lay beside her, pretending to listen intently and covertly studied her body. She had the most delectable nipples. Eraser-size and a dusky rose color, they were incredibly responsive. The merest brush of his fingertips or tongue caused her to turn to putty in his arms and when he’d wrap his lips around them and suckle deep, she’d tremble like a leaf in the wind. She’d arch her back and thrust her hips as he fucked her nipple with his tongue and he wondered if he could make her come that way, with no clitoral stimulation, no fingers in her pussy. Perhaps he’d have to test her— “Are you ready to try some of this?” she asked, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Ready?” He reached out and cupped her breast, lifting and testing its weight. “Lily, get rid of the book.” “But aren’t we going to—?” He tweaked her nipple. “Get rid of the book.” “Right,” she said, a little breathlessly and dropped the heavy tome to the floor. “Who needs a book?” Brent leaned up, pressing her down and rolled on top of her. He captured her lips as he rubbed himself against her, reveling in the feel of her soft skin against his, the hard jut of her nipples against his chest, her voluptuous thighs around his waist. His cock felt like a steel rod and he wanted to sink himself into her liquid heat but he held back. Instead, he slid down a little, bringing his face directly in line with her breasts. He took the firm globes in his hands, bringing them together, brushing the hard nipples with his thumbs. Lily sighed and arched to meet his touch, her whole body writhing beneath his. She’d shifted, so her pussy now pressed against his hip and he could feel
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her excitement, her hot, wet juices coating his skin. Her hands were in his hair, pulling, and he knew what she craved but he wouldn’t make it so easy. “What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, pretending to be clueless. He continued stroking her nipples, tweaking them gently. “You seem a little—tense.” “Jesus, you’re killing me.” She squirmed beneath his touch. “Please, Brent, you know—” “What I know doesn’t matter. I want to hear you say it.” He loved this game between the two of them, this forcing of the oh-so-prim-and-proper doctor to reveal her true, sensual nature. “Suck my tits.” Her harshly delivered, crude command sent a tremor through his body and his cock pulsed and throbbed. Bending his head, he drew one hard nipple into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the tip, setting up a careful rhythm—one Lily perfectly mimicked by grinding herself against his hip. Brent took her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently. “Oh Jesus.” She moaned and tossed her head on the pillows. “I need you inside me. Please.” He ignored her, concentrating all his efforts on her breasts, laving them with his tongue, pinching and twisting her nipples. She writhed beneath him, grinding her crotch against his hip. “Brent. I’m going to come. Holy shit…I’m going to come.” He made small, encouraging noises deep in his throat and continued suckling her. He felt her tense, heard her breath catch and then she cried out, yanking his hair so hard tears sprang to his eyes. “Oh my God. Oh my God.” She gasped, drew a shuddering breath. “Brent, that was incredible. I never knew—wouldn’t have thought—” He lifted his head, capturing her lips in a deep, heady kiss. He could feel her juices running down his thigh and he moved slightly, bringing his hard cock in line with her pussy. Still holding the kiss, he slipped inside, burying himself in her welcoming warmth.
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Chapter Eleven “Nice monkey suit. You moonlighting for an escort service?” The idiots Brent worked with found that humorous and laughed right along with Dave Watkins, the cop who’d been giving Brent the most trouble since he’d arrived at the station a few months earlier. He didn’t know if Dave was mad Brent took a job he’d applied for, or if the guy was just an asshole. “Nope.” Brent shook his head but chose not to elaborate. His shift had ended at three. Two hours later and he was just now leaving the station. He’d picked up the rented tux on his lunch hour and had no choice but to get ready there before going to the manor to meet up with Lillian. He could have gotten ready there of course but time was a factor. Dinner was seated promptly at six. “So where are you going?” Dave persisted in questioning him. “To dinner.” Now shut the fuck up. “Must be some fancy dinner.” “It’s Christmas.” Brent didn’t even bother saying goodbye. He just walked out the side door of the police station where his pickup was parked, dreading the charity dinner but anticipating the private party he’d have with Lily afterward. She never failed to amaze him. Just thinking of her made him happy, made the rest of the crap he was forced to deal with seem less important. He climbed into the truck and started the engine to warm her up before getting out again to brush off the three inches of powder-like snow covering the windshield. Miami was looking pretty good right now. Except there wasn’t anyone like Lily in Miami. He finished scraping, crawled back in the warm vehicle and pulled out of the drive, thinking about what a difference Lily made in his life. Sex had become more than an act. He’d realized as much the first time they slept together. What he felt for her far surpassed simple lust. She was different from everyone he’d ever been involved with— and the exact opposite of his ex-wife. He found himself imagining a future with her, with gold rings to make it permanent and a dozen crazy kids running around that huge manor. A horn blared behind him, alerting him to the light change. What the hell was he thinking? She was so far out of his league money-wise, surely she was just sowing some oats before settling down with a solvent CPA or attorney. Then again…maybe she really did dig him. That thought put a smile on his face.
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He reached the iron gate leading into the property, not at all surprised to find the driveway completely devoid of snow. The caretaker did a nice job of maintaining things. He’d seen the grounds one summer years ago and knew they were beautiful. He punched in the security code and the gates slid open, allowing him to drive up to the house. He parked in his usual spot, a small concrete slab between the house and garage, and left the pickup run. It was a cold night, no need for Lillian to freeze. Remembering the bouquet of roses he bought earlier, he jogged up the back stairs, walked in the unlocked back door and punched the code into the security box, amazed he remembered all the numbers they had to protect the house. He locked the door behind himself and went up the back staircase to fetch Lily. He knew the house so much better now than when he first came calling. It seemed like years instead of weeks had passed since he came to return her pager. He knocked on the door to her apartment, excited to see what she was wearing. Aunt Fran answered the door, wearing a neon pink feather boa and a huge smile. “Well, hello there, handsome. You sure clean up nice. Are those for me?” She looked at the roses. “Um, no. Sorry.” “I’ll find a vase.” She snatched the flowers right out of his hand and took off for the kitchen, leaving him standing in the doorway. Shaking his head, he walked into the sitting area and found a spot on the sofa. Why did women always make men wait? Lily told him they had to leave no later than five thirty. It was almost five forty-five. He grabbed the television remote and popped on the sports channel, curious which bowl game was on that night. The gate intercom buzzed and, when no one answered it, buzzed again. Brent walked over to the box on the wall, pushed a button and asked who was there. “All Star Limo Service. Does a Lillian Smythe live here?” “Yes. One moment, please.” Brent buzzed him in. “That’s the first part of my surprise.” He turned at Lily’s smooth-as-honey voice. “Wow. You look amazing.” His mouth went dry at the sight of her. She did a twirl for him and he laughed. Dressed in a gold sequined floor-length number, she looked amazing. Her hair was up and she wore diamond earrings and a necklace he figured had cost more than his annual salary. “I could say the same of you, Brent. You look amazing in black.” “Go stand by each other, would you? I’d like to get a picture.” “Aunt Fran, this isn’t the prom,” Lily said.
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“No but you missed your prom, didn’t you? So now’s the time to make up for it.” Fran motioned to them. “Brent, get in closer and hold her tightly. Not that tight. Lillian, turn just a bit. That’s it. Beautiful!” “You didn’t go to prom? How sad,” he said through his pasted-on smile. “Yeah well…” Fran flashed the picture and Lily picked up her purse. “Did you bring an overnight bag?” she asked him. “It’s in the pickup.” He pointed to a small black duffle bag near the door. “Is that yours?” “Yes. Would you mind carrying it down for me? In these heels, I’m not sure I can balance with a bag on my shoulder.” “Sure,” he said, blinded by the flash as Fran snapped several more photos. “So we’re not coming back here at all tonight, huh?” “Oh no.” She shook her head with drama. “I have a night of surprises— remember?” “Right.” He hadn’t thought she’d been serious. “One more picture,” Fran said. “Say cheese.” The camera bulb flashed. “Good night, Aunt Fran. I have my phone with me but don’t call unless it’s an emergency, okay?” “You betcha. You two have fun. Lil, remember your stole.” She handed Lily her mink coat. “Oh and did you see the flowers your young man brought you?” “They’re beautiful, Brent. Thank you.” She gave him a smile that rivaled the camera’s flash with its brightness. “Not as pretty as you.” He slung her overnight bag over his shoulder and followed her from the apartment. “You’re very sweet,” she said over her shoulder. “Thank you for coming tonight. I know it’s not your thing but having you there will mean the world to me.” “My pleasure. Let me shut off the pickup and then I’ll help you into the limo.” He’d never been in a limousine. This experience alone was worth the boring dinner and awards ceremony. He turned the pickup off, grabbed his bag and joined her at the back door. He took her arm and escorted her down the wet sidewalk. The chauffeur stood at the ready, opening the back door as they approached. “Watch your dress,” he said, following her inside the long, sleek car. “I don’t want to sit on it.” “Good evening,” the driver said, climbing behind the wheel. “My instructions are to take you to the civic center, wait and then drive you to the Venus Suites. Is that correct?”
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“Yes,” Lillian answered. “Thank you.” She reached for the champagne. “Brent, would you close the partition please?” “Sure.” She wanted privacy? What did she have in mind? He did as she asked, shutting out the driver from view. “This is a nice ride, huh?” She poured them each a glass of champagne. “Arrive in style,” he said, accepting his glass. “Thank you.” “You want a beer or wine instead?” Lily nodded toward the limo’s bar. “Looks like she’s fully stocked.” “No. This is perfect.” He took a sip then dipped in, placing a lingering kiss on her champagne-sweetened lips. He raised his head, giving her a leering grin. “Will we get the chance to fool around after dinner, maybe? I’ve always fantasized about doing it in a limo. I don’t want to mess up your hair and dress, though.” “I guarantee we’ll have the opportunity later. I always wanted to too.” She raised her glass. “To us and a night of passion.” “I’ll definitely drink to that.” He raised his champagne and they clinked glasses. “Can I tell you what I want to do to you?” “You mean,” she leaned forward, “you wanna talk dirty to me?” “Dirty? Me?” He touched his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes. “Would it be dirty if I said I wanted to lick your hard nipples? Would it be dirty if I said I wanted to suck on your clit? To rub my hard cock along your soaking wet pussy until you beg me to fuck you?” He watched her eyes cloud with passion, sensed her breathing go fast and shallow and he pulled back with a laugh. “Yeah, I figured you’d find that dirty.” “You brat.” She closed her eyes and took a sip of champagne. “Just for that, here’s what I want to do to you. I want to take you in one of the stalls of the woman’s bathroom and suck your balls until you can’t see straight. Then I want to crawl on your lap and ride you until your cock explodes in my pussy.” “Jesus.” Brent wiped a shaking hand across his brow. “We gotta stop. Now. I’m hard as a rock.” He laughed but it wasn’t funny, not at all. If they continued, they wouldn’t arrive at the civic center anytime soon. “And I’m soaking wet. Good thing I decided to wear panties.” “You weren’t going to?” He swallowed. “No. I thought it would be more fun without them, then I chickened out.” “Lily, I—” He glanced up as the limo slowed. “Damn, we’re here already.” “We have all night, sweetheart.” She leaned forward and kissed him just as the limo pulled to a stop in front of the civic center’s main entrance. “Remember to smile. If you frown, more people will talk about you.” “Just who…”
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The driver opened the door, cutting off the question. Brent climbed out first, planning to help her crawl from the limo, but found himself suddenly blinded by the camera flashes and it took a minute for him to adjust to what was happening. The driver helped Lily out and then Brent took her hand and placed it through the crook of his arm. “Smile, Brent,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Smile as if your very life depended upon it.” People were shouting questions at her, treating her like a movie star. It occurred to him suddenly that here in Cary and even in the greater Erie area, she was, indeed, a celebrity. A wealthy, beautiful, single woman, the granddaughter of one of the wealthiest men in the whole state of Pennsylvania. A beautiful, sophisticated heiress. His stomach clenched. Why had he not considered this before? “Dr. Smythe, who’s the stud you’ve got with you tonight?” one of the women carrying a microphone asked. “Brent,” she answered, not elaborating or giving a last name. Good job, Lily! As they walked farther down the purple carpet, more people yelled questions at them but Lily only smiled. He took his cue from her and did the same, smiling and nodding to people as they passed. When they entered the main lobby, Brent looked around in amazement. The huge area had been elaborately decorated for Christmas, with ceiling-high trees bejeweled with ornaments of every color from top to bottom. Brightly wrapped packages filled out the base of the trees and two tables, set up as bars, were next to the entrance to the dining hall. “Can we go find our seats?” he asked. “Yes.” She craned her neck, obviously scanning the crowd. “Who are you looking for?” Was there someone she expected to meet her tonight? “No one.” She smiled. “This place is gorgeous. I don’t remember them doing trees this large last year.” “You come every year?” She stopped at the table and picked up two glasses of champagne, gave him one and took a sip from the other. Her beauty, intensified by the soft glow of holiday lights and candles, made his breath catch in his throat. The look in her eyes told him more about how she felt for him than any words might convey and the depth of her emotions both humbled and frightened him. Why would a woman like her want a man like him? “I haven’t come every year,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “The last three I’ve gone with Grampy.” They strolled arm-in-arm toward the entrance to the floor of the auditorium. He’d watched plenty of community college basketball games here over the years but never even considered attending something fancy like this. “Was your grandfather sad that he wasn’t coming tonight?” She laughed. “He may hate this stuff even more than you.” 100
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“Doubt it,” he whispered in her ear. They entered the auditorium and Brent followed Lily’s lead, nodding and smiling to people who walked by, thankful no one approached them to speak. They stopped before an easel with a map on it and Lily quickly located her name. “Oh my,” she said. “What?” “We’re at the head table. Right in front.” Shit. So much for an early exit and blending in.
***** “It is with great pleasure that I am able to give our annual Humanitarian of the Year award to someone I have known since she was five years old.” Frank Shields chuckled and Lillian had a funny feeling she knew to whom he was referring. “The woman chosen this year is a person who donates her time, talent and treasure to people in need and those far less fortunate than she is. To that end, she donates hundreds of hours a year at the free women’s clinic, to aid in the health and wellbeing of women and children in our community. She sits on the Smythe Foundation and oversees the donation of over one million dollars annually for research at Pennsylvania State University, her alma mater. And she continues with poise and grace to spread the Smythe family legacy both here in Cary and throughout Pennsylvania. Dr. Lillian Smythe, I present this award to you as a thank you from the city of Cary for all that you do to make us proud.” She wanted to puke. Applause erupted around her and she smiled with what she hoped looked like legitimate pleasure. She looked at Brent, relieved to find he had a look of shocked happiness on his face as he clapped louder than anyone and was the first one to stand to give her an ovation. She rose from her seat then walked to the front podium on legs that felt like they were made of jelly. She accepted the award and a kiss on the cheek from Frank Shields. “What a wonderful Christmas gift,” she spoke into the mic. “When I walked in here this evening, I had no idea I was even being considered for this award. Thank you to the Cary Humanitarian Committee for selecting me.” Another round of applause erupted and she racked her brain to come up with something eloquent to say. “Cary has been my home since I was five. I’m scared to admit just how many years that is.” People laughed and she knew it would be all right. When she locked glances with Brent and received a smile, she continued on. “I have to say it was my grandfather, Henry Smythe, who taught me the importance and significance of working with those less fortunate.” She shifted her glance toward the people at the back of the room, people she knew ran the food bank and homeless shelters. “The shelters in this town, the services
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provided by so many to those struggling in the community, are outstanding. The free clinic, where I spend upwards of three days a week, employs four nurses and has a staff of seven volunteer physicians who regularly rotate their services. On any given day, I see twenty patients who otherwise would not have access to health care. “As Frank shared, one of my grandfather’s pet projects is the medical college at Penn State. I think he may donate to them as a thank you for letting me graduate.” The crowd laughed and she relaxed, glad they knew she was joking. “We as a family are, however, glad to share our resources with a college that continues to educate this country’s best and brightest medical students. “I thank all of you here for sharing in this with me and I hope I am able to continue my grandfather’s tradition of philanthropy in the community.” She stepped away from the podium with a nod and smile. Frank Shields guided her aside for the cameraman to snap a formal photo and then she stood between Frank and another man on the selection committee for a newsletter shot. Thank goodness she’d purchased the prettier dress! “I guess we can’t cut out early,” she said as she rejoined Brent. Her hand found his knee under the table. “I’m sorry.” “I’m so damn proud of you, Lily.” He lifted her hand, placing a kiss on her wrist. “What an honor.” Her heart swelled at the pride in his tone. She squeezed his hand then turned her attention to the next speaker. An hour later, Lillian couldn’t sit still another moment. As the waiters came by to pick up their dessert dishes, she placed her napkin on the table and stood. “Let’s go.” Other people were starting to leave, although many would simply go to the lobby area to visit. Grampy would have left as soon as his plate was clean. She’d at least made it a bit longer. As they made their way toward the back of the room, Lillian nodded acknowledgment to several well-wishers but didn’t pause to talk. Cameras flashed and she briefly wondered if her lipstick was smeared all over her face. Brent stayed by her side and when one of the paparazzi asked them to pose together, he pulled her close, cheesing it for the camera. Lillian started to tell him the lady worked for the local paper but then thought better of it. No sense worrying him and besides, he seemed perfectly content being seen—and photographed—at her side, even gave his full name when the photographer asked for it. Lillian slid her hand through the crook of his arm and guided him away through the crowds, toward the front lobby. A moment later, they were back out in the crisp December night. The limo driver had parked up the street a bit. He was standing outside the long, black Cadillac having a smoke. As they approached he looked up, ditched his cigarette and opened the door for them. “Good evening,” he said. “I understand congratulations are in order.”
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“Thank you,” she said, sinking into the fine leather seat of the limo. Brent climbed in after her, taking the opposite seat, and the driver closed the door. He’d left the partition shut and as soon as they were on their way, free of the snapping cameras and nosy eyes, Lillian unzipped the back of her tight-fitting dress and let out a sigh. “You don’t enjoy these kinds of functions any more than me, do you?” Brent’s question brought a smile to her lips. If she had trouble suffering through the last few hours, she could only imagine how it had been for him. He’d gone above and beyond the call of duty to please her and he deserved a reward. Eyes still closed, she shifted her upper body, allowing her dress to slip to her waist. Beneath the gown, she’d worn a sheer, black lace bra that did more to highlight her large nipples than hide them. Even without seeing his face, she knew she had Brent’s full attention. She could picture him staring at her breasts, visualize that hot, hungry look he always got when they made love. Holding that image in her mind, she cupped her breasts, running her thumbs across her sensitive nipples. “Jesus, Lily.” His warm fingers brushed the back of her hand. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t touch me. Just watch.” “That’s torture.” “Is it?” She finally opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I didn’t say you couldn’t touch yourself. You just can’t touch me. Is your cock hard for me, baby? Let me see how much you want me.” He moaned, undoing the button on his slacks, but then stopped and looked toward the driver’s partition. “Are you sure we have time?” “All the time in the world.” She lifted her breasts, recapturing his attention, and caressed them slowly while she watched him slide his pants and briefs off. His cock stood at attention, thick and heavily veined. Lillian’s mouth went dry and warm liquid trickled between her thighs. Suddenly, the idea of teasing him while he watched her make herself come didn’t seem quite as appealing. She lifted up, pulling her dress down and off. “No underwear?” Brent slowly stroked his thick cock as his heated gaze focused on her neatly trimmed pussy. “No underwear. I took them off.” She spread her thigh-high stocking-covered legs, propping one high heel on either side of him, giving him a clear view of her wet slit. “You like?” “Touch yourself,” he said, his husky tone telling her just how very much he did like. “Rub your clit.” Still cupping one breast, she slid one hand down her stomach and between her legs. She delved inside, gathering some of her moisture and spreading it up over her swollen clitoris. A tiny shiver raced through her body and her eyes drifted closed once again. 103
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“God that’s nice. You have the prettiest little pussy.” His words made her hotter, wetter, and her juices flowed freely, coating her fingers and dribbling onto the seat. She used both hands, spreading her swollen folds, offering him a silent invitation. She felt him move and opened her eyes, smiling softly and wrapping her arms around his neck as he leaned over her, positioning himself between her thighs. “I’m afraid I’m just not good at teasing you,” she said. “You’re incredible,” he pressed forward, sliding slowly inside, filling and stretching her, “at everything you do.” “Make love to me, Brent,” she said, nipping at the soft flesh near his collarbone. “Give it to me nice and slow and deep and let me come on your cock.” “Mmm, baby, squeeze my cock with your pussy.” He rocked his hips, setting up a careful rhythm. Lillian’s breath caught and she clenched her muscles, drawing him deeper. She forced a hand between them, rubbing her clit in time with his thrusting cock. Tension built in her lower belly and she moaned deep in her throat. “Ah yeah. That’s it. Squeeze my cock tighter, baby. Come for me.” He bent his head, capturing her lips, stealing her breath. Lillian returned his kiss, pouring every ounce of passion and desire into the act, wordlessly conveying her feelings. I love you, she thought as the tension burst and her entire body shook with the force of her climax. Brent lifted his head and let out a low growl, joining her in her release, filling her pussy with his thick, hot cum. As the world passed by outside, Brent gathered her in his arms, holding her close. Lillian closed her eyes, releasing a contented sigh. She had the perfect—albeit craziest— family, a satisfying career and finally, a strong, reliable, wonderful man. She snuggled against Brent’s chest. No doubt about it…life couldn’t get any better.
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Chapter Twelve “Wow.” Lily stepped inside the tiny hotel room foyer and looked around. Decorated in royal blue and gold satin, the fantasy suite she’d rented for the night more than met her expectations. “Wow, wow, wow. This is even better than I imagined. The photos online don’t do it justice.” Behind her, Brent closed the door. “And what did you expect from something called One Thousand Arabian Nights? I can’t believe you actually planned all of this.” She turned, scanning his expression. “You don’t like it?” “Like it?” He shook his head, drew her into his arms. “Baby, I love it. I’m just surprised, that’s all.” “Yeah, well, if you think my getting this room is surprising, just wait until you see what I packed in my suitcase.” She laughed, a little nervous and uncertain now that they were actually here. The idea of dressing up like a harem girl—of actually using the silk ropes and blindfold she’d brought with her—had seemed like a good idea when she’d made the hotel reservations but now she wasn’t so sure. She’d never discussed her sexual preferences with Brent, had just assumed he’d go along with whatever she wanted. And so far he had. He always seemed so eager to please. But what if roleplaying and acting out sexual fantasies wasn’t his thing? What if he preferred a more vanilla relationship? “I can’t wait to see what you have planned for me tonight.” She searched his face. He sounded sincere but— “Are you sure?” Taking her hand, he put it on his crotch, placing her fingers around his enormous erection. “Does it feel like I’m sure? Lily, if I get any harder for you, I’m going to burst.” She squeezed him lightly then released him and stepped back. Giving him a mischievous smile, she reached for the travel bag she’d dropped right inside the door. “Why don’t you get comfortable? Make us a couple of drinks,” she said. “I’m going to go change.” She left him standing in the foyer and went in search of the bathroom and a private place in which to ready herself for him. He’d turned down the lights and drawn the curtains, lit the candles and turned down the bed. As Lillian stepped from the bathroom, she felt as if she’d been transported back in time, to an era when men ruled the earth and women were there to serve. Dressed in a filmy, see-through harem dancer’s outfit, complete with veils and tiny, tinkling bells, she could almost believe she’d stepped into another world.
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Brent, fully nude, reclined on the long, wide couch, an open bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket on the table before him. When he saw her, his eyes grew wide and he grinned. “I thought you might have had something like this in mind. What do you have in your hand?” he asked. She looked down and her cheeks grew warm. She’d forgotten all about the silk ties. “Just a little something I thought you might need.” “Come here.” She crossed the room and started to join him on the couch but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “No. There. Kneel at my feet.” She smiled to herself and did as he instructed. This was one of the things she loved about him. How he intuitively knew exactly what to say, exactly what to do, to make her heart pound. The simple act of kneeling at his feet made her wet. She could only imagine how hot she’d be by the time they made it to the enormous four-poster bed. “Would you like some champagne?” He held out a glass, waited for her to take it and then picked up his own. He lifted the goblet in the air. “To the loveliest Humanitarian of the Year award recipient I’ve ever known.” “Thank you.” Lillian drained her glass in one nervous gulp then held it up. “May I have more?” “Of course.” He sipped his own drink and Lillian could feel him watching her as she refilled her glass. Her hands shook and some of the champagne dribbled onto the tabletop. “You seem nervous.” His voice held a teasing note and Lillian smiled. “I am, I guess. A little.” Although all of this had been her idea, she wanted him— needed him—to take the lead now, to guide her but would he know how to proceed? “Lily, come here.” He reached for her hand, guiding her between his outstretched legs. Brushing his knuckles over her breast, he captured her gaze. “You’re very beautiful tonight. I like your outfit. You look like a harem girl, here for my pleasure.” She licked her lips and swallowed, hard. He had the gist of it but would he follow through? “Are you?” He raised a brow. “Are you my personal sex slave? Will you do anything to please me? Anything at all?” At her nearly imperceptible nod, he smiled and her heart hammered harder in her chest. “I think I’ll call you Jasmine,” he said, stroking her nipple through the filmy material of her fringed halter-top-like bra. “You look like a Jasmine. Beautiful and exotic.”
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Lillian shivered at his husky, erotic tone. Damn, he had this down pat. She should have known he’d catch on easily enough. She cleared her throat. “And what shall I call you?” she asked. “Well, I think, under the circumstances, you should call me Master. After all,” he said, his gaze shifting to her breast and her hard nipple, visible through the fabric, “I own you.” “Very well.” She lowered her gaze to hide her pleasure. “Very well, what?” he asked, giving her nipple a gentle tug. Her gaze flew to his face. “Very well, Master.” “Forget again, dear Jasmine, and I’ll be forced to punish you.” Punish. The image the word conveyed made her pussy weep. Instantly, the thought of forgetting on purpose popped into her head. “I assure you, you wouldn’t enjoy it,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. He gave her what could only be described as a knowing smile. “I won’t forget again, Master.” Again, she lowered her gaze, affecting the posture of a submissive slave. “How may I serve you?” “Seduce me.” “Seduce you?” He frowned but before he could open his mouth she corrected herself. “Seduce you, Master?” “Yes. Get me hard. Excited. Wanting you.” She glanced at his cock, which lay long and thick against his thigh. Just the sight of him made her mouth water and she willingly took him in her hand, stroking him lightly. He reached out, cupping her breasts, brushing her nipples with his thumbs. Lillian moaned and bent her head, sliding her tongue from the base of his shaft up to the head. “Oh fuck yeah. That’s it, baby. Take it in your mouth. Suck me.” She did as he asked, drawing him deep, bobbing her head rhythmically, struggling to take him all in. She worshipped him with her mouth, with her lips and tongue and teeth. Wiggling her ass, she groaned against his hard flesh, longing to have him fill her dripping pussy, desperate for his attention. “Enough,” he said suddenly and grabbed her hair, pulling her away. “Get on the bed.” Lillian blinked rapidly, slowly regaining her senses. She rose to her feet and on trembling legs crossed to the bed. “Lie down,” he said, coming to stand beside her. “I want you on your back, spreadeagled, now.” She climbed onto the end of the bed and crawled toward the headboard, wiggling her ass in the air as she did so, purposely seductive. She took her time, giving him a 107
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show, and behind her she heard him suck in his breath and she smiled. At least she affected him as much as he affected her. The mattress suddenly sank and she gasped as he captured her around the waist, flipping her onto her back. He grabbed one of her arms, dragging it above her head. Using one of the silk ties she’d brought with her, he secured her wrist to one of the bedposts. “Teasing me was a bad idea, Jasmine,” he said, making quick work of tying her other arm above her head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be punished.” Lillian watched him warily as he pulled on her bindings, obviously testing their strength. Her heart beat rapidly and her breath caught as he straddled her, bringing his large, thick cock to her lips. “Open,” he told her, grasping his shaft in his fist and rubbing the head across her mouth. She hesitated a moment but he pressed forward and she parted her lips. The head of his cock slipped inside and he pushed deeper, pumping his hips. Lillian gagged and her eyes teared. She tugged on the bindings, instinctively thinking to take him in her hand, control his actions, but the silk ties held tight. “A slave never teases her Master, Jasmine,” he said, fucking her face in slow, deep strokes. “Unless, of course, her Master asks her to.” Lillian turned her head, struggling to escape him, unable to breathe. Her lungs grew hot and she moaned, deep in her throat. Suddenly, he pulled out, sliding down her body to straddle her hips. Lillian closed her eyes and drew several deep, ragged breaths, struggling to calm her racing heart. “Let that be a lesson to you, my love,” Brent said and his warm lips caressed her own. “Never disobey your Master.” She opened her eyes, casting him a heated glare. “But I didn’t—” He raised a brow and she quickly closed her mouth and looked away. Warm fingers slid along the straps of her bra top and then suddenly she felt a yank and heard a loud tearing sound as he ripped the flimsy cloth from her body. A second later, he’d managed to divest her of her flowing harem pants, tossing them to the floor. “There. Much better. How does it feel,” he asked, using his forefinger to draw lazy circles across her breasts and down her belly, “to be totally helpless? Completely at my mercy?” How does it feel? She thought about the question—really thought about it—before forming an answer. He’d straddled her again and his heavy cock lay at half-mast against her belly, his firm thighs gripped her hips. He could do anything he wanted to her, anything at all and there wouldn’t be a thing she could do about it. How did it make her feel? Hot. Hot and wet and incredibly horny. Aching to be fucked. “Please, Master,” she said, arching against him, “make me come.” He smiled that amazing smile of his, the one that never failed to make her cream her panties, and slid farther down, between her outstretched thighs. Lillian sighed,
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anticipating his next move, lifting her hips invitingly. She watched him through hooded eyes as he fisted his thick shaft, guided his hard cock into her pussy. He sank deep, burying himself to the hilt, stretching her to accommodate his thickness and then he pulled all the way out. “Oh please!” Lillian choked back a sob at having been so full and then so suddenly empty. He teased her, then, popping just the head of his cock inside, then pulling out, over and over again, fucking her with short, shallow strokes. Lillian tugged on her bindings, lifting her hips each time he entered her, aching to feel his full length once again. “Please. Oh please.” She repeated the phrase over and over. “Please what?” he asked her, rubbing his cock over her clit. “Say it.” “Please, Master. Fuck me. Please fuck me hard.” She begged him, sobbing in earnest now, desperate for completion. Every nerve ending felt raw and exposed and her whole body tingled. Instantly he pressed forward, filling her completely. Lillian cried out, yanking on her ties and thrusting her hips up to meet his own. Brent bent his head and his warm lips captured one of her hard nipples, suckling her hard. Tossing her head on the pillows, Lillian screwed her eyes shut, frightened by the intensity of her building climax. Her toes tingled and bright lights flashed beneath her lowered lids as the tension built and Brent continued to plumb her depths with long, even strokes. “I can’t!” she cried out, truly frightened by the overwhelming sensations. “You can,” he told her, nuzzling her neck. “It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Come for me. I’ll stay with you. Just let it go.” She opened her eyes, captured his gaze, using the passion and warmth she found there as an anchor in storm of her emotions. “That’s it. Come for me. Look into my eyes and come for me.” “Oh God. Yes!” The tension burst like shattering glass as the first wave of her orgasm crashed over her and still she held his gaze, riding it out. She felt him tense, watched his pupils dilate as he joined her. He pistoned his hips—once, twice—his hot cum spurting deep within her clenching pussy. “Jesus.” His harsh whisper sent a wave of warm breath against her neck as he collapsed on top of her. “Incredible.” Lillian lay still, listening to the sound of his harsh breathing, struggling to fill her own lungs with air beneath his crushing weight. She didn’t ask him to move, didn’t remind him to untie her, never wanted this moment to end. God, how she loved this man. Never in a million years would she have dreamed she’d find someone so perfect— perfect for her… Someone who understood her, accepted her, nurtured her inner passion.
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The seconds ticked past until finally Brent lifted his head. He gave her a lingering kiss and then rolled to his side. Lillian turned her head, offering him a tremulous smile. “Will you untie me now?” she asked. “Sure.” He sounded strange—distant. “What’s wrong?” “Baby,” he said, reaching to undo the silk ties, “what could possibly be wrong?” He tossed the silk ties to the floor then reached to gather her in his arms. “I don’t know,” she said, cuddling against him, drawing on his warmth, “you just sounded funny there for a minute.” “I was just thinking.” He caressed her back as he spoke. “This whole role-playing thing we did…I liked it.” She lifted her head to watch his expression. “I liked it a lot,” he continued, “but was I too rough? Was it too much?” “Brent,” she said, resting her forehead against his chin, “that was the most amazing sexual experience of my life. So please shut up.” She playfully nipped at his jawline. “Or should I say, please shut up, Master?” Laughing, he rolled her onto her back, pressing her into the mattress. “That’s Mr. Master, to you, baby. That’s Mr. Master to you.”
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Chapter Thirteen “Christmas is coming, the goose is getting f-f-fat.” Lillian rolled her eyes to the ceiling, wondering if her cousin would ever learn all the words. He repeated the same few lyrics over and over again. “Larry,” she said, interrupting his song. “Come over here and taste this eggnog.” She ladled up a cup full of thick, highly rummed eggnog and handed it to him. Larry lapped it up like a puppy, making her smile. “This is y-y-your b-b-b-est ever.” She patted his shoulder, accustomed to the praise he freely gave. If only everyone was as sweet as Larry, the world would be a much better place. She looked up as Grampy walked through the door, Grace holding onto his arm. They crashed on the sofa with a thud, as if they’d just run a marathon instead of walked a few feet from the kitchen. Grace immediately put her feet up on the mohair ottoman and Grampy reached for the remote control. “No TV tonight.” Lillian took the remote from Grampy. “It’s Christmas Eve for goodness’ sake.” She set the controller on top of the aged television. “Where’s my presents?” Fran asked, coming in through the arched doorway and into the room. Ignoring her aunt, Lillian took a moment to admire the ten-foot tree they’d spent nearly the whole day decorating. A family tradition, they did the same thing, year in and year out. The tree lights sparkled off the huge green and red glass ball ornaments that hung from the faux limbs of the well-loved, ancient tree. Larry lay on his stomach on the floor watching the antique train—a train Grampy bought for Lillian’s dad when he was small—go around the bottom of the tree. What would she do without them? These quirky, eccentric folk were her people and she loved them more than anything in the world. What would she have done had they not been there for her when her she lost her parents? The cuckoo clock chimed seven and as if on cue, Larry broke back into his rendition of the fat goose song. Lillian clapped her hands and drew everyone’s attention. “Time for presents.” She left the room and wished, not for the first time, Brent could be there sharing in all the excitement with her. Brent, being low man on the totem pole, was stuck working doubles on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and decided to spend the off-time with his mom and sister. Lillian didn’t mind too much, especially when fresh roses arrived that morning with an erotic note attached. The time they spent at the
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Venus Suites had been magical, more than enough to live off of until they hooked back up after the Christmas hoopla. She herself was on call that evening and no doubt there’d be a baby born sometime between now and Christmas morning. Happened nearly every year, for as long as Lillian could remember. She didn’t mind really. Christmas was a time for miracles and there was nothing on earth more miraculous than the birth of a child. She entered a hallway closet, a deep, narrow passage where she buried her gifts year after year. Flipping on the light, she shouldered her way to the very back. They were gone! The presents she’d picked for everyone had disappeared. She turned around in a full circle, examining the small area, wondering if they could have shifted somehow. Nothing. No big paper shopping bags with handles, no bright colored ribbons and bows. No boxes. They’d all disappeared. “Damn it.” She leaned against the wall and rubbed her temples. Had she stashed them elsewhere this year? The nurse. The sound floated through the air as if pushed by a breeze. But there was no wind in the back of the stuffy old closet. Having become accustomed to such oddities, Lillian just shook her head. Could the nurse have moved them? Why would she be in the back of the closet? Somehow, some way, they needed to get to the bottom of this. Lillian made a mental note to ask Brent to check the video cameras they’d installed. Surely, by now, they had to have captured something useful. Lillian hurried from the closet, clicked off the light and shut the door behind her. She went back into the library where her family sat waiting, all the time racking her brain for a possible solution to the gifts’ disappearance. Larry was handing Grace a cup of eggnog when Lillian came back in. “Well?” Fran asked again. “Where are my gifts?” “I can’t find them.” Lillian told her sheepishly. She had no idea where they were, she knew only that they weren’t where she left them. “Don’t tell me you’re getting forgetful too, dear.” Fran crossed the room and took Lillian’s arm. “That would be more than I can handle,” Fran whispered, concern etched in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. “I put them in the closet.” “Where you always hide them.” Fran nodded. “You knew?” Lillian arched a brow. Had Fran been spying? “Yes, dear. I’ve known for years. They’re gone?” “Did you move them?” Lillian countered.
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“Heavens no. And I doubt anyone else did either. Larry can’t fit in the tight space and Grace and Henry don’t know about the spot. Or at least they act like they don’t.” “More thefts?” Fran stared at her and then slowly nodded. “More thefts.”
***** How she managed not to see him for two days, she couldn’t say but now, just as his shift was ending, she planned to surprise him—again. This time with drinks and an early dinner. She’d never been so excited to see a person, never wanted to spend so much time with someone else. Being an only child, she’d gotten used to her own company, to keeping herself occupied. Brent had changed all that. She’d opened herself up to him in ways she never imagined. The things they discussed, she’d never talked with anyone about. She felt almost as close to him as she did to her own family. She took a deep breath as she entered the police station, struggling to calm her racing heart. She’d been in this building dozens of times—either picking up Aunt Grace or dropping off little tokens of her appreciation to the officers who always worked so hard to keep Cary safe—but this time she felt different. Nervous. Had Brent told his coworkers about the two of them? She gripped the gift basket with shaking hands and approached the front desk. “Hello, Sam! Merry belated Christmas.” She placed the basket of chocolates and fruit on the counter. “Well, Miss Humanitarian! Quite the picture of you in the paper this morning! If you’re looking for Miss Grace, she hasn’t been down here lately.” “She’s safe at home. I finally found a nurse who likes my family. Hard to believe but she’s been there a couple weeks already.” Lillian smiled. “Today, I just wanted to bring down this basket and wish you all happy holidays. I’ll go set this in the lounge, if that’s okay with you?” “Sure thing. My shift’s over in about ten minutes. Hopefully, by the time I get back there, there’ll still be something left.” “If I see anyone in the breakroom, I’ll tell them to make sure they save you some.” She shot him a wink and walked down the hallway. So Sam had seen her photo in the newspaper, huh? That meant he’d probably seen Brent’s photo in the newspaper too. Which probably meant the whole department knew they’d attended the charity dinner together. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why but for some reason, that thought unsettled her. Entering the lounge, she cringed at the televised blare of some sporting event blasting to an empty room. Were all cops deaf? And why the heck didn’t they turn it off—or at least turn it down—when they left? She placed the basket on a low sofa table and then snatched up the remote, fumbling for the power button. The television went
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dark and she breathed a sigh of relief in the ensuing silence. And that’s when she heard the voices, coming from just outside the door. “I knew you were working as an escort.” The man’s snide comment sounded clearly in the silent room. “You need extra money, Kennedy? I hear the mega-mart is hiring and you don’t have to wear a stupid monkey suit. ’Course, you don’t get pussy workin’ the customer service counter. I guess the doc must pay you pretty damn good for your…services.” The idiot laughed and Lillian’s neck muscles tightened with anger. “Stud services. Ha! Good one!” Another son of a bitch laughed. “What you trying to prove, Detective? Think your dating the richest chick in Cary gonna get you some points with the mayor? Maybe earn you a promotion faster?” Lillian held her breath, tamping down on her anger, expecting Brent to speak up at any moment and rip both the sons of bitches new assholes. She gritted her teeth and leaned against the wall, uncertain whether she wanted to cry or throw up. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m just doing it for the money, okay?” Brent’s voice rang clear. “And besides that, she’s a great fuck.” What! Lillian gagged and doubled over in such pain, she thought someone had actually stabbed her in the gut. “Mom’s bills are piling up and the doc opens her purse when she’s satisfied. And let me tell ya, I’ve been keeping her well satisfied, if you know what I mean.” A chorus of laughter followed Brent’s words then faded away as the men obviously moved on down the hallway. Lillian straightened, wiping tears of pain and rage from her eyes. Who the hell did he think he was, talking about her like that? The backstabbing, money-grubbing, lying piece of shit. She twisted the doorknob and strode out of the lounge, head held high as she left the police station. Fuck him, she thought. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. Rushing through the parking lot, she didn’t bother to acknowledge the greetings from several passing officers. She needed to leave, to get out of there before she lost it completely, went back in, found Brent and wrung his damned neck. She climbed into her new Mercedes S-class sedan and started the engine. Damn it. Why the hell had she allowed herself to get sucked in? She should have known better than to fall so hard—and so fast—for a man she barely knew. She pulled out of the parking lot, revving her engine and sped away from town. She didn’t know exactly where she was headed but it definitely wasn’t home or the hospital. She had two days before she needed to be back at work and right now she needed to put as much distance between herself and Brent as possible. At the next red light, she made a quick call home to Aunt Fran, told her she’d be gone for a few days and headed to the one place no one would think to look for her, a cottage only she knew she owned.
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***** “Gramma, I’m not sure what the hell happened. How could I have been fooled so badly by the idiot?” Lillian pulled the handmade quilt up under her chin and sank farther into the sofa, moping and sulking, feeling absolutely miserable and completely sorry for herself. It didn’t help that she’d rented the saddest romance movies at the video store before holing up here either. She’d bought the cabin when she was in college, needing a place to run to when her well-intentioned aunts and grandfather got to be too smothering, or when she just needed some quiet time to think, to study…just to be alone. The furniture she’d purchased at rummage sales and most of the pieces were showing their age. But Lillian didn’t care. She’d made this her secret getaway and in all the years she’d owned it, no one had ever found her here. No one ever would. The cabin wasn’t even registered in her own name. She knew it would take a couple of days to bounce back and she needed this time to heal…to lick her wounds. But the bastard wouldn’t even know why she wasn’t answering his pages and that irked her. She wanted him to know she’d overheard his disgusting confession. Wanted to spit in his face. On the other hand, that would mean reliving the whole ugly incident and God knows, once had been bad enough. She sneezed. “Great! Just what I need. My period, a cold and an asshole for a former boyfriend. Damn those stinking tarot cards.” She’d brought them with her, of course. They’d been in her purse since the night they’d installed the security cameras—cameras that didn’t seem to be doing much of a job picking up any criminal activity. As far as Lillian knew, nothing else was missing though, so perhaps as a deterrent they were successful. She crawled off the couch, grabbed her purse and the second box of Ho-Hos then sank to her knees on the faux bearskin rug before the fireplace. She knew she was asking for trouble, should probably burn the stupid cards before they brought anymore chaos into her life, but something drove her to open the box and pull them out. She shuffled them, trying to formulate a question that the blasted cards could answer. She remembered what Fran’s reading had revealed. Would they say the same thing, or be completely different and, as she imagined, a complete load of crap? She laid the cards out in a simple five-card spread and placed the instruction booklet containing the various cards’ meanings next to the spread. She flipped over the first card. The Nine of Swords. “Okay, so what do you mean, naked man lying on the bed crying?” She read the definition from the pamphlet, her eyes going wide. A tragic loss. An emotional blow. “Well, you can’t get much closer than that.” She kept reading. “You are no longer objective where this situation is concerned. Move forward one step at a time.”
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She laughed out loud, drowning the slightly maniacal sound by shoving another Ho-Ho in her mouth. With chocolate-stained fingers, she flipped over the next card, which supposedly denoted challenges. The Lovers card. Great. Her brows rose as she studied the picture. The man’s penis was so huge, it almost seemed cartoon-like, and the look on his female partner’s face clearly expressed her uncertainty. Lillian glanced back at the brochure and found the description again. “This is a load of crap.” She laughed. “Take the best from the opposites and bring peace and harmony.” She hooted. Ridiculous! She wanted to kill Brent, not harmonize with him. “Time for the advice card.” She stood up and went to the small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of rum and poured some in a glass with a splash of cola. Rum and Ho-Hos, some diet. She plopped back on the rug, careful not to upset the tarot spread, and took a sip of her drink for fortification. “Let’s have the advice,” she said, flipping the card with a flourish to rival Aunt Fran. “The Queen of Coins.” In this position you must trust the people who have cared for you. They will keep you safe and sound no matter what might come. “Well duh. They’ve loved me forever, no matter what I did.” “And finally—” Lillian looked up as she caught a glimpse of herself on television. She’d left the set on, with the volume low and one of the evening tabloid shows had just come on the air. “The Cary Humanitarian Committee has presented, for the past three decades, their Humanitarian of the Year award. Dr. Lillian Smythe, a thirty-five-year-old doctor received the award.” The woman continued, “Dr. Smythe, a single woman, is not only heiress to one of the largest fortunes in the country but does volunteer work for a women’s clinic and the humane society. Her philanthropic efforts provided Penn State with almost a million dollars in research funds last year. Congratulations, Dr. Smythe.” “Would you look at her?” The other host—a man—commented. “Hard to believe a woman like that is still single.” “She was pictured with a man at the event. Who knows, maybe wedding bells are on the horizon?” “Hurry up, guys. A dish with cash. Can’t beat that.” Lillian grunted and threw the remote at the television. “Why is it all about money?” she screamed. After a huge gulp of her drink, she flipped over the fourth card. “The devil. And boy do you look like a devil.” A naked man, wearing a red tie, fake horns and nothing else, grinned up at her from the plastic-coated card. “You aren’t inhibited by your past expectation of others. You are making a difference, even if it
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doesn’t seem that way at the moment. Think of the greater good that comes from your actions.” “Whatever.” She sighed. “Let’s see the last one. Better not be the King of Swords. Oh yeah,” she said, laughing that crazy little laugh, “I burned him in the fireplace last night.” She laughed harder, remembering how the plastic card disintegrated in the flames. “Judgment. How lovely.” She looked back at the booklet one last time. A reunion of sorts is coming. The individual pictures on this card are only parts of your true self, the same soul meeting in a timeless place. “So…maybe things will work out, maybe they won’t but it appears I have my family to support me no matter what.” She giggled and drained her glass in one last gulp. “Gramma,” she said, speaking to the room at large, “I know you’ve been haunting the manor. I know I saw you the other night and I know you didn’t like Brent in my bed.” She giggled. “I cannot believe I am talking to thin air. “But my heart hurts, Gramma. I don’t know what to do. I think I’m drunk too but hell if I care tonight. What can I do to feel better?” She got to her feet and stumbled into the kitchen to pour another drink and then weaved her way back to the living room. She giggled. If the Cary Humanitarian Committee could see her now, they might very well take back their award. A sobering thought and she sighed. Damn you, Brent. Damn you to hell for doing this to me. She slumped onto the couch, leaning back and closing her eyes against the beginnings of a pounding headache. A moment later, she drifted off to sleep.
***** “What do you mean you don’t know where she is? What if she’s dead in a ditch somewhere?” Brent felt like he was talking to the wall instead of Aunt Fran. “She goes off sometimes when she needs to be alone.” “Where does she go? I’ve paged her a dozen times, called the hospital, the clinic. No one knows where she is. You don’t seem at all concerned.” “Young man, I have loved that child since the moment she was born. I know when she needs her space and when she needs to be coddled. At the moment, she needs her space.” “What happened?” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his temples to soothe the pounding. “Something.” Fran shrugged and sat at the kitchen table in the manor’s kitchen. “She didn’t say but I’m certain she’s just fine. I’ll have her call you when she gets home.” 117
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“Do you know when that might be?” If Fran were a man, he’d wring her neck. “Nope.” Fran shook her head. “Have a cinnamon roll, would you?” She pushed a plate filled with the iced pastries across the highly polished mahogany tabletop. “I’m not hungry, Fran. I’m concerned.” “Well, don’t be. Say,” she wiped her mouth free of crumbs, “can I file a theft report while you’re here?” “What’s missing now?” “My whole jewelry box is gone now. Along with Grace’s. Henry is missing a pocket watch, or two. He couldn’t remember if he donated one for a charity auction last year.” “I’ll fill out a report when I get to the station.” He stood and pushed his chair under the table. “I’m on duty overnight tonight.” “You ever going to have a normal schedule? I mean, I know Lil’s is crazy but she has set office hours at least.” “I’m playing by the rules for now, Fran. Trying to fit in. Let me tell you, I am hating every minute of it. I have to be something I’m not and I hate it.” “So quit.” “Life isn’t that simple.” He rested his hands on the back of the wooden chair. “I don’t have your wealth to fall back on.” “You saying you couldn’t do something else?” Fran challenged him with raised brows. “I like being a detective, feeling like I make a difference in people’s lives.” “Be true to yourself, Brent. Your conscience is the only thing that matters.” Fran stood and placed her dish in the sink. “When is your mom moving in?” “I don’t know if she is,” he answered. “Lillian must have talked with you about that.” “She asked if anyone cared. Larry wasn’t sure but he finally said all right when Lillian said your mom wouldn’t make fun of his stutter.” Brent laughed. “Mom has far more important things to worry about than Larry’s stutter.” “Diabetes?” “And Parkinson’s. Poor lady is a mess.” “Well, Lillian will see to her improvement. She has a way of making people heal. The latest nurse seems okay too. At least she’s still here.” He checked his watch. “I gotta fly. I’ll fill out a stolen items form when I get to work and swing by for the exact details tomorrow. Tell Lillian to call me as soon as you hear from her.” He left the house feeling empty. Lillian had fallen off the face of the earth and no one seemed to have any idea where she was. She wasn’t answering her pager, she
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hadn’t checked in at the hospital. Not a single word from the woman since the day after Christmas. When was the last time they’d talked? With his schedule lately, one day seemed to blend right in with another. He climbed in his pickup and pulled out of the driveway that was starting to feel like his second, check that, only home. He considered what that day had been like. He’d worked until three and called Lillian but didn’t get in touch with her. He’d gone home and cleaned out the food in the fridge that was going rancid and then… Shit. Food. She’d been at the station. Sam said she’d been in and left that Christmas basket. Why hadn’t she stopped in to see him? What time had she been there? Sam had said something about Brent just missing his girlfriend. So what had caused her to leave without saying hello? He wasn’t being a very good detective on this case but when the family members refuse to help, it makes it difficult, especially when a person’s emotions are involved.
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Chapter Fourteen “You look like shit, Lillian.” “Gee, Jenny, you are so sweet. I missed you too.” “What you doing with that cop? Do you know how many times that man has called here looking for you?” The appropriate question was, did she care how many times the fool had called? The jig was up, she knew his game and the hell if she was going to fall for it. Lillian looked away from her associate’s prying eyes. She wasn’t about to talk about it with Jenny. No way, no how. “What does the schedule look like today? How about tomorrow? Any inductions on the horizon?” “You can try to change the topic all you want but there is something not right about you and I am going to find out what it is.” “Jenny. Leave it alone, would you?” “For now,” Jenny told her and then proceeded to read off the day ahead. Lillian only half listened, still caught up in her situation with Brent. Dreading the time when she would have to actually see him again, face-to-face and tell him to go to hell, while wishing—at the same time—that he would bend her over backward and make her scream in ecstasy. Don’t be a fool, Lillian. The man is a rat. “Let’s get to it, Jenny. Time’s a-wasting.” Lillian stood up, straightened her wool skirt and adjusted the hem of her scalloped-edged blouse. She’d dressed for all business today. The outfit suited her mood. Later that afternoon, after she’d cleaned up the paperwork and charting, she went to the private doctors’ lounge to retrieve her belongings. She grabbed her things then headed back out, closing the door behind her. She didn’t hear him approach until it was too late. “Well, it’s about time you’re wrapping up. Long day, Lily?” She could tell from his tone he wasn’t any happier to see her as she was to see him. “Long but not the longest.” She turned to face him, clutching her purse to her chest like a protective shield. “What are you doing here?” “Interesting question, all things considered. Why haven’t you returned my calls? Where have you been?” “That’s a lot of questions, Brent. Suppose I throw a couple your way? Why were you seeing me? What were you getting out of it?” 120
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“What the hell are you talking about?” He took a step forward and Lillian took a step back. “I mean, which is it? The money or the pussy? How did you put it? Oh wait, that’s right. I’m a great fuck. I think that’s how you so eloquently phrased it to those classy sons of bitches you work with.” She turned her back on him. “Now go away, Brent. You make me sick.” “So that’s what’s going on here. You heard all that, did you? Well, that explains why you didn’t find me to say hi that day.” He took her arm and pulled her around, bringing her up against him. “Let me go!” “I can’t let you go, Lily,” he whispered in her ear. “What we have has nothing to do with your money but you are a great fuck. I would want to fuck you even if you were as poor as I am.” “You say that,” she said, hating the raspy tone in her voice, “but how would I know?” “Come on, Lily, you know what I’m feeling. You know me better than anyone in the world, honey. Better than my ex-wife, better than my mom, my sister.” She fought the urge to stay in his embrace and moved away. “I can’t stand what you said about me. How the hell can I ever look those pricks in the eye again after the crap you fed them? Don’t you care about my reputation at all? How can you build yourself up to be some kind of stud and crush me into ashes at the same time? You’re an ass, Brent. I would never have put myself ahead of you—in any way. Never. And besides, I don’t want to be just a good fuck. Not to you, not to any man. Now leave me the hell alone.” She turned and strode away, an unfamiliar sense of pride coursing through her veins. Where had all that come from? When she’d imagined confronting him, she’d never dreamed she’d have the nerve to tell him fully how she felt, to let him really have it, but she’d managed to do just that—and without even shedding a single tear. She almost felt like cheering. But the problem with shouting in triumph is that it would signal victory— happiness—and there weren’t any winners here and she certainly wasn’t happy.
***** He’d blown a lot of things in his life but this one took the cake. His mother was moving into Smythton Manor that evening—Brent had arranged the details with Lily’s grandfather and Aunt Fran—and Lily refused to speak to him. Not that he blamed her. He deserved every ounce of her hatred and then some. He parked at the hospital, glad for the break in snow. Hard enough to get his mother in the pickup truck with her wheelchair and then over to Lily’s without her
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screaming bloody murder the whole way, without having to fight a blizzard at the same time. Barbie was waiting for him, having agreed to tell their mother about her new living arrangements. The way Brent saw it, Mom had two options—either she would go to a nursing home, or she would go to Smythton Manor. She’d be silly to choose anything but the manor. She’d have the near constant attention of a nurse, plus be able to live a luxurious lifestyle unlike anything she’d ever known. Brent had to admit, to himself at least, he had an ulterior motive. Maybe, if he was close to Lily, he’d convince her to forgive him. Somehow, he had to make her see he was a good guy who’d made a bad choice. A really, really bad choice. But not an unforgivable one. He strode into the hospital lobby, happy to see Barbie there waiting for him. “What did Mom say?” he asked her by way of greeting. “She’ll go to the manor. I’ll take her, though, ain’t no way you gonna get her fat ass up in that pickup a’ yours.” “Fine.” “Where’s the doctor lady? She looked beautiful at that deal. You looked hot too. Where did you get that tux?” “I rented it.” “Well, you’re sure not too talkative today,” she said. “I guess we should just go load her up and get her to the manor. I’ll feel better once we get her out of here.” Brent followed his sister to his mom’s hospital room, expecting her to be in a horrible mood and ready for her to rip him up good for forcing her to leave her home. To his surprise, he found her sitting up in her wheelchair, grinning from ear to ear. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Brent didn’t question her. Instead, he leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You ready to go?” He moved behind her chair and released the wheel brake. “Sure am.” Pleased at her cooperative attitude, Brent wheeled her down the hallway, down the elevator and waited with her at the revolving door until Barbie fetched her car. “I’m glad we’re doing this, Brent. I think we’ll be comfortable there. I like the idea of having someone else do all the cookin’ for a change. You think they can modify their meals enough for my new diet?” Had they given the woman some pep pills? He’d never heard her so bubbly. “Mom, I think you must have misunderstood. I’m not moving in there with you.” “What?” Her whole demeanor changed on a dime. “Barbie said you were.” “Well, then Barbie lied.” He squinted through the glass window, hoping to spot his sister’s car pulling up to the curb. “Well, I ain’t going if you ain’t.”
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“Mom…” “I’m serious. If you’re not going, I’m not going. End of discussion. I don’t know those people, you do.” She quickly twisted around in her seat to face him. “Oww!” “Are you okay?” He bent down to her level. “Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?” “I’m fine. But you listen to me, son. You are going to that manor with me. You have no choice.” “I do have a choice. Is it not enough I’ll spend time with you every day?” “Hell no. I don’t belong up there on that hill with those people as it is. They’re out of my league. I won’t even know how to act. I need you there, Brent, for moral support.” “Just be yourself, Mom. The Smythes aren’t what you think. They’re really—” He’d started to say normal but that wasn’t quite true. “You’ll really like them.” He pushed her toward the door. “Here’s Barbie.” “You’re staying at the manor, right?” “Oh for crying out loud, Mom.” Brent released a frustrated sigh. “I haven’t even talked to Lily about my staying there.” “But you will?” “If it’ll make you happy and stop you from nagging me, then yeah, I will.” Anything to get her out of the hospital and up to the manor without listening to her argue. “Thank you.” He pushed her though the revolving door then helped her into Barbie’s car. “I’ll take your chair in my truck,” he said, “and I’ll meet you up there.” He watched them drive off, then pushed her wheelchair over to his pickup and loaded it in the back. Twenty minutes later, he sat at the gated entrance of Smythton Manor, having punched in the security code for the second time and for the second time receiving an “error” message telling him the code was incorrect and to please try again. Lillian had changed the code. She’d locked him out! Tail between his legs, he punched the buzzer, gave his name to the caretaker and waited for the iron gate to swing open. He drove through, watching in his rearview mirror as his sister followed him up the long circle driveway. He parked in his usual spot, cut the engine and jumped out. From the back of the truck, he unloaded his mother’s wheelchair and pushed it over to Barbie’s car. “Here, Mom,” he said, bending down and extending a hand, “and let me help you out.”
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After he got her situated in the chair and had asked Ralph to take his mother’s bags to whichever room she’d been assigned, he turned to his sister, who still sat behind the wheel of her car. “You coming in?” he asked. “No. I have to be getting back to the kids. As it is, Ronnie’s going to be bitchin’ about me being gone too long.” Her top lip twisted in a sneer. “You know how he is. Calls watchin’ his own kids babysitting. Ha! Like he should be paid for it or somethin’.” “I understand. Thanks for helping. I’ll see you later.” He looked down, addressing his mother. “Mom, say goodbye to Barbie. She has to leave.” “Brent, if you don’t stop treating me like I’m a deaf, dumb and blind invalid, you and me’s going to fight.” His mom gave Barbie a little wave. “Bye, Barbie. Make sure you’re on your way up here to visit me soon, okay?” “I sure will, Mom. Bye.” Brent waited a moment until his sister had made it back out through the gate and then pushed his mother up the winding sidewalk to the back door. He tried the knob, grateful to find the door unlocked, and then pushed the chair down the back hallway to the very end, where he knew the small elevator was located. He punched the button for the second floor. “Why are we going upstairs?” his mom asked. “Because that’s what I arranged with Lily’s Aunt Fran. She said to bring you up to her room first and then she’d go with us to your new room and help get you settled in.” His mother harrumphed and Brent drew a weary breath as he pushed her off the elevator. Why did everything have to be so difficult? He would probably faint if one thing—just one thing—ever went smoothly, with no one bitching, no one giving him any trouble and no one questioning his every move. Fran, Henry and Larry were waiting for them in Fran’s suite. Brent did the introductions. “Fran, Henry, Larry, this is my mother, Isabelle Kennedy.” Brent watched them greet each other, pleased his mother smiled and spoke politely. She seemed immediately at ease with the elder Smythes and for that, Brent was grateful. They didn’t visit long. Mom got tired easily and after her fourth consecutive yawn, Fran grabbed some keys off the coffee table and handed them to Brent. “Here you go, dear.” She handed Brent a set of keys. “These are for the back door and your mom’s apartment. I’ll have duplicates made for you soon. Let’s take her to her new quarters, shall we?” “That’s probably a good idea.” He glanced at his watch. “I go on duty in an hour. Listen, Fran, do you know where I can find Lily? There’s something I need to talk to her about.”
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“She’s at the hospital,” Fran said, pushing his mother’s chair out into the hallway. “I don’t expect to see her until later. Why? What’s up?” Brent followed them down the corridor. How to approach the subject of him staying at the manor, temporarily, just until his mother healed? “Brent wants to stay here with me,” Isabelle said. “He’s worried about me, doesn’t want me out of his sight for very long.” Nearly choking on his surprise, Brent glared at the back of his mother’s snow-white head. “Well, I don’t see why he can’t take the empty apartment down the other end of the hallway,” Fran said, coming to a stop before another door, three down from her own. “And I’m sure Lillian won’t mind having him here.” “That’s what you think,” Brent muttered under his breath. “Pardon me?” Fran cast him a questioning look. “I said that’s what you think. Lily’s mad at me.” Fran opened the apartment door and pushed his mother inside. Turning on the lights, she nodded toward the spacious sitting area beyond the foyer. “Living room’s in there, Isabelle, and the kitchen’s just off that. Your bedroom and bath are down this other hall.” She turned to Brent. “Why’s Lillian mad at you? What did you do?” “Oh, this and that.” Brent couldn’t meet the older woman’s eye. “I’ll let her tell you all about it.” Fran harrumphed, sounding distinctly like his mother, but thankfully didn’t pursue the line of questioning. Instead, she pushed Isabelle into the bedroom and while Brent waited in the living room, helped his mother undress and climb into bed. “She’s nearly asleep already. Poor woman’s exhausted.” Fran came back into the sitting area. “Don’t you have to be at work soon?” “Yes. About my staying here?” “This house is huge. Certainly big enough for all of us, even if two of us are feuding. Chances are, you could roam around for days and never even run into each other.” Fran headed toward the foyer. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying and then you can get to work.” “And what about Lily? You know she changed the security code on the gate to keep me out. She’s not going to be happy about this, Fran. Are you going to tell her I’m staying, or should I?” “Oh, I’ll let her know you’re staying here, young man, but you better be prepared to face the consequences.” Fran opened the door and he followed her back out into the hallway. She turned, flashing him an ornery grin. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve never seen her hit anyone.” “Gee, thanks, Fran,” Brent said, thinking about how Lily would react when she heard about her newest houseguests. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.” Not. 125
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***** “I want an answer and I want it now.” Exhausted from the day, which felt far more like an eternity, Lillian pounced on her aunts, Grampy and Larry, all of whom were relaxing in the library. “Where is he?” “Who, dear? Who are you talking about?” Grampy appeared legitimately perplexed as he looked up from his crossword puzzle. “Brent Kennedy. His pickup is parked next to the garage.” She made eye contact with Aunt Fran and advanced on the older woman. “Fran?” Her aunt casually took a sip of her tea but looked down at her lap as if she had something to hide. “Where is he?” “Th-Th-They’re up in th-th-the empty apartments, L-L-Lil,” Larry blurted out. “They? They who?” Lillian tried not to snap at her cousin, since he was the only one being even remotely helpful at the moment. “M-M-Mr. Kennedy and his m-m-mom.” Larry gave an excited nod. “Sh-sh-she agreed to s-s-stay here, j-j-just until she heals.” Lillian closed her eyes. So that’s why Brent’s truck was in her driveway. He’d brought his mother. Apparently, he’d decided to take her up on her offer to have Isabelle stay here, rather than having to go to a nursing home. And somehow he’d managed to get his mother to agree. Well, that was fine, so long as— “Mr. K-K-Kennedy is staying t-t-too, Lil.” “He’s what!?” Lillian shouted, directing her displeasure toward Fran. “Aunt Fran, explain this. Now.” “How should I know?” Fran shrugged and Lillian wanted to scream. How dare they all connive behind her back, move her arch enemy into her home? She paused in thought, correcting herself. Their home. Smythton Manor belonged to all of them. But still… She glanced toward Aunt Grace, taking in the older woman’s wide-eyed stare and pale complexion. “Grace? What’s wrong?” Lillian fell to her knees near her aunt’s chair. “What is it? Are you ill?” Grace continued to stare off into the distance, toward a point near the hallway that led to the front staircase. “Grace! Answer Lillian before you scare the bejesus out of her!” Fran’s tone of voice was all business. Grace finally blinked, once, twice, then turned her gaze toward Lillian. “I’m sorry, dear, were you speaking to me? I was just watching your grandmother. She made a few funny faces at me and then walked on down the hallway.” “What?” Grampy sat straighter in his chair. “What did you say, Grace?” 126
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“Mary, dear. I just saw your wife out in the hallway. Didn’t you see her?” Grace stood and pointed toward the doorway. “Fran, did you see her?” Grampy wrestled himself from the chair. He walked past Lillian and out into the corridor and Lillian watched him go, wondering what he’d actually do if he saw his dead wife’s ghost roaming around. “Told ya, Lillian,” Fran said. “She’s back.” Lillian rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. After all, what could she say? She’d seen what she supposed was Gramma Smythe’s ghost herself—had felt her presence and experienced some pretty odd things around here lately. Especially when she and Brent were trying to make love. Brent. The thought of him made her want to weep. She needed rest. Time to regroup—rejuvenate after such a grueling day at the hospital. “I’m going upstairs,” she said to no one in particular and left the room. She made it to her suite without running in to either Brent or his mother. Bolting the door behind her, she headed for the master bath, intent upon having a long, leisurely soak in her whirlpool tub. Halfway there, she doubled back, detouring into the kitchen for a glass of wine to help calm her nerves. She wouldn’t answer the door for the rest of the night, she promised herself as she snapped on the little portable radio then went to fill up the tub. She would not go see Brent’s mother either, no matter how inhospitable that might seem. And she sure as hell wouldn’t go to find him. No way. No how. Just the thought of him living under her roof… “Huh. He’s probably just eating this up.” She started the bath and added a dollop of Lemon Luxury bath foam. Taking a sip of her wine, she frowned, imagining the new stories he’d concoct for those idiots down at the cop shop. “Ugh.” Pushing such disconcerting thoughts out of her mind, she undressed quickly then stuck one toe in the water to test the temperature. “Perfect,” she murmured, slipping beneath the bubble-laden surface, smiling as the gentle lemon scent tickled her nose. The bath foam gave the water a silk-like feel and Lillian ran her hand up and across her stomach, reveling in how soft her skin felt. She closed her eyes, concentrated on her sense of touch and how good it felt just to lie there and let her muscles relax. Her hand drifted farther, skimming her breast and her nipple grew hard against her palm. A tremor ran from breast to belly and she shifted, suddenly restless. How long since she’d had an orgasm? A week? More or less? One hand stayed on her breast while the other trailed lower, fingering the dark curls at the juncture between her thighs. She’d shaved most of her pussy for Brent. He loved the feel of skin against skin and frankly, so did she.
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Her swollen clit throbbed as she brushed it with her fingers. Did all women get wet as quickly as she did? Even beneath the water’s surface, she felt the slick juices seeping from her aching pussy. All thoughts of relaxing in the tub forgotten for the moment, she climbed out and grabbed her robe. She slipped it on to absorb most of the water and headed into her bedroom. From the top drawer of her side table, she retrieved her newest toy, a large, waterproof dildo she’d nicknamed The Meaty Man. She removed the long, thick, veiny dildo from the box and flicked on the switch to check the batteries. Meaty Man came to life in her hand, vibrating her arm halfway up to her elbow. She smiled in anticipation and headed back to the bathtub. Halfway there, someone knocked at the door and she froze. Feeling as if she were a captive in her own home, she crept back to the bedroom and peeked out into the hallway. After a moment, when no further knocks sounded, she heaved a sigh. “Jeez,” she murmured, returning to the bathroom. “At this rate, the water’s going to be ice-cold before I get a chance to come.” She shrugged out of her robe, bent down to retrieve her forgotten glass of wine, straightened up and came face-to-face with Brent. “You!” She took an involuntary step back. “What are you doing in here?” Brent just stared, his curious gaze fixed on Meaty Man, which she held clasped in her hand like a life raft. She thrust it behind her back and tried to look angry but the situation was ridiculous. “What are you doing in here?” She asked him again. “And how did you get in here?” “Your grandfather came and found me a few minutes ago. He gave me keys to the whole place,” he said. “I’ve been assigned to find out who’s robbing you blind.” “Assigned? What are you talking about? I never filed a police report.” “I know you didn’t but Fran did. She had me take care of it when you pulled your little disappearing act. Do you know how much stuff’s gone missing in the last week?” He continued before she could answer. “The chief has requested I devote my undivided attention to this case. I suppose your family is considered pretty important around these parts.” That last he said with obvious humor. So, he thought he could butter her up by being cute, did he? Well, if that were the case, he had another think coming. “Fine. You’re investigating the thefts but you still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here, in my apartment? Surely you don’t think I’m stealing from myself.” “No, I don’t think you’re stealing from yourself. Unless you count the fact you’re robbing yourself of a once-in-a-lifetime kind of relationship—not to mention incredible sex.” He crossed the distance between them in two giant steps and, before she could react, pulled her into his arms. “I want you, Lily. Please. Let me make love to you.”
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Make love. The words brought a lump to her throat. Not for their beauty but for the spotlight they threw on what didn’t exist between she and Brent. No love—at least not on his part—just lust, plain and simple. Hot, exciting, animalistic sexual attraction. Could that be enough, at least for now, or until something better, something more permanent came along? Based on her body’s reaction to his, she had to say yes. At least, right this moment, yes. She literally ached to have him fill her. Being near him made her tremble with desire. No rubber dildo could cause a reaction like that. What the hell? Why not use him for sex, much as he’d used her? Except he’d never catch her bragging about it to the women down at the hospital. “Come,” she whispered, having made up her mind to enjoy him while she could, “take a bath with me.” He reached behind her back and pulled her arm around. “You won’t be needing this.” Taking the dildo from her clenched fist, he tossed it on the floor. “Unless, of course, you’d like to try a little double penetration?” His words sent a shiver up her spine and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe later, stud. Right now, I’m only in the mood for the real thing.” Brent flashed her a heart-stopping smile and released her, stepping back to rid himself of his clothes. Rather than watch him, Lillian climbed into the bathtub. The water had cooled considerably, so she turned on the hot tap and flicked the switch to start the whirlpool jets. She settled back against the bubbling water and closed her eyes, waiting for him to join her, wondering how he’d proceed. Bone-weary, she decided to let him take the lead. He climbed in behind her, floated her in between his legs, positioning her in front of him. He nibbled a path up the side of her throat, stopping at her ear, sucking her lobe as he cupped her breasts, kneading them, holding her tightly against his hard, wet chest. She arched her back, catching his erection under her ass. His stiff shaft nudged her pussy and she rubbed against him. He moaned and she continued her teasing until he suddenly shifted and drove his long, thick cock home. Lillian gasped. No vibrator could ever match this feeling. “Bull’s-eye,” he whispered against her neck. She bent forward, adjusting her weight, and began to move. The water sloshed around them and the warm jets caressed her like hundreds of tiny hands as she rubbed her swollen clit. He stopped suddenly and withdrew. Lillian turned, facing him, and took hold of his shaft. She dipped her head, drawing him into her mouth and sucking him deep. He came instantly, flinging his head back and screaming her name, shooting hot, thick cum down her throat. Lillian swallowed hungrily, savoring every drop. She barely had time to catch her breath before he sprang to his feet, drawing her up with him. Climbing free of the tub, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the
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bedroom, heedless of the water dripping from their naked bodies. He placed her on the bed then retraced his steps to the bathroom, returning a moment later with Meaty Man in his hand. Lillian eyed him warily as he approached the bed. “Roll over,” he said. “Brent, I—” “You said later. Now roll over.” “I said maybe later,” she replied. She worried her bottom lip, considering his request. She’d never done anal before, had no idea if she’d even enjoy it. What if she hated it? What if it hurt? “Promise me you’ll go slowly? And if I ask you to stop, you will. No questions asked, okay?” “Of course. I promise.” Slowly, she rolled onto her stomach, immediately feeling more vulnerable than she’d ever felt in her life. Warm hands grasped her ankles, sliding her to the edge of the bed. “Do you have any lube?” His voice sounded thick, like he was having trouble speaking. “In the top drawer there,” she said. She heard him open the side table drawer and then a moment later she felt something warm and gooey on her ass. He rubbed the lubricant around and round, caressing her cheeks, coating her anus. He slipped one finger inside her tight little hole and Lillian closed her eyes at the decadent sensation. Painfully pleasurable, sinfully sweet. “Ah, Lily, I want to fuck you right there,” Brent said. “I want to put my hard cock in your ass and ride you until you scream your release.” He moved his finger in and out, loosening her up, then added another digit, stretching her even more. She could hear his harsh breathing, imagined him stroking his cock with one hand as he fingered her asshole with the other. “This will be easier if you get on your knees,” he said. Lillian tried to comply but her legs felt made of rubber. “Here, let me help you.” He grasped her waist and lifted her into position. “First, your not-so-little toy.” The sound of the vibrator whirring to life filled the room. A moment later, the soft rubber head slid along her soaking wet slit. Lillian shivered and arched her back, instinctively moving her hips in time with Brent’s caresses. The vibrator touched upon her sensitized clit and she jumped. “Easy.” Brent stroked her buttocks and spoke softly to her. “Your pussy is so fucking wet.”
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He moved the vibrator up and down, achingly slowly, dipping the head into her tight channel with each passing stroke. Lillian shivered and her thighs quivered as she tried to hold herself steady. “Please,” she said, nearly choking on the word. “Please, Brent. Fuck me.” “Oh yes, Lily,” he told her, slipping the vibrator into her pussy, “I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” He worked the rubber tool in and out, slow and deep. Lillian moved her hips, bucking against it, driving it deeper with every backward thrust. Her pussy tightened, gripping the long, thick shaft, and she struggled to draw a full breath. Behind her, Brent moved against her, rubbing his cock up and down, from her pussy to her anus. Lillian’s entire body vibrated and she tightened her muscles, anticipating his next move. “Don’t tense up on me. Relax, baby. You’re going to love this, I promise.” Still working the vibrator in and out of her slick pussy, Brent pressed the head of his cock inside her anus. She closed her eyes, her entire being focused on the feel of him, filling her, sliding slowly inside, deeper and deeper still. The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, a nearly overwhelming feeling of pleasure mixed with pain, of being dominated and possessed so completely. “God, Lily, you’re so tight.” Brent’s words came out strained as he moved his hips, pulling out, pushing back in, unbearably slow. Suddenly, the bed began to shake. No gentle rocking but a thrashing about that would have toppled Lillian over, had Brent not had her in his grip. “Jesus, someone has really bad timing.” Brent grasped her waist. “Hang on.” Lillian’s arms gave out and she fell forward, resting her forehead on the bed. Someone? So Brent believed her grandmother—or some other ghostly presence—was messing with them too? “Not now,” she muttered under her breath. “Please not now.” The bed shook one more time, then stilled. “Are you okay?” Brent moved inside her again, a gentle push-pull that made her senses tingle. Lillian didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted her ass high in the air, bracing herself against his carefully orchestrated onslaught. And oh, how carefully he worked her! The vibrator moved in and out, tipped slightly so as to hit her clit with every stroke, its rhythm the opposite to that of his thrusting cock. The friction created nearly drove her wild and every nerve ending in her body tingled in response. Filled, possessed, taken—the emotions evoked by such thoughts made her breath catch and drove her to new heights of pleasure. No pain. Not now. Only a frantic need to be fucked. Harder and deeper and harder still. She moaned her frustration at Brent’s careful ministrations and bucked her hips. “Fuck me.” A harsh, guttural demand. “Fuck me hard. Please!” 131
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“Oh God. Yeah.” Brent grasped her waist with one hand, digging his fingers into her flesh and holding her steady as he rammed the pulsing dildo deeper and jackhammered his hips, driving his long, thick cock harder and faster. “How’s this, baby? Is this what you need?” “Yes!” Lillian cried out as her pussy convulsed and the first ripple of her orgasm hit her like a wave, washing her along at breakneck speed. Her vision blurred and she gasped for breath. “Yes. Oh yes!” “That’s it. Oh yeah, baby. That’s it.” Brent’s hips moved faster, pounding against her. “I’m going to come. Here it comes, baby. Oh God, yeah. Here it comes.” He thrust forward, burying himself inside her and pulsing his hips as he filled her ass with white-hot cum, ramming the vibrator deep in her pussy. Lillian cried out as another, even more intense wave of pleasure washed over her. Brent fell forward, pinning her beneath him on the mattress. “You are an amazing fuck, Lily.” He nipped her shoulders, biting his way up to her neck. “And no matter what you think, that’s a compliment.” Lillian didn’t respond. After all, what could she say? Gee, thanks, Brent. You’re a great fuck too. And? So? Where did that leave them? She loved sex. Had discovered just how much she loved sex since meeting Brent. But sex wasn’t everything and sooner or later the two of them would go their separate ways. The thought made her throat close. “Do you still want me to leave?” he asked in her ear. “Just go to sleep.” She rolled to her side, spooning against him, facing away so he couldn’t see the tears streaming down her cheeks.
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Chapter Fifteen Brent didn’t have a clue what he’d done to piss Lily off this time but whatever it was, it must have been really bad. After making love last night and again this morning, she hadn’t said two words to him. She’d completely ignored him, as if he wasn’t even lying in the same damn bed. Her behavior drove him nuts and it needed to change fast. She’d left for work while he was in the shower, not bothering to say goodbye. The feelings her action—or rather non-actions—evoked made him feel…used. Like she’d simply substituted his hard cock for her vibrator, when either one would have worked just as well. “Damn.” He flicked the switch on the DVD player and the machine lit up. Maybe her anger wasn’t anything new. Maybe she was still pissed at him from before—hadn’t fully gotten the bad feelings out of her system. Well, if four hours of incredible sex hadn’t helped, he didn’t know what would. He supposed he just needed to apologize again. Maybe then she would tell him what he needed to be sorry for. Brent took a sip of coffee and sat on Lily’s couch, ready to view the hours of video he’d recorded since installing the cameras. He’d hoped there wouldn’t be a need to look at them but Fran told him more items were missing and Henry was acting more oddly than usual the past few days. He flipped on the television and the black screen turned blue. Settling back against the cushions, he waited for something to happen, hoping he’d caught some interesting. Something besides empty hallways and dusty old antique furniture. Ten minutes into the tape, something floated—there was no other way to describe it—floated across the camera. He hit the pause button, studying the wispy, gauzy mass. His neck hairs rose to attention and his skin prickled as he remembered the crazy noises and weird stuff that happened every time he and Lily made love. What the hell? Pushing the play button, he watched another few minutes, staring wide-eyed at the screen. The white mass drifted and grew larger, until it nearly filled the screen. A second later, Henry walked into view, a stogie clutched between his teeth. “Well, damn.” Brent sat back, laughing uneasily. “So much for ghosts. Try cigar smoke, Brent, you moron.” As he continued watching, the new nurse popped into view, searching through drawers of the library. For what? The camera kept panning the room, bringing her in
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and out of view. A moment later, she was gone. Had she taken something, or was she merely helping out her charges? The recording kept rolling—empty rooms from various angles—and soon Brent’s eyelids began to droop. He paused the video and stood to stretch and go fetch more coffee. Falling asleep on the job wasn’t something he normally did but after performing last night—and then again this morning—his body felt a little like a wet rag. A used and discarded wet rag. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he frowned. How would Lily react to him when she got home tonight? And if she continued to treat him coldly, how long could he stick around and take it? He shook his head. At least he was away from his asshole coworkers. The less time he had to spend with those jerks, the happier he’d be. He added cream and sugar to his mug then headed back into the living room. Settling back on the sofa, he rested his stocking feet on the long, low coffee table, reached for the remote and clicked play. He set it to go at two times the normal speed and fast-forwarded through the dark, evening hours, which still left him with hours to review. The nurse was on camera a lot but she didn’t appear to be doing anything out of the ordinary. Grace came into view a few times but she never entered either Fran or her brother’s room, so she couldn’t be the thief. Henry only showed up twice—once with his cigar and once the night before when everyone, including Lillian, was gathered together in the library. Brent glanced at his watch. What an absolute waste of a morning. His cell phone rang and he stood up to stretch, desperately needing the break from the television screen. “Kennedy,” he answered. “It’s Fran. I need your help downstairs, ASAP. Henry has collapsed. I called 9-1-1.” She hung up before he could respond. He turned the television off, found his shoes and wallet and was running down the stairs not two minutes later. He burst into the kitchen, nearly tripping over Henry, who lay unconscious and pale on the floor. “What happened?” “I have no idea.” Fran, on her knees beside Henry, didn’t look up as she continued waving something under his nose. “I came down to get some lunch and he was on the floor.” “Where’s the nurse?” he asked. “I haven’t seen her at all today. She’s usually down to give everyone their morning medicine. I thought maybe she was with you and your mom?” “I’ll check. Have you called Lillian yet?” “I was hoping to wake him up with these smelling salts but it doesn’t seem to be working.” She pocketed the bottle and stood up. “I hear the sirens. I’ll ride to the hospital with him and call Lillian when we get there.”
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“Once you get loaded, I’ll find the nurse and tell her what’s happening.” He walked to the intercom and buzzed in the ambulance and then opened the back door just as Ralph, the caretaker, burst in. “What’s the matter?” he asked. Brent explained what happened and pointed toward the kitchen. He held the door for the paramedics as they came bounding up the back walkway. They hurried inside and Brent led them back to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, they moved a still-non-responsive Henry onto the stretcher. They asked Fran questions regarding the old man’s health, took his vitals and then placed a call to the hospital, notifying the duty nurse of their impending arrival. Fran handed one of the men a pill case, gave them a few more pieces of the older man’s medical history and threw on her coat. Brent led them out of the kitchen and toward the back door, again opening it as they pulled the stretcher through. He watched them load Henry into the back of the ambulance, his throat tight with concern. He’d come to respect the old man—to love him, actually, like a member of his own family. “He’ll be just fine, young man,” Fran said as she breezed by him and out the door. “Now help an old lady up into the truck, would you, dear?” Brent cleared his throat and followed Fran down the walk. He opened the passenger side door and took Fran’s arm as she climbed inside. “I’ll be right behind you,” he said. He shut the door and then watched for a moment as they turned around and sped down the winding driveway. Thank God they hadn’t had any snow in a few days. The ambulance would make good time. “You need any help?” Brent turned to find Ralph standing quietly beside him. He’d completely forgotten about the old caretaker. “I have to find the nurse,” Brent told him. “Would you mind cleaning up that mess in the kitchen?” “Be happy to.” Ralph’s sad tone belied his words. Brent nodded, sharing a brief moment of understanding with the older man. Nothing happy about this moment. Nothing at all. “I’ll find Ms. Hansen and then head on to the hospital. I’ll call you with any news.” The two men headed back into the house, parting ways in the foyer as Brent went off to find out why the newest nurse hadn’t been there when she’d been needed the most.
*****
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Lillian stepped inside the silent hospital room, surprised to find Grampy all alone. She figured Fran would have stayed with him until she arrived but apparently not. Lillian walked to the bed and tears filled her eyes. Poor Grampy. He looked so pale—so much older than he’d looked to her just the night before. He lay there, unconscious and unresponsive, with tubes hooked to his arms. She hadn’t been at the hospital when he arrived, she’d been at the clinic office, seeing her patients. Fran hadn’t called until they’d gotten Grampy settled into a room, saying she figured Lillian would be better off tending her duties than hanging around waiting on test results. Lillian reached for her grandfather’s hand. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and took his pulse, then laid her palm against his stubbly cheek to see if he felt warm. She hated this. The feeling of helplessness, of not knowing what was wrong or how to fix it. As a doctor, she’d been trained to heal. But according to Grampy’s doctor, the cause of his illness remained a mystery. What had made the old man sick? She’d given the nurse several different drugs in an effort to help her grandfather to get over the stomach troubles he’d been having lately. She searched her mind, trying to think if he’d complained of any other specific ailments in the last few days, but came up blank. No fever. No body aches. Just stomach problems for several days. Oh and his throat felt raw. And he said his feet itched. None of which added up to a hill of beans as far as Lillian was concerned. Itchy feet shouldn’t make a person lose consciousness. She sat on the chair in the corner of the room, bone-weary from the emotional roller coaster she’d been on lately. And now this. Hopefully, the blood and urine tests they’d performed would show something. They seemed their only hope. The man was literally fading away in front of her. “Do you want some coffee or water?” Brent stopped just inside the doorway. “What are you doing here?” He was the last person she wanted to see. “You seem to ask that question a lot lately.” Brent chuckled. “I came to sit with you, just like you did for me when Mom was in here.” “You didn’t have to.” And you shouldn’t have. This is my family and you will never be part of it. “I know.” He handed her a bottle of water. “I want to be here with you, Lily. I want to be with you wherever you are. I would have hoped you’d have figured that out already.” “I thought you were with me to fuck my ass and use my money as a reward for satisfying me?” She refused to meet his eyes as she made the snippy comment but damn it, she was pissed. “So you are still angry about that?”
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“And you call yourself a detective. Of course I’m still mad at you!” She glanced at Grampy, not wishing to disturb him and wondering if he were truly still unconscious. “What did you think? All you had to do was walk into my apartment, fuck me a few times and I’d forget all about it?” “But if you’re still mad, then why— Oh I get it. Now everything makes sense.” Brent sat next to her on a matching chair. “The cold shoulder this morning. Not even saying goodbye. You were trying to teach me a lesson, right?” “Something like that.” She opened the bottle of water and took a drink. “Lily, I’ve never taken a dime from you. Ever. Why would you think I wanted to use you for your money?” “How the hell should I know? You’re the one who said it.” She looked away, knowing she wasn’t making any sense but unable to think rationally when she was filled with so much anger. “Maybe you were waiting to make sure I’d fallen for your bullshit before you asked for my checkbook.” “Would never happen. You know it. I’m sorry for saying those things, Lily.” He tried to grab her hand but she pulled it away. “That’s not enough, Brent.” She crossed her arms. “Some things can’t be unsaid.” “Lily, I didn’t mean it,” he pleaded. “You can’t possibly believe I did.” “I don’t know what to believe.” She faced him then. “I thought we were falling… I mean, I thought we were building a relationship based on more than just sex. I know how things started out but I thought there was more.” “There is, damn it.” He grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry I said that crap but I felt like they’d pinned me in a corner.” “So you just went and soiled my reputation? That made you feel better?” She dragged her arm back. “Next time Grace shows up there, what the hell are they going to say behind my back? Snickers and laughs? Did you even think of that? What if I spread a rumor around all the hospitals about how puny your cock is and you found out?” “It’s not though.” “And I haven’t paid you to have sex with me, have I? I think not.” “Got me there.” “Damn right I have you there.” She crossed her legs and stared at her grandfather, willing him to wake up. “What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked. “I can’t lose you, Lily. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” “If that’s the case, why badmouth me in front of a bunch of jerks who don’t mean squat to you? You abuse me and appease them. That’s damned backward.” He sat silent, as if carefully considering his answer. “Can I have a second chance?” he asked quietly.
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“I don’t think so. No.” She shook her head. “Two-faced people aren’t particularly appealing to me.” “Fine.” He stood. “I’ll move Mom out today.” “No, you won’t.” Lillian shook her head. “She stays to heal. But you can move out.” “I can’t. The thefts are my only assignment, remember? I have to stay there until I solve them or I will lose my job.” “Better get back there then and figure them out.” She tipped her chin up and turned her head, effectively dismissing him. She was surprised he waited as long as he did before leaving the hospital room. When he was gone she released a deep sigh and felt the muscles in her neck finally unclench. She loved him but hell if she would let any man make her miserable. No way. “How did you get such sass, Missy?” Grampy rasped from the bed. She chuckled and walked closer so he wouldn’t have to strain himself. “Well, hello there, handsome. How do you feel?” “Awful. Like someone ran me over. Do they know how to fix me yet?” “I haven’t seen a doctor or nurse yet. I can go see…” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Stay with me. I sent Fran away because she was so upset that she was babbling.” He chuckled. “She’s as crazy as the rest of us, you know.” “Be nice.” Lillian frowned. “You were awake before? I didn’t know that.” “Sure. Woke up right after they got me here. Listen, Lil, I have to tell you something.” He drew a deep, labored breath. “I’ve been gambling again. Not big like before but you know…it’s the football season and I love the Steelers.” “Can’t you watch without betting on the game? Sheesh.” “What fun is that? This way, I’m a part of the game.” “Why are you telling me this?” “Because if I die, I may have people coming to collect some money.” “Grampy,” she warned. “How much?” “Just ten Gs.” “Ten Gs, where do you get this language?” She shook her head. “Is it you stealing the silver and pawning it?” “No.” He shook his head and his eyes drifted shut. “I’ve just been letting my losses build up. Now I hit a bad number and need to pay up.” “Fine. We’ll settle this when you get home.” Lillian took his hand, gave him a gentle squeeze. “And no more talk about dying. You’re going to be just fine.” “Hello, dear. I’m glad you got my message.” Lillian looked up as Fran breezed in the room.
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“We lost another nurse, I’m afraid,” her aunt continued. “I can’t imagine why this time. We were all on our best behavior. Grace didn’t even refuse her medication or run away.” “Not again.” Lillian sank into the chair beside the bed. “What am I going to do now?” “Hire a nurse from the hospital,” Grampy said. “We’ll pay better, pay much better, give her free room and board. Or maybe, maybe even a nursing student. That would be good enough for us. We aren’t that much work.” “No, you aren’t. You’re just all zany.” A gray-haired man with freckled skin, dressed in a white lab coat, came in the room. “I’m Doctor Lewis Randolph, Mr. Smythe. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The doctor shook Grampy’s hand. The doctor turned to Fran and then Lillian. “Is this your wife and daughter?” “No. Fran there,” he waved in her direction, “is my sister-in-law and this pretty girl is my granddaughter.” “Have the tests come back?” Lillian asked. “Yes, they did.” He glanced down at a ream of papers he held in his hands. “The blood work shows your red and white blood cell counts are way low but it’s your urine sample that intrigued me the most.” “Only a doctor would be intrigued by piss.” “Fran,” Lillian scolded, shooting her aunt a dirty look. “It appears that you’ve been poisoned, Mr. Smythe.” “Poisoned? Poisoned? How can that be?” Grampy tried to sit up. Lillian leaned over and pushed his shoulder gently back onto the bed. “You have very high levels of arsenic in your body,” Dr. Randolph said. “Arsenic?” Grampy repeated. “Where the hell would that have come from? Where, I ask?” “Possibly the water?” The doctor shrugged. “Perhaps somewhere in your home you have chemicals…” “There are six other people living in the manor. Six other people. None of them are ill,” Grampy tried to sit up again. “Just listen, Grampy.” She patted his back again and then gently rubbed circles, hoping to calm him. “I’m not certain how this happened to you, Mr. Smythe. I just know the arsenic levels in your urine are very high, which means you’ve recently taken the poison into your body somehow and which also explains the symptoms you are experiencing.” Dr. Randolph shoved the medical file he’d been looking at under his arm. “We’ll get you back on your feet soon. I guarantee it.”
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Lillian never guaranteed anything to her patients. How could you? Anything could go wrong. “Any other questions?” He paused, waiting for them to say something. When they didn’t, he continued, “I’ll be back tomorrow. If you need me, the nurses have my contact information for this evening.” He said goodbye and saw himself out the door. “Had to be the nurse,” Fran said. “Why else would she leave without warning? How else would he have been poisoned? Henry, you haven’t been eating the rat poison, have you?” “Aunt Fran, they have all left without warning.” “How else would the man get poisoned?” Fran repeated. “She must have slipped something in his FiberLax. How else would she get him sick without getting all of us?” Lillian thought about phoning Brent and suggesting he take a sample of things in the kitchen. Instead, she asked Fran to make the call. “He’s your man, you call him,” Fran said. “Once he solves the thefts, he’s leaving. I don’t want him anymore.” “Liar, liar…” Fran laughed. “Give me your cell phone. I left mine at home.” Lillian pulled her phone from her purse and handed it to her aunt. She kissed Grampy’s head and told him she’d be back later. She didn’t want to hear the conversation between Brent and Fran so she walked out of the room, needing air to clean her head and help her get a handle on her wayward emotions. Arsenic! She wanted to strangle that nurse. How dare she come into Smythton Manor and hurt her family! First the thefts and now this. And the only connection Lillian could come up with was the nursing company. Not the nurses themselves but the company. The moment she’d begun working with them, things had started to go wrong. Would Brent be able to connect the dots and figure out what was going on? It would be a good opportunity for Brent to shine, maybe even get a promotion. She took the walkway connecting the main hospital to the nursing school. Her next stop was to do as Grampy suggested and place an employment ad with the admissions people asking for a student to come help. After that, she was going to the temp agency and raise hell. It was time to place a complaint with the Board of Nursing too but she wanted the satisfaction of giving the owner hell before she did it. She reached the agency two hours later, only to discover she’d wasted the trip. The place was deserted, the former tenants gone, if they’d ever been there to begin with. The storefront office under their huge sign was empty. Not even a trash can remained inside. Her hopes they’d simply relocated were dashed when she dialed the number and the phone simply continued to ring, without a machine picking up. At a loss for what to do next, she turned around and drove home. She would still file a grievance but she had a feeling there was more going on here than just negligence now. Perhaps
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something criminal. She hated to admit it but she’d need Brent’s help to figure the whole thing out.
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Chapter Sixteen Lillian came home to an eerily quiet house. She wandered the bottom floor until she heard noises coming from one of the front rooms. “Hey, kid. How’s it going?” She stepped into the library. Larry, still in his pajamas, sat on the couch, eating cold cereal. South Park blared from the television and Lillian’s two dogs lay at his feet, ready to nibble up any crumb or morsel that fell their way. “F-f-fine, Lil,” he said in between bites. “Um, Larry, do you know where everyone is?” “F-F-Fran is still at the h-h-hospital, B-B-Brent is ups-s-stairs and G-G-Grace is g-ggone.” “Oh no. Not now.” Damn, Aunt Grace. One day, just one day without a nurse and she decided to pull a disappearing act. “You say Brent’s upstairs?” Larry nodded. Lillian patted her cousin on the back and then left the room, closing the door behind her. Her heart and head were both pounding a painful rhythm. Her whole family was falling apart. She had to find Brent. He was waiting for her in her apartment when she walked in. Sitting in front of the television, he had the DVD player paused on a still shot. She walked up next to him to take a closer look, wondering why he was studying it that closely. “Did you hear anything about Aunt Grace?” she asked. “Not yet. I called the station and asked them to put out an APB. They’ll keep an eye out for her. She’ll turn up, Lily. You know she will.” He pointed to the television. “Do you see it?” he asked her before taking a long swig of what looked like three-day-old coffee. “I think so.” She walked even closer to the television. “That’s Fran’s room, isn’t it? It looks like her jewelry case.” “That’s what I thought.” “Holy cow.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “You’ve got the evidence, Brent. Holy cow.” “Looks that way.” He wrote something down on a pad of paper. “I have more, would you like to see?” “Yes, please.” Lillian sat next to him on the couch, facing the television.
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Her mouth fell open when she saw the other clips of video. He’d found the nurse putting something from a plastic baggie into Grampy’s glass and mixing it with his FiberLax. “I’ll be damned,” she said. Brent’s phone rang and he pushed stop on the video player. “Kennedy.” He sat quiet for a moment. “Grace is at the station.” He covered the phone to tell her and then talked back into the mouthpiece. “We’ll be right down to get her.” “Thank God. Where did they find her?” “Same spot. Pollman’s.” He tossed the remote on the table. “Let’s go get her.” “I can just go.” She stood quickly but he grabbed her arm, holding her back. “I have some business to take care of. We’ll go together.” He stopped to tell his mom they were leaving and asked if she needed anything. Lillian told Larry to stay put, that they were bringing Aunt Grace home and Aunt Fran would be back shortly. “What does he do all day?” “Who?” Lillian asked as they left the house. She put the hood of her coat up, avoiding the large snowflakes falling, yet again, from the sky. “Your cousin.” He stopped near his pickup. “Oh, this and that. Hangs out with Grampy mostly. He’s probably lost without him there.” She continued on to the garage. “Where you going?” he called. “My car is easier for Grace to get in and out of,” she said. She tossed him the keys. “I’ll even let you drive.” She opened the passenger door of the Mercedes and got in, curious what his reaction would be. He hadn’t seen it yet, hadn’t ridden in it or discussed it with her. “When did you get this?” He slid into the driver’s seat, caressed the steering wheel and immediately started playing with the knobs and buttons. “The day I found out you thought I was a good fuck.” “You are a good fuck. A great fuck.” “So are you, Brent.” Lillian sighed and turned her face toward the window. “That and a buck seventeen will get me a cup of coffee.” “We can’t do this now, Lily. There’s too much going on.” Brent’s voice was low and smooth in the darkness. “But we will finish this discussion later. You and I have a few issues we need to resolve.”
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They drove on in silence. The heated seats calmed her muscles and nerves. She wasn’t excited to be facing the men down at the police station. Not with what they thought they knew about her As they entered the downtown area, her thoughts were interrupted by the crowds of people filling the streets. With all the commotion, Lillian had completely forgotten tonight was New Year’s Eve. Women dressed in fancy, sparkly evening gowns, accompanied by men in suits and rented tuxedos, filed into the American Legion as they drove past. “We could stop there on the way home.” Brent nodded toward the Legion hall. “My mom used to go every year. It was the only time I remember ever having a babysitter. She wore the same black dress every year too.” He chuckled. “Had she not fallen and cracked her head open, I would have bought her a new one for this year’s.” Lillian fought the warm feelings his words evoked but failed miserably. Brent Kennedy had a good heart. She’d known it almost from the moment she’d met him. Could she forgive him one mistake? One utterly huge mistake. “The only thing I really remember about my dad is how hard he worked for so little money. He was hardly ever home and I think Mom was lonely. We were poor as dirt.” He turned onto the road that led up to the city buildings, including the police station. “I don’t know how we managed most days. We ate a lot of mac and cheese growing up. Didn’t have a lot of special things but we always had enough. “My ex-wife wanted more,” he continued. “I was pretty comfortable with a simple house, a couple of newer vehicles. I didn’t need a whole lot, wasn’t used to it. Wasn’t even comfortable around it. Wealthy people intimidated me back then.” “Not now?” “A little.” She saw his smile in the moonlight. “But you’re not uppity about your wealth, Lily. Or at least you weren’t.” “I am now?” “This car?” “Mine was about dead,” she said. “I needed something reliable and comfortable. I worked hard for what I have, so I treated myself.” “You chose well. This thing is awesome.” He pulled into the parking lot, parked in his normal spot and killed the engine. They climbed out and walked to the back, officer entrance, a tension hanging in the air. Grace was playing cards in the lounge with the men again. Lillian could hear their laughter. She walked in, cleared her throat to gain their attention. “Aunt Grace? Time to go home.” “I can’t leave just yet,” Grace told her. “These gentlemen owe me some cash.”
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“Well, while you are all here, I have an announcement to make.” Brent’s voice rang loud and clear. The men looked up at him expectantly and Lillian turned, raising a brow. What was he up to now? “What I said last week about Lillian was inappropriate,” he started. “She’s a classy lady. She doesn’t use her money to manipulate me. In fact, if she was broke, I would still love her.” Did he just say what she thought he did? Love? The men snickered. “Shut up,” Brent snapped. “You assholes have been on my back since the first day I got here. You can just go to hell, all of you. I do my job and I do it damn well. You mind your personal business and stay the fuck out of mine.” “Damn.” One of the cops spoke up. “It’s about time you got your balls on. You’re a good man, Kennedy, you just need to loosen up a little bit. Damn.” He laughed. “I don’t give a shit who you sleep with and you’re right, you do a hell of a job.” “I’m sorry I said what I said to them about you, Lillian.” He crossed his arms. “I don’t know what else to do to make it up to you.” “Come on, Aunt Grace. Let’s go.” The older woman collected her winnings, pushing the dollars and coins into her very old, very large, handbag. Brent pulled out her chair and took her hand to help her up. “You beat us but good again, Miss Grace. Stay away for a while, will ya? I can’t afford to see you so often,” another officer said with a wink at Lillian. She hoped her aunt would heed his advice. “You coming or not?” she asked Brent, who stood, looking a bit lost, in the middle of the lounge. “I am.” He smiled wide and followed her and Grace out to the parking lot. Lillian watched Brent guide Grace by the elbow toward the car. Lillian opened the door for them and they waited as Grace slid in the front passenger seat and got settled. Lillian climbed in the backseat, making sure she sat where Brent could see her in the rearview mirror but Grace could not. He looked over the backseat to reverse from the parking stall and then stopped, his mouth hanging open. She had unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her breasts covered only by a lacey pushup bra. She leaned against the seat, arched her back and began to tease her nipples. His eyes grew wide and she knew she’d caught his attention. Her tongue grazed her lips when she met his eyes in the rearview mirror. She caught his smile and continued. By the time they got home, she would be wet and ready for him. Any way he wanted her tonight, he could have her.
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He’d stood up to the pricks at the station, set the record straight and apologized. She couldn’t ask for more. He was one of the good ones. The fact that he pretended to listen to Grace as she babbled about absolutely nothing scored big points to boot. When they arrived home, she quickly rebuttoned her blouse and drew on her jacket. While Brent led Grace into the house and up to her room, Lillian went to look for Fran and make sure she’d settled Larry in for the night. Aunt Fran’s report on Grampy was a relief. He’d improved even since Lillian had been there earlier in the day. She shut down the house, set the security system and headed for the comfort and safety of her apartment, ready to unwind with the man she loved. She entered her suite, and followed the path of rose petals on the floor, illuminated in the candlelight. A shirtless Brent was waiting for her in bed, a glass of wine in his hand, and a beautiful, long-stemmed red rose stuck between his teeth like a Spanish matador. “I have a feeling I might enjoy whatever you have in mind,” she said. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t.” He laughed. “Baby, get your ass up here already. I need my woman to warm my bones.” “Moi?” she asked with a smirk. She kicked off her heels and slowly unbuttoned her blouse, enjoying how his gaze followed her every movement. Biting her lip in what she hoped looked like a coy gesture, she pushed the garment off her shoulders and leaned over, tilting her head back, showing him just what she had waiting for him. “I’m about as hard as a rock right now and if you don’t hurry, I might just take care of my cock myself.” She wanted to laugh, his voices sounded funny with the rose clenched between his teeth. “Patience, patience.” “You’re telling me to be virtuous?” He laughed. “Fine time to be bringing that up while I’m lying here naked in bed waiting to ravish you.” A whoosh of air ruffled the hair at the nape of her neck, and Lillian turned to find the source. The sight of a misty figure of a woman scared Lillian enough that while she intended to plunk herself on the edge of the bed, she instead ended up on the floor with a thud. “What the?” “Quiet down, young man,” the wispy figure said. The voice sounded as if it was coming to them through a hollow tunnel. “Who are you?” “Surely you know, Lillian Grace?” The minute she called her that, she did know exactly who the woman was. “Gramma,” Lillian whispered, almost reverently. “Fran was right. It is you.”
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The figure threw back her head and laughed. “Do you know you’re dead, Mrs. Smythe?” “I do,” she said with a nod, “but I was needed here. I had to be certain my Lillian found her true love, not just some fly-by-night fellow who wanted her body and money.” “But you’re dead,” Lillian argued. “How can you simply appear at will and…and… talk to us?” “Being dead has it privileges. I’ve learned a lot watching the two of you in fact. Henry and I never even thought about doing what you two do.” Lillian felt flush. And faint. “You going to marry her, young man, or do I need to get nasty?” To prove her point, all the candles burned out, the windows flew open and then shut again, papers whirled about and the lights flashed on and off. “I am going to marry her, Mrs. Smythe. That has been my intention for quite a while.” “Well then.” She snapped her ghostly white fingers. “I’ll be watching you.” And then she was gone. Lillian rested her head against the foot of the bed and laughed. She laughed and laughed until she cried. Terrified by a ghost one minute, and engaged to the man of her dreams the next. Life was strange and more than a little unpredictable at Smythton Manor. At least that would never change.
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Epilogue “We, the jury in the above named case, find the defendants guilty on all counts.” “Thank God!” Lillian smiled and hugged her husband as the verdict against the crooked temporary agency was read. Because of Brent’s detective work, all of the nurses who had been through Smythton Manor the previous year would do some hard time for theft and, in at least one case, attempted murder. Some of the stolen articles had even been recovered, much to Grampy’s delight. “The baby’s happy too.” Lillian took Brent’s hand and placed his palm flat against her stomach. Finally she could tell her patients what it felt like to have a baby move inside. It wasn’t quite like the gas pains she always said but it was close. Grampy and Fran met them in the lobby, equally elated with the verdict. The four of them ducked reporters and were ushered through the back door. Wealth did have its privileges. “I’m taking your grandfather on a trip this weekend,” Brent told Lillian as they were walking out the door toward the car. “I bet him that if we won today, I would go to Vegas with him. Figured he’d get it out of his system for a while.” She laughed. “That was a very smart idea. I knew there was a reason why I married you.” He kissed her and rubbed the tiny lump that was their growing child. “I think there was another reason too.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “You like me to make love to you.” “Well, yeah.” She laughed again and reached up on tiptoes to kiss him. A few days later, Brent and Grampy headed to Vegas. The first night her husband was gone, Lillian moped around like a lost puppy. Fran took pity on her and with Larry and Grace, they sat and watched a rented movie. When it was over, Fran pulled out the tarot cards. “Not again,” Lillian moaned with a roll of her eyes. “Not even the same deck, dear. I can’t seem to find the naked ones.” Lillian didn’t tell her she’d burned them at the cabin. “Let’s try to see how accurate your reading was, shall we?” Fran suggested and began laying the cards as they were the night Lillian received her birthday blessing. “We started with the Hermit.” Fran laughed. “With the round the world trip you took for your honeymoon, I would say you really have outgrown this stage, dear.” Fran put a mark next to that card on the paper that Grace had filled out almost a year ago when they’d done the reading.
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“You’re right. Brent and I are home a lot but we’re with all of you too. I sure don’t feel alone anymore.” Lillian caught Grace’s wide smile and looked away. She would not cry, no matter how happy she was. “Financially you are still stable, like the cards predicted. Not much chance in that changing anytime soon either. The third card,” she fingered the deck and found it and then laid it on the table, “was the Six of Pentacles. I guess it’s no surprise now that’s why you got the Humanitarian award last Christmas. You give a lot of yourself. But at least now you have someone to give something to you—love. We always have loved you, dear. You know that, I hope. A man’s love is different from a family’s though— isn’t it?” Lillian swallowed the lump in her throat. She was so filled with love, the love of so many people. It humbled her. “Fourth and fifth cards.” Fran continued with a cough to clear her throat, maybe even her own tears. “They both show Brent coming into your life—a change, the new relationship, the blossom of love.” Fran looked at Grace. “Put a check beside those, Grace. They were right on the ball.” “You haven’t been wrong yet,” Grace said, looking down at the checkmarks that she’d made. “The next card was the Seven of Swords. Too ironic. It’s a card of thievery and deception. I’d say we all had our share of this!” “And here is the baby card, Lillian. The Queen of Pentacles.” “I-I-I re-re-remember what you said, L-L-Lillian. You said, all in one y-y-year?” “I did, didn’t I, Larry!” She laughed, pleased that he’d remembered such a detail. “I guess I fulfilled the prophecy.” “Well that is obvious by the last card, my dear. Your birthday blessing was indeed the King of Swords. Not only was he literally the card but you found a life partner who embodies the whole meaning of the card—a man of high ethical standards, a pillar of strength, a commander of people, a wise decision-maker, with powerful emotions but keeps them under control and uses them for good.” Lillian sighed with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. “I’d say I found my King of Swords.” She leaned over and hugged her Aunt Fran. “Thank you for a birthday blessing that will indeed continue for a lifetime of happily ever after.”
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About the Authors Jill Noelle believes in true love, miracles, heroes, romance and Happily Ever After. It’s not about money, and it’s not about fame. If she succeeds in bringing joy to others through the stories she tells, she’ll consider herself a success. When Julia Daniels was fourteen, she discovered romance. Not on a personal level, but in a literary sense. She wanted to be Jane Eyre. And Emma. When Julia read her first Harlequin, she found a whole genre of books written with happy endings. Now, quite a bit older, she realized that stopping at the bedroom door wasn't very much fun, and decided to put some sizzle in her romance. When she met Jill Noelle, she knew that they would be best friends. Working with her on Birthday Blessing has been a terrific adventure. The characters seemed to take on lives of their own. We hope you enjoy it! Look for many more books and stories from Jill and Julia. A native of Wisconsin, Julia now lives in Nebraska with her husband, two children and two dogs. She is multi-published, in both novels and short stories. Jill and Julia welcome comments from readers. You can find their website and email addresses on their author bio pages at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Jill Noelle The Dark Count
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