On The Dotted Line (5 page)

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Authors: Kim Carmichael

BOOK: On The Dotted Line
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Part
of her expected him to turn over to his side of the bed, but another part of
her loved the way he continued to hold her. She had no choice but to go with it,
but not get too close or too used to him. “This bed is comfortable.” She never
took for granted a clean, soft bed.

“I’m
glad you like it.” He tilted her face up to his and gave her three soft kisses.
“Should we sleep?”

“We
made it.” She rested her head in the crook of his neck. “What else do we need
to do?

“I’m
going to take care of everything.” He ran his hand through her hair.

Though
she longed to drift off, she fought her need for a moment to relish in his
words. No one besides Nan ever took care of her.

 

* * * *

 

Randolph
opened his eyes into a haze of dreamy gold. No buzzing of an alarm clock,
ringing vibration of a cell phone, or his own body jolting him out of his sleep
awakened him. He simply opened his eyes to a quiet, peaceful room with his
brand new spouse in his arms.

Spouse.

Her
hair covered his face, her light breathing let him know she still slept, and
best of all, her naked body contoured to his, waking up the rest of him. Somehow
he found the angel who rescued him from himself. They may have spent most of
their casual relationship taking spars at each other, but if last night were
any indication, the year would fly by leaving them both satisfied on multiple
levels. Hell, for the first time ever he made it through the night with another
person in the room with him. Normally he snuck out citing work as an excuse not
to stay when his own sleep issues were the true culprit.

With
her back turned to him, he ran his hand over the inward curve of her waist. He
took in her profile. His wife possessed a beauty rarely found in Los Angeles,
natural, sweet, and genuine. He lowered his head to her shoulder and gave her
an open mouth kiss.

“Um,”
she moaned and tilted her head giving him access to her neck.

He
took her invitation, trailing kisses and light nips up to her ear. While on his
watch her ear would never go unattended and he guided her lobe between his
lips.

“Randolph?”
Her voice low, sleep filled and breathy.

“Good
morning Mrs. Van Ayers.” He slid his hand up her perfect skin to her breast,
rubbing his palm over her already hard nipple.

“Good
Morning.” She twisted around to face him.

Her
cheeks flush with waking up and her tousled hair only served to enhance every
one of her features. No need for breakfast, instead he wanted to feast on the
woman in his bed, and get to know the person he would be spending the next year
with. He leaned forward and kissed her, something light, a little appetizer,
but enough to make him want more. “Come here.”

“I’m
right here.” Still, she turned over.

“That’s
better.” He moved her hair away from her eyes and kissed her again, a little
deeper with his tongue tangling with hers. His morning erection throbbed,
especially with the way she returned his attentions and lightly scratched her
nails down his arm.

“Randolph.”
She pulled back and pressed her fingertips to his lips.

“Yes.”
He wrapped his arm around her and swirled his tongue around her finger.

“I
didn’t expect you to be so…” She turned down to his chest.

At
the pink taking over her cheeks, he smiled. “So what?”

“So
passionate.”

“I
didn’t know you expected anything with me.” He let out a chuckle. Yes, he
caught her staring more than once, but he always thought she wanted to curse
him or cast a spell on him. “What else did you expect?”

The
pink turned to crimson.

“Well,
you know what?” He reached down to her leg and hooked it over his hip.

Through
her lashes, she peeked up at him. “What?”

“I
did expect you to be as limber as you are.” He raised his eyebrows and went to
kiss her once more.

A
pounding at the door interrupted them.

“Who’s
that?” She grabbed him.

“I
don’t know.” As if he could see through it, he looked over to the door, but
wanting to get back to the matters at hand, faced her once more. “Forget it. It’s
probably housekeeping.”

“Dolph!”
Peter yelled through the door and knocked again.

“Has
the man ever heard of a cell phone?” He tensed, vowing only to get up if the
man knocked again. If Peter was breaking down doors he must need something. After
all today was a workday.

As
if on cue, Peter knocked again. “I have your cell phone!”

“Damn
it. I have to let him in.” He glanced at Willow and slipped out of the bed,
running his hand through his hair. They made a complete and utter disaster out
of the room. “Let me get you a robe and I’ll order us breakfast.”

“I’ll
just go take a shower.” She wrapped the sheet around her, got out of the bed
and without a glance back in his direction, went to the bathroom.

Peter
resumed his knocking.

“Hold
on!” Instinct made him want to call for someone, anyone to clean up the mess,
but with no one there, he gathered up their clothes and other various things, tossed
them in the middle of the bed and threw the comforter on top. He frowned at the
lumpy bed, but forced himself to walk away, finding one of the robes he spoke
of and opening the door. “What?”

“First,
you left this with me.” Peter held up his cell phone.

“Really?”
On a normal day he wouldn’t have made it five feet away from his phone. He
plucked the device away from Peter. “What else?”

“Second,
I spent the morning rearranging your schedule, but you still have two
conference calls, one with the Hartfords on their investments. Slate called you
twice.” Peter shoved him aside and entered the room.

He
followed his assistant and glanced at his phone. Even though the damn thing
only held megabytes of data, the millions of the emails inside weighed his hand
down.

“What
the hell have you done in here?” Peter sat down at the table, took out his computer
and looked around the room, a smile taking over his face. “Did someone
consummate their union last night?”

He
joined Peter and put his head in his hand. “I need coffee and Willow needs food
and tea. I don’t know if she drinks coffee.” In truth he didn’t know much, if
anything, about her.

“I
ordered food.” Peter laughed and set up his computer. “I think I know less
about her than you do.”

“You
know we’re married.” He took a breath and opened his email, the blue bar at the
bottom slowly crawling across the screen, the number of messages already in
triple digits.

“She
doesn’t even like you.” Peter clicked away on the computer.

“She
likes me better now.” The corner of his mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “You
could have come about fifteen minutes later.”

“That’s
it? Fifteen minutes?” Peter broke into a round of laughter.

His
phone vibrated and like a trained dog he hit the button. Another five emails
came through. He scanned the messages and squeezed the device. “We need to get
back to LA.” There was no time for morning after sex and dealing with his wife,
he needed to keep with the task at hand and get to work. A rush of anxious
adrenaline coursed through him and he stood.

“What’s
up?”

“I
have a hundred calls to make. The more I put them off, the worse this is going
to get.” His head pounded, a headache would soon be on the horizon and he
squeezed the bridge of his nose. “We should have gone home after we finished
our business. Staying here was a complete waste of time.”

“Then
we should get going right away. We wouldn’t want to waste any more time.”

At
the sound of Willow’s voice, he lowered his hand.

In
a matching robe to his, his new wife entered, fresh from the shower with her
hair wet and slicked back and her skin glowing from the heat of the water. If
only Peter came fifteen minutes later. Maybe twenty. Fine, an hour. “I’m sorry,
we have to hurry. My absence from work was unplanned and I need to get back.”

“Boy,
the other girl didn’t even get an overnight trip.” She waved to Peter. “I have
work today too.”

“Speaking
of your work…” Before he finished the question his phone vibrated again. With
his jaw clenched he stared down at the screen. “My father emailed me.” One day
the sight of the man’s name wouldn’t cause him to break out into a sweat.

“Does
he know what happened last night?” Peter asked.

He
peeked over at Willow and couldn’t help but smile. “No. I think for once I’ll
blindside him instead of the other way around.”

“Your
mom is going to pass out. What would have been a surprise elopement is now
complete with a mystery bride.” Peter shook his head. “Did you tell Willow
about your mom?”

“Your
mom?” Willow crossed her arms.

“It
was in the contract.” Though she insisted on reading the document, she didn’t
pick up on some of the finer points.

“Maybe
the night was hectic, but I don’t remember any parents being mentioned.” She
crossed her arms. “Don’t blindside me.”

The
sweet woman who curled up to him in bed all but disappeared. He sauntered over
to the bed, threw back the comforter and in the pile of clothes located his
jacket, pulling out the folded contract. At least one of the copies. He turned
to the third page and held the paper out to her. “To paraphrase, my mother is
not aware of the marriage clause my father put in my contract, any mention to
her or a member of her circle of friends and family will result in a penalty.”

“You
would be penalizing someone who has nothing.” She lifted her chin.

“Not
this time next year.” Fine, she may not have read the contract, but she was
savvy.

“You
could have simply asked. I wouldn’t have said anything.” She walked around the
far side of the bed and rifled through the clothes. “Rather than trying to
control everything you should go with the flow more.”

Yes,
the woman was the type who kept their word, but he learned from the best and
put everything in writing. The flow didn’t exist in the land of the Van Ayers.

“What
did you want to ask me about my business?” She lifted his torn shirt between
two fingers.

“I
wanted to know the last time you paid rent to Jade and the amount.” The image
of the back rent made him itch like he wanted to break out into hives. It was
the first of many to-dos he had relating to her.

“Do
you need that now?” She dropped the shirt and picked up her dress.

“Peter.”
He pointed at the rags. “We need to be able to walk in public.”

“Let
me order you guys some stuff just to get to the airport. Food is on the way.” Peter
picked up the house phone. “Willow, the sooner we have that information the
better. We have a little time.”

“Okay.”
She wrinkled her nose at the dress, let go of it and retrieved her purse. “I
have my checkbook in here. Just give me a second.”

With
his phone in his hand he sat down at one of the side chairs. Again, he scrolled
through the emails avoiding opening the one from his father.

Out
of the corner of his eye he watched her dig through the oversized bag.

“Checkbook.”
She took her wallet out of the bag and opened it only to have two crumpled
dollar bills and several papers fall onto the bed.

“Peter.”
At the storm of items bursting forth from her bag, he swallowed. “Are we
getting coffee soon?”

She
dropped the wallet and resumed her digging. “Hmmm.”

“You
didn’t lose your checkbook did you?”

“No,
I put it here.” Without as much as a warning, she turned the bag over spilling
the entire contents of the bag onto the bed with their clothes.

Curiosity,
sick curiosity made him look, sort of like a ten car pile-up, or a train wreck,
or a big huge mess on the bed with no maid to clean it. “My, that purse
certainly holds a lot.” His mother’s handbags were little gems that cost small
fortunes. They held only enough to get her through a lunch or dinner and then
were returned to their dust bags and placed in order inside the closet specially
built for purses and accessories.

“Well,
I never know what I’ll need.” She rifled through the various things.

From
a hairbrush to makeup, to papers, stones, and even a candle, her purse was a
scavenger hunter’s dream. “Do you need to take this with you?” He leaned over, moved
aside two balls of yarn and plucked a long green feather out of the pile. They
should have used it last night.

“I
found that. It’s beautiful.” She took her treasure and set it aside. “I didn’t
have time to put it with the rest.”

“Oh.”
He didn’t want to think of what the rest entailed.

“Here
we are.” She unearthed an old, cracked blue plastic checkbook. “Let me see.”

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