Bliss (30 page)

“Really?” she said, smiling just a bit. His confession pleased her inordinately, even as his thoughtfulness calmed her nerves, reminding her
this was Asher.
Asher wouldn't ever embarrass her, or shame her the way Blake so often had. She could afford to be a little daring with him, to experiment with her wild side. Maybe things wouldn't work out, but then again… she was in the land of enchantment now. Maybe a little of that magic would wear off on her.

Pauline would be so proud,
she thought with a touch of humor as she stared up at the impossibly handsome Israeli.
Now, if she'll just stay out of my head for the next several hours…

“I would never joke about something as serious as a Speedo, Bliss,” Asher assured her, belying his words with a broad smile.

Sera floated closer. “I hope you don't mind if I don't take your word for that,” she grinned. “Because I really think I need to find out for myself.”

The gentle chime of a bell interrupted what was proving to be a very magical moment. Gasping, Sera pulled away from Asher, who was nibbling her neck in a way that made her nerve endings trill like a chorus of songbirds. Since she was perched atop his lap and his arms were tightly banded about her waist, she didn't get far.

“Waterfall tub, this is your five-minute reminder,” came a polite voice over the intercom.

Sera groaned.
And things were going so well.
No intrusive visions of Aunt Pauline. No yips, stutters, or stops. Only mounting passion more intense than anything she'd ever experienced. Asher had been so gentle, so thorough, stoking her desire with exquisite slowness, taking his time to treat each inch of her skin to the touch of his lips, tongue, and hands, getting to know every curve in a way that was both respectful and deeply, deeply intimate. No matter how she panted and pleaded, he wouldn't speed up either, murmuring Hebrew words she suspected meant “whoa, girl” even as he made her pulse race faster and faster. Had the bell not rung, she marveled, he might very well have rung
her
bell.
I never thought it could happen. But with Asher, everything feels so natural. I'm not self-conscious. I trust him. And more, I trust
me.

“Can we ignore that?” Sera asked, nuzzling closer.

“I only booked the tub for an hour,” Asher said regretfully. He kissed the juncture where her neck and shoulder met, soothing the sensual fires he'd started, then eased her off his lap as though it was physically painful to part from her. “Come, Bliss. I'd better take you home.”

“Darn right,” she said, taking his face in both hands and kissing him deeply. “
Your
home.”

Asher studied her seriously. “You're sure?”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Maybe the elusive orgasm would finally be hers. Maybe it wouldn't. Either way, she wanted to be with Asher tonight. “Mr. Wolf, I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Asher abandoned the tub in record time.

M
oment of truth.

Standing with Asher in his sparsely furnished bedroom, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the skylight above them, Sera expected to find herself fairly coming apart at the seams. Always in the past, she'd been uptight, anxious in intimate moments. The few boys she'd been with in college had been about as clueless as Sera herself, and with her native shyness, she'd never really managed to relax and enjoy their ministrations. She'd get so far, and then just… freeze up.

And then would come the visions.

Pauline, watching expectantly over the boy's shoulder. Pauline, shaking her head at Sera's awkward caresses. Pauline, wearing pom-poms and a cheerleading outfit, doing cartwheels and chanting fight songs that ended in “cum, cum, cum” instead of “go, go, go.” And worst of all, Pauline, demonstrating clitoral stimulation techniques.

The harder she'd try to tune out her aunt, the more intrusive the images would become.

She'd figured she'd eventually warm up, get over her awkwardness, and—
please, God
—stop being haunted by Pauline's passion pep talks. But then came Blake.

The charismatic chef had instantly attracted her. She'd craved his admiration, his affection, and at first, when he'd hit on her, she'd thought
she'd
hit the big time. A worldly, experienced lover. So debonair, so exciting. Surely,
now…
She'd had high hopes. But Blake hadn't been overly interested in Sera's satisfaction. He'd been a “wham, bam, thank-you-ma'am” sort of lover—only without the “thank you.” And when Sera—tentatively, shyly—had gotten up the nerve to ask him to slow down, maybe try a few things she thought she'd like, he'd practically tossed her out of bed on her keister.

And then he'd mocked her.

Frigid. Hopeless. Deadweight.
Those were just a few of the taunts he'd hurled at her during the time they had dated. He'd made her feel she was lucky he even tolerated her presence in his bed, given what a lousy lay she was. But in hindsight, Sera had to wonder—who'd really been the one with sexual shortcomings? Hadn't it been Blake who was impatient and selfish? She'd tried her best, but after a time she'd come to realize he actually
preferred
it when she lay there like a dutiful fifties housewife, letting Blake take, as he put it, “what little satisfaction he could.” That way, she realized, he could concentrate on what Blake liked best—Blake.

The part that shamed her, to this day, was how long she'd let him.

She'd let Blake make her feel fearful, inadequate. But tonight, with Asher, she felt neither. What she
felt
like was grabbing her date's nice button-down shirt and rending it open in one great rip.

So she did.

Or tried anyway.

The first button popped off easily enough, but the rest, well… “Whoever sewed these on must have had serious OCD,” she muttered, yanking futilely at the fabric.

Asher laughed and laid his hands over hers to still her pillaging. “Slow down, Bliss,” he said. “We have all night.”

“You don't have to treat me like some delicate virgin, you know,” Sera said. “It's very gallant, Asher, but right now…” She trailed off, eyeing him with a sidelong smile.

“Right now?” he asked. He ran one finger down the V of her dress's neckline and watched the goose bumps rise in its wake.

Sera could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, sensed his barely leashed energy even as she inhaled that uniquely Asher smell—hot metal, rampant male. She felt intoxicated; drunk with delight, with anticipation, with giddy knowledge that this delicious man wanted to be her lover as much as she wanted to be his. He'd primed her past the point of performance anxiety, and now she wanted only to feel his naked skin against hers, his heat and desire matching hers.

“Right now… I'd rather you ravished me senseless.” She backed him up against the bed with hands on his chest and a predatory leer. “And be warned, Asher… if
you
won't,
I
will.”

He would.

As it happened, Sera
did
have a visitation just as she was approaching the much-anticipated moment of her bliss. As Asher carried her ever closer to the edge, doing extraordinary things with his talented craftsman's fingers even as his body, so hot and sensual atop hers, drove her nearly mindless with desire, Sera saw a vision coalescing behind her closed eyes.

Please, not Pauline,
she thought.
Don't let anything ruin this… this… oh, God, what did he just do with his tongue, that ought to be illegal… Please, just let this happen, I can't believe how good this feels, oh… oh,
wow
, there's no way a man ought to be able to… holy wow…

But what swam into focus as Sera soared close to climax wasn't her aunt.

It was purple. It was petite. And… it was wearing what was undeniably a rhinestone-studded cowboy hat.

Hey! It's my armadillo!
Sera marveled.

It nodded at her, tipping its hat.

“Gesundheit,”
it said.

And Sera's world changed forever.

Y
ou've made Pauline a happy woman,” Sera said, rolling over atop her lover and planting a kiss on his smiling lips.

Asher, quite naked and quite obviously glad to be smothered in a blanket of Bliss, chuckled as he reciprocated. “Pauline, eh?” he said. “And what about the younger Miss Wilde?” He nudged her suggestively with his hips.

“She's living up to her name, for once,” said Sera.

“Wilde or Bliss?” he teased.

“Both.” She giggled, wriggling playfully.

“Don't start that up, my lovely one, or Pauline may overdose,” Asher warned.

“Oh, I think the old gal's earned a reward,” Sera murmured. “Let's see how happy you can make her…”

But Pauline had nothing to do with what came next—and what had already come (three times!) during one unbelievably blissful night.

An hour later, staring into the predawn sky through Asher's bedroom skylight, Serafina began to contemplate baked goods. Malcolm had first shift, and Pauline had promised to overcome her antipathy for the pie maven and help him open the store, but Sera didn't like to leave them alone together for too long. Besides, she had cupcakes, cookies, and tarts to create.

“Not to reverse a cliché, Asher, but I should probably sneak out in a few minutes,” she said with regret. “I've got to get baking pretty soon.”

His arms tightened around her, pinning her to his side in a manner that was not at all unpleasant. “Wait, please, Bliss. Before you go, there's something I need to know.” He looked a bit chagrined. “I don't quite know how to ask this without sounding like a heel.”

Sera was intrigued. “Give it a whirl,” she said, snuggling close with her head pillowed on his shoulder. She studied the uncomfortable expression that stamped his strong features, loving how she was learning to read his emotions. “I've handled a few heels in my time.”

“Bliss…” He paused, squeezed his eyes shut as though his own words pained him.
“Oy gevalt,”
he muttered. “I can't believe I'm going to ask this, but after what you told me about your troubles with your… well, with your previous attempts at intimacy… I wanted to be sure… that is…” He visibly pulled himself together and just blurted it out. “Bliss, was it good for you?”

Sera paused a beat.

“Honestly, I don't know what all the fuss is about,” she deadpanned, then burst out laughing when she saw the look on Asher's face.

Asher growled, tickling her sides mercilessly until she shrieked.

When she could breathe again, Sera stretched up and kissed his chin, mirth fading from her eyes. “Asher, ‘good' doesn't even begin to describe how I feel. You've given me a gift—one I won't ever forget. You've… I don't know… freed me, I guess. And it feels amazing.”

Asher looked pleased with himself. He stroked one finger along her spine, sending thrills down Sera's back and all the way down to her toes. “You have freed me as well. I was frozen in the past for such a long time, but now I'm very much looking forward to my future. And…” He looked uncertain. “I know it's probably too soon to speak of such things, but… Bliss, I very much hope you will be a part of that future.”

If there was a better feeling than orgasm, Sera had just discovered it. Screw chocolate. Screw winning the lotto.
This
was the jackpot.

“I am going to bake you
such
a babka,” was what she said.

M
onday evening after work, the Back Room Babes piled into Bliss, took one look at Sera, and shrieked with delight.

“He's done it!” howled Aruni.

“That's our boy!” squealed Syna.

“Hurrah for the hot landlord!” Janice did a little dance, pumping her fists over her head.

Pauline plopped down on one of the shop's overstuffed armchairs, letting her minions settle about her with pastries and hot cups of joe. “I take complete credit, of course,” she said. Her smile was pure smug.

Sera tried to take the ribbing with grace, topping off cups and handing out napkins for her friends as they made themselves at home in the shop. After all, for the past three days, she had spent every waking moment not otherwise occupied with hot ovens over at Asher's house learning just how hot and steamy
he
could be. The BRBs weren't the only ones who wanted to crow over Asher's prowess. Sera just wanted to do her crowing
privately.
And she preferred to think of it as “expressing her passionate delight.” Decorously, of course. Never mind that she'd been expressing her delight so passionately since Friday night that Silver had taken to howling in solidarity from his kennel halfway across the house.

“Everyone got what they need?” she asked, scanning the women who'd been able to make it tonight. Bobbie, Syna, Janice, Aruni, Hortencia, and Pauline made a comfortable sextet (or sex-tête-à-tête, as Pauline had quipped) in the now-empty bakery. Sera was touched that, with only a phone call, so many of her new
compadres
had mobilized in her defense—and they didn't even know what was up yet. Pauline had simply said Sera needed them, and they'd dropped everything. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a group of friends so fiercely loyal—even if they did insist on embarrassing the hell out of her.

“We know y'all got what
you
need, mama!” Janice joked. “One look at your face, and I can tell you're a changed woman.”

“Yeah, sister, you
glow.
” This from Syna, who was beaming rather brightly herself.

Sera suspected they were confusing “glow” with “mortified flush.”

“Tell us everything, girl!” Aruni folded her legs lotus style, her slight figure barely making a dent in her armchair. “Was he gentle? Or did he go all Israeli commando on you once you hit the sheets?”

Friedrich, who'd been polishing counters with a rag as he helped close up shop, dug his ear buds deeper into his red-tinged ears and spun the dial on his iPod until Sera could distinctly hear Wagner's
The Ring of the Nibelung
leaking out. He kept his eyes downcast, but Sera caught him sneaking glances at Aruni. And though the yogini tried playing it cool, Sera definitely saw Aruni peek back at the barista from beneath her unruly curls when she thought no one was looking.

A little young for her, but hey,
Sera thought, smiling inwardly. The kid was reliable, diligent, and as far as she knew, not at all a
putz
like Aruni's ex.
Maybe mine's not the only romance that could bloom around here, given a little attention. Hmm, maybe if I can get those two together, the BRBs will drop the topic of
my
love life…

Sera perched gingerly on the edge of the coffee table around which the BRBs had gathered. Beads of sweat formed at her temples as she pictured Asher overhearing the Babes' raunchy conversation. Things between them were so new, so extraordinary, she didn't want to sully her memories of their time together with graphic girl-talk. “Guys, thanks for the vote of confidence, but, um, I'd really rather not go into our private business…”

She clapped her hands over her ears against the wave of boos and hisses that washed over her.

“All right, all right! Listen
up,
ladies,” Pauline hollered, waving a chocolate éclair like a conductor's baton for silence. “Much as I regret my niece's continuing reticence in all matters carnal, I didn't call you over here to congratulate her on her initiation into the Big-O Society. Fact is, women, we are at war, and we must gird our loins for battle!” She bit off half the éclair in one ferocious bite. “Bls's brstid e-byfred's oofer bld, ah we gorra schtup 'm.”

Blank looks met her pronouncement.

Hortencia harrumphed, tossing a look of mild disgust at her partner. “What this glutton over here's trying to say is, Sera's rotten ex-boyfriend is in town, and he's trying to ruin her life—and not for the first time. We've got to figure out how to stop him before he succeeds.”

Pauline swallowed the bite of gooshy pastry, choking a bit. “Right. What Horsey said.”

Sera handed her aunt a glass of water, addressing the ladies
en masse.
“It's true,” she said glumly. “Blake's back, and he's up to his old tricks.” She explained, in as few words as possible, what Blake had done a year ago, and what he was up to now. “Anyhow,” she finished, “he's here in Santa Fe and he's already started the smear campaign.” She handed around a copy of the
Chile Paper
's article. “So, if you guys have any ideas about what I should do, I'd love to hear them.”

There was a silence as the four women who were new to the situation huddled close to one another to read. Hortencia and Pauline sat back, waiting for them to finish, while Sera rubbed her temples, where a headache was starting to set in. Asher was coming to pick her up in a little while, and she just wanted to forget what had happened with Blake last week and enjoy her lover's company. Yet she knew she couldn't let Blake's perfidy gain momentum—the longer she let it lie, the more time he had to prepare his next salvo. She needed help, and the Back Room Babes were her greatest allies. They had deep roots in the community. They knew people; owned businesses, some of them. Hopefully, they'd be able to come up with some creative solutions to counteract Blake's slurs before they could cut into Sera's business.

Or if it comes to that, there's enough of us to tackle him in a dark alley,
Sera thought darkly.
Wonder if they'd be game for a little skullduggery?

It didn't take long for the BRBs to show how “game” they were.

With claws extended, they tore the tabloid to shreds.

“What a dick!” Aruni was incensed.

“I'll let my pet rat Rudy loose in his restaurant,” Janice vowed.

“Let's stage a protest outside and let everyone know what a bully he is,” Syna suggested. “I've still got a set of bongos left from the Occupy protests.”

“String him up by the balls, is my vote,” Pauline growled. “I've got the twine all ready. The
scratchy
twine.”

“I've told you a hundred times, Pauline, barbed wire's
much
better in cases like these,” Hortencia argued as she fastidiously gathered up the shreds of newspaper. “Really gets caught in the—”

A sharp, Gollum-like cough rattled the shop's windows, announcing the arrival of Ms. Marnie Pyle.

Six hours late, and less than excited to be there, if her expression was anything to go by. The reporter lethargically fished her notepad and digital recorder out of her messenger bag as she eased the front door shut behind her with one foot.

That woman needs an enthusiasm transplant, STAT.
“Guys, this is Marnie Pyle,” Sera said formally. “Since she wrote the, ah, profile on Blake's new restaurant, as well as the original article on Bliss, we asked her to come over so we could address some of the issues Blake raised in his quotes.”
Like how he basically called me a frigid hack who wasn't qualified to serve
snack cakes at a supermarket, let alone run my beautiful Bliss.
“Marnie, thanks for coming. We expected you a bit earlier, or I would have had my friends come by another time.” Sera rose to shake the woman's hand, trying not to shudder at the dead-fishiness of her grip.

“Good lord, what's wrong with her
head?
” Syna whispered to Aruni as she gawked at the skeletal newcomer. “It looks like one of my son's Lego action figures!”

Aruni shushed her, smothering a grin.

The reporter barely acknowledged the other women. “Sorry,” Marnie muttered, retrieving her hand as though Sera's were crawling with cooties. “I was hoping to catch you after hours. I didn't realize you'd have company.”

“We weren't sure you'd make it,” Sera replied neutrally, “so we decided to go ahead and have our get-together.”

“I can come back another time,” Marnie offered. Plainly, the prospect pained her.

“Please stay,” Hortencia interjected, switching on the apple-cheeked charm. She turned to the BRBs, who were giving Marnie slitty-eyed stares. “Let's make Miss Pyle welcome, shall we? She's here to set the record straight about Blake's recent remarks,” Hortencia reminded the women pointedly. “Isn't that right?” Now her gaze skewered the reporter.

Marnie cleared her perpetually clogged throat. “Well,” she demurred, “I'll take Miss Wilde's statement anyhow. I can't promise we'll publish anything. We've got very limited space each week, and we have to save it for original stories. If anything, Miss Wilde's rebuttal might make a sidebar in the food section, but we'll see.”

Janice's waitressing instincts kicked in. “Miz Pyle, take my seat, why don'cha,” she said, hopping up and dusting off her chair for the reporter. “I'll just cop a squat over here.” She plunked her butt down on an ottoman a little out of the circle of women. “Unless… Serafina, you want us gals to leave so y'all can have your interview?”

Pauline answered for her. “Women, you're staying. I want Miss Pyle here to understand what my niece is up against, and to hear—in front of witnesses—just how she's been slandered.”

“Libeled,” muttered the reporter. “Nobody ever gets that. It's
libel
when it's in print—not that that's what the
Chile Paper
did. We just quoted the chef's remarks,” she grumbled. “We're not responsible for their content.”

With another dry cough, Marnie took the seat Janice had vacated and pulled out her digital recorder and pad. Aruni made way for Sera to sit across from the reporter, strolling with studied innocence to stand near where Friedrich had started bussing tables at the rear of the store. She struck a stretchy yoga pose that just
happened
to show off her lithe figure to good advantage, smiling sidelong at the barista until he blushed and busied himself with a tub of dirty cups and plates. On Sera's left, Hortencia patted her knee comfortingly, while Pauline, on her right, chucked her on the shoulder, muttering, “Go get'r, Tiger!” far too loudly in Sera's ear.

“So,” Marnie said. “You wanted to respond to Chef Austin's comments, Miss Wilde?”

Shit. What am I gonna say, “Blake's a big fat liar, waaah?”
While that pretty much covered it, Sera didn't think Lego-head would be any too impressed with the “he pushed me on the playground” defense. She should have been planning her rebuttal to Blake's slander—excuse her,
libel
—all weekend, but she'd been a
tad
distracted by the man she'd fallen crazy in love with. Now was her chance to fight back, and she'd better grab it, prepared or not.
Put on your big-girl panties, Serafina,
she commanded herself.
Say something dignified.

Sera cleared her throat. “Well, yes, I—”

“Hello, ladies,” called a voice from the front of the shop. “Hello, Friedrich.”

All heads turned. Chins rose, bellies sucked themselves in, and hairdos found themselves fluffed.

“Asher!” cried the women.

“Yo, Ash,” Friedrich mumbled, deigning to remove his ear buds and give the taller man a shy smile. There was a definite hint of hero worship in the kid's expression.

Sera couldn't blame him. Her heart was suddenly beating a whole lot faster, and a goofy grin spread itself across her face without asking permission. She waved shyly.

Asher strolled over and the BRBs parted, Red Sea–style. He made himself at home on the arm of Sera's overstuffed chair, stroking her cheek with a fond finger and gifting her with a smile that made her lungs forget how to do their job. In his eyes, Sera could see memories of the weekend they'd shared… and the promise of more pleasure to come.

“Hey, Ash,” she said, voice huskier than normal. “You know all the BRBs, right?” At his nod, she continued with the introductions. “And this is Marnie Pyle, a journalist from the
Chile Paper
.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Pyle,” Asher said politely, though his eyes never left Sera. His clever fingers began tracing the length of Sera's arm from wrist to elbow. Sera shivered happily, his caress momentarily hypnotizing her into a pleasure daze.

A sharp cough jolted Sera out of her reverie.

Oh, right. Introductions are supposed to go both ways. But should I introduce him as my landlord, or…
Sera decided to keep things simple. “Marnie, this is Asher Wolf.”

“You're Miss Wilde's boyfriend?” Marnie asked, displaying the first honest interest she'd shown since she walked in the door. The wide-jowled journalist eyed the tall Israeli speculatively. A bit
too
speculatively.

Her taste buds might be dead, but her libido's still kickin'.
Sera winced, silently cursing the reporter's question. Men hated labels. Labels made them squirm and twitch—and sometimes run for the hills. Asher wasn't a runner—by now Sera knew that much—but despite three unforgettable evenings of romantic dates and nights of passionate lovemaking, they'd yet to have the dreaded, “let's define our relationship” talk. Sera held her breath, blanking on ways to head disaster off at the pass.

But Asher appeared unfazed.

“Yes, I am,” he said cheerfully. “Or at least, I'm working toward it.” He gave the nape of Sera's neck a kiss that managed to be both gentle and wildly stirring. The BRBs sighed. Sera turned pink as a Valentine's Day Peep, feeling a rush ten times headier than sugar flood her system.