Friends and Lovers Trilogy 03 - Seduced (10 page)

“So, do you two have anything else in common? Hobbies?” She came up behind him, her voice tinged with blatant suggestion. “Size of your shoes?”

He mentally banged his head against the top shelf.

“I’m partial to Italian sausage.”

His shaft throbbed in answer to her husky declaration.

“Some people like it sweet, but I say the spicier the better. How about you?”

His rising temperature burned away vital brain cells. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on her stunning face. Suddenly, he was transported back to the time in Atlantic City when he’d kissed her out of frustration. He licked his lower lip, remembering the taste of her, the feel of that luscious body when she’d succumbed to his will. “What do you think?”

She arched a sassy brow, intimating she’d hopped the same memory-train. “I think you like it hot.”

His skin tingled as her arm snaked around his waist and grabbed his sausage—recently purchased at the local butcher shop.

She withdrew the cellophane-wrapped package from the shelf, read the label. “I was right. Hot.”

Bitch. And he thought that with the utmost respect. She was damned good with the innuendoes. He braced himself for a smug grin. Instead, her expression was one of pure innocence. Yeah, right. He’d seen that look before. “Spy Girl”. Episode Six:
The Hunt
.

Sofia was playing him. But why? He wasn’t connected to Hollywood or New York. He couldn’t do jack for her art.

“This
is
what you were looking for, right?” she asked sweetly. “Meat for the sauce?”

He calmly shut the fridge door, claimed the sausage, and moved back to the stove, mindful that his pole was still at half-mast. “Do you want spaghetti or linguini?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’m not surprised.” He wasn’t in the mood to discuss the evils of carbs and starch. “Spaghetti or linguini?”

“Maybe I need to work up an appetite.” She gently scraped her tigress claws along his forearm.

He probably imagined the seductive purr. Regardless, he’d had enough of this game. Like he needed her to turn up the heat on his personal hell. “Maybe you do.”

Her lush mouth curved into a cat-ate-the-mouse smile. “Got any ideas?”

He clicked the burner off and nabbed Sofia’s hot little paw. “One or two.”

Rainbow Ridge, Vermont

R
udy narrowed his choices down to three and then placed his order at
Amazon.com
. Access to the Internet had been iffy all afternoon. He’d been knocked off-line several times while perusing books on parapsychology. He didn’t know whether to blame Casper, his Internet server, or the phone company. Not that it mattered. The result was the same. A wasted afternoon and threadbare nerves.

For a moment he lamented purchasing a bed and breakfast twenty minutes from civilization in any direction. DSL and cable had yet to come to Rainbow Ridge. Then again, he’d been drawn to Hollyberry Inn because it
was
so isolated. He’d discovered serenity in wooded hillsides and endless sky. No casinos. No malls. No alternative dance clubs to tempt him back to his old trolling ways. His closest neighbors: two competing B and B’s and a popular roadside tavern. The proprietors, according to his gaydar, June-and-Ward-Cleaver straight.

It’s not that he had any inclination to stray. He’d learned his lesson on that score. Seeking satisfaction, emotionally or physically, through casual sex was a quick fix. A cop out. He was stronger than that. Better than that. Self-help books and affirmations had steered him down the right path—
I am
open and ready for a serious, long-term relationship
—but it had taken a major misstep to drive the concept home. A misstep he regretted to this day. A misstep he and Jean-Pierre had yet to openly discuss.

Jean-Pierre maintained details were insignificant.

Rudy had been so desperate to put the ugliness behind them, that he’d welcomed the man’s blind forgiveness. Now, he deliberated the wisdom of that decision. Mostly because his betrayal wasn’t as tawdry as what he knew Jean-Pierre assumed. What if that misassumption had been festering all these months? What if the details
did
matter? How could he propose a lifetime commitment when the possibility loomed they’d be building a future on shaky ground?

Rudy tapped his fingers on the mouse pad and stared at the empty inbox of his AOL account. More than ever he longed to clear the air. In the past four hours, he’d sent the man two emails and, between his cell and home phone, had left five voicemails. Jean-Pierre had yet to return a single message.

Rudy didn’t know whether to be worried or irritated. Either JP was more pissed about the postponed reunion than he’d admitted last night, or he
couldn’t
return the calls. Meanwhile, Rudy’s brain cranked out a dozen catastrophes that could have befallen his lover, including such goodies as a drive-by shooting or freak household accident.

Ironically, he’d put Jean-Pierre through this same hell the night of his betrayal. He’d driven around in a daze, avoiding confrontation rather than placing a simple phone call to let his lover know he was alive and well.

Rudy was getting a taste of his own medicine and it tasted like shit on a Ritz. Aggravated, he abandoned the computer and his tiny office in favor of the kitchen and a cup of apple-cinnamon tea. He’d prefer a glass of wine, but Casper had confiscated his stash. He could steal away to Pearl and Earl’s Tavern, but he didn’t want to risk missing a call from Jean-Pierre. The cell phone reception in this area was spotty. He’d have to settle for a cup of tea and an hour of meditation on the front porch swing.

Five minutes later, steaming cup in hand, Rudy stepped outside and settled on the traditional red cedar swing. The unfinished wood creaked beneath his weight. He relaxed against the sloped backrest, sipped his aromatic tea, and focused on positive thoughts. At least he didn’t have to worry about putting on a happy face and playing Martha Stewart to an inn full of guests.

Again, the wood creaked. The comfort springs twanged. A ripple of dread shot up his spine a split second before one of the hanging chains snapped and the left side of the bench seat collided with the porch. Rudy hit hard and careened sideways. Hot tea splattered. His ass smarted and his thighs burned. He pushed himself up, cursing Casper to hell.

He swore he heard laughter.

Rather than ramming his fist through one of the four porch posts, he muttered the sentiment he’d shared with Afia last summer when her life had taken a downward spiral. “No matter how bad it seems, it could always be worse.”

A beat later, the sentiment proved true when car tires crunched over pea rock.

“He doesn’t look happy to see us,” Murphy said.

“Nope.” Jake killed the motor. “Looks pretty pissed.” He took off his sunglasses and slid Afia a scolding look. “Then again, he did ask us not to come.”

Afia massaged her wrist, a nervous habit from her past. She didn’t regret coming, but she did regret tricking her husband and Murphy. They’d made their displeasure evident while awaiting roadside aid. Jake had been against her flying to begin with. To know she’d arranged a trip against Rudy’s wishes really burned his butt. She’d almost kissed the tow truck driver when he’d arrived with a new tire as he’d saved her from yet another lecture on her “delicate condition”.

Murphy’s reaction was to the opposite extreme. He’d fallen into tension-filled silence. She didn’t know how Lulu stood it. At least Jake got his anger out and over with. Mostly.

“Rudy doesn’t know this car. He doesn’t know it’s us,” Lulu volunteered. “He’ll perk up. You’ll see.” She didn’t wait for Murphy to come around and help her out. She pushed open the back seat door and sprang out, that adorable pink poodle purse looped over her arm.

Afia tried to follow suit, but her big belly and a spasm in her right calf made it impossible to move with the same pep and speed as Lulu. Hard to believe the golden-haired sprite was almost five years her senior. Afia wholly admired the professional storyteller’s childlike aura. Oh, to be that confident and carefree. Self-confidence had long been an issue for Afia. She’d mostly conquered her insecurities, but now and again they reared. Like now.

Suddenly Jake was there, his strong arms easily shifting her from the car to the gravel driveway. “He sees it’s us,” he grumbled in her ear. “Still looks pissed.”

That’s what had her insecurities flaring. Had Rudy’s moving hundreds of miles away taken a toll on their friendship? The notion shook her to the wedge heels of her Via Spiga mules. True friendship, something she’d experienced little of in her sheltered life, was far more precious to her than her inherited fortune. Long ago, she’d bought Rudy a limousine to help him launch his own chauffer business. It seemed only fitting that he’d recently sold that car to help finance his new dream. It never occurred to her that
she
wouldn’t somehow fit into his new life.

Gritting her teeth against the calf spasm, Afia waddled toward the Inn. Pictures hadn’t done the rambling two-story lodge justice. Rich wood exterior. White paned windows flanked by hunter green shutters. Two cobblestone chimneys. The overall classic design echoed a bygone era. Elegant in its simplicity, Hollyberry Inn looked warm and welcoming.

More than she could say for its owner.

Closing in, she noted the broken swing, fractured mug, and Rudy’s wet lap. Maybe the mishap, and not their arrival, was the source of his foul mood. One could hope.

She climbed the steps, with Jake’s help, and moved forward to hug her old friend. The tension in his normally loving arms was unsettling. She backed away, eyed the swing, then the chauffer turned resort owner. “Are you all right?”

His troubled gaze shifted from her swollen belly to the broken swing. “I don’t want you here, Afia. Dammit, I told you I needed to postpone. It’s not safe.”

Through the years, this man had accepted her on any terms, unconditional love. He’d stood beside her even when rumors circulated that she’d offed two husbands to inherit their fortunes. Aside from Jake, Rudy Gallow was her most cherished friend, and now he was pushing her away. She fought hard to stem welling tears. If she cried, Jake would give Rudy the riot act. Normally, her bulked-up friend could easily defend himself, but there was nothing normal about this moment. “Why? Just because of some faulty wiring and a broken swing? Jake can fix the swing.” She looked up at her husband, a man she thought capable of snatching stars from the sky if he put his mind to it. “Right?”

Jake interlaced his fingers with hers and lovingly squeezed, letting her know that he understood her distress. He peered up at the broken hook and chain dangling from the ceiling. “How hard could it be?” He eyed Rudy. “As for your wiring problems, Murphy’s a whiz with all things electronic.”

“On it.” Murphy moved in beside them with Lulu in tow. “Just tell me what you need, Gallow.”

Lulu rushed forward and threw her arms around Rudy, telegraphing her sincere fondness for the man. It spoke well of Murphy that he didn’t even raise a brow. Obviously, he was confident in their relationship. “It’s a beautiful property,” she said, kissing Rudy on the cheek and then stepping back with a bright smile. “Jean-Pierre’s going to love it.”

Cheeks flushing, Rudy averted his troubled blue gaze.

His strange behavior verified something was amiss. Knowing the boys had experienced a few rocky months, Afia shifted uncomfortably, worrying that Rudy had broken off with Jean-Pierre. Or vice versa. It would be just like him to withhold bad news for fear of upsetting her. He and Jake had sheltered her from the truth more than once. She sighed heavily, weary of their overprotective tendencies. For once she wished someone would lean on
her
.

Misreading her discomfort, Jake raised a brow at Rudy. “Are you going to invite us in, dude? Afia needs to get off her feet.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve been sitting in the car for hours.” She smiled up at Rudy with all the love in her heart.
Lean on me
. “I need to stretch my legs. How about a tour of the grounds?”

“I’ll get the luggage.” Murphy nudged Jake and pointed to the ladder leaning against the corner of the house. “You get started on the swing.”

Jake kissed Afia’s temple. “Don’t overdue it, baby.” He rapped Rudy on the shoulder. “Take good care of my girl.” Then he readjusted his ball cap and set off to play repairman.

Lulu had already located a broom and was sweeping up the broken mug.

It was then that Afia knew her husband and new friends sensed the same trouble she did. They were pulling together and digging in. Now that they were here, there’d be no getting rid of them until Rudy’s problems were solved. A caretaker at heart, he’d played Cupid and the voice of reason in their lives. It was time to return the favor.

Squaring her shoulders, Afia grasped Rudy’s big hand and tugged him toward a clump of leafy trees. “So. Who’s Casper?”

Los Angeles, California

W
e’re jinxed.”