Raindrops on Roses: Book One of the Favorite Things Trilogy (4 page)

"Hey you," he said, hoping
she wouldn't notice how rumpled he looked—or how sad he
felt.
Relax,
he
told himself.
She'll just think the
funeral got the best of you.

She got up and walked over to him, slipping
her arms around his waist. "Memories?" she asked, searching his
eyes.

He shrugged. "Yeah, it was pretty rough. But
still, they did give her a nice send off." Michael returned the
hug, praying she wouldn't ask what had kept him out until five in
the morning.

"Lasagna's on the bar,"—she indicated the
dish—"but we can just put it away for later."

"No, no," Michael said,
giving her an uneasy smile, "let's have some now. I feel bad that
you tried to wait up and I'm
really
sorry. I should've called but there was just so
much going on, you know? So many people there to talk to. It was
crazy."

"Yeah, but you could've texted me back, at
least," she replied. "Anyway, if you're sure about lasagna for
breakfast, I'm game. Let's eat."

They went into the kitchen and got busy
heating up. Soon after, a delicious smell wafted through the air as
Amber poured orange juice. She handed Michael his favorite dinner
plate, then threw a light salad together.

Once they sat down to eat, she said, "So,
how'd it go? What famous people did you meet? I saw on the news
that most of the big name recluses came out for it."

"Yeah," Michael grumbled, "and it turned
that poor woman's funeral service into a goddamn media circus." He
dug into the lasagna, shaking his head. "Dad was like, 'just ignore
it,' but that was next to impossible."

"Well, I offered to go with you for
support," said Amber, "but you told me to stay home and work...that
it wasn't necessary for me to come."

He saw now from her
demeanor that her feelings had been hurt. "Well," he said, avoiding
her eyes, "maybe I was wrong." He watched as her face relaxed and
thought,
Why's she so sensitive
lately?

When they finished eating, Amber put the
dishes in the sink and then immediately slipped into her mating
dance. Smiling, she opened the refrigerator and Michael watched
from hooded eyes as she produced a tray of chocolate-covered
strawberries. Despite the circumstances, he felt compelled to
return her amorous smile. Didn't he have to? Even as his body still
reeled with the sweet aftershocks of having just made love to
someone else?

Swaying back over to the table, Amber placed
her lips firmly against his ear and whispered, "So how 'bout you
come into the bedroom and help me eat some of these, hmm?" She put
the tray in front of him and stroked his cheek.

"Sounds delicious," he replied, not quite
meeting her gaze.

Lacing their fingers, she led him into their
bedroom, where soft pink curtains draped the windows and red satin
sheets clothed the bed in a rich blend of Amber’s favorite colors.
She began undressing herself, her clothes quickly hitting the
carpet to reveal a fresh Brazilian wax. Then she climbed into the
bed and motioned for him to join her.

Armed with a strawberry, Michael teasingly
ran it over her lips before slowly feeding it to her.

She quickly reached for his belt. "Baby, you
should get a little more comfortable." Then she began teasing him
with her tongue, helping him undress.

Once he was completely naked, she plucked
two of the strawberries from the tray, fed him one and lay back
against the pillows with the other, partially inserting it into
herself. "So now you know where to go if you want more," she said
with a grin.

Michael obliged. With any luck, he could
make her forget he'd been out all night.

•
CHAPTER FOUR •

L
ater that morning, Michael woke up feeling slightly hung
over—complete with sticky chocolate sauce all over his chest and
his...other parts. Amber was still fast asleep beside him and her
face seemed to radiate love for him even as she slept.

For a few minutes he just laid there,
staring at her.

Jesus, what happens
now?
he thought.
I certainly can't keep this up.

The funeral seemed like a lifetime ago. And
meeting Priscilla Bauer? Still like a dream. It had been less than
twenty-four hours since he'd met her, but now she was all he could
think about.

Gently moving Amber's arm
off his leg, Michael left the bed and went to take a shower hoping
it might clear his head, but he was consumed with memories. The way
her body had felt beneath him. The way her body had
moved
with his. Her
passionate moans. The delicious way she had kissed him. Her
scent.

Sweet Jesus.
He wouldn't make it through the day if this
didn't stop...

Walking into the bathroom,
he went right up to the mirror and looked himself in the eye—and
that's when he
knew
.

It was already too late. Too late to try
talking himself out of pursuing her. She had left him aching,
craving much more of her company.

And although they had been together since
high school, he didn't feel this way about Amber—and now he could
see that he never had. Raw and exciting passion was a definite
first for Michael Frost.

But how did you break up
with the girl you lived with? Did you just
leave?
And when would he tell her?
Where would he go? And what if things didn't work out with
Priscilla Bauer—would he want to come back to Amber?

These questions strained him, but still they
were no match for the unforgettable evening he'd had at Emerald
Leas: The soulful music that had scored the occasion. The profound
love she had clearly had for her grandmother. Her palpable grief.
The formidable efforts she'd made to smile and graciously accept
condolences from her guests.

Not to mention the unforgettable hours they
had spent together in her bed.

Despite everything, Michael smiled
ear-to-ear as he stepped into the shower reliving every moment.
More than anything else in the world, he wanted to learn more about
Priscilla Bauer and he wouldn't let anything get in the way of
that. The mere idea of seeing her again excited him and made him
feel happier than he'd felt in years, since he was a young boy.

The pulsing hot water hitting his back felt
amazing, almost therapeutic, so Michael stood under the spray
longer than usual, allowing himself this time alone to think. He
realized that he'd been feeling this change coming for over a year
now—a vague unhappiness that meeting another woman had exposed, in
high definition.

Amber was his high school sweetheart and he
would always remember their relationship warmly, but oddly enough,
once they had moved in together, Michael had begun feeling like the
relationship had run its course. Perhaps he'd outgrown it? He
wasn't quite sure what had happened.

She loved him a lot. That
was undeniable; and he wasn't quite
un
happy...but he hadn't exactly
been
happy
over
the years either, he realized. And now that he had met someone
else, he was seeing just how badly he
wanted
happiness.

As he scrubbed off the chocolate, he thought
about how hurt Amber would be when he told her it was time they
moved on. Since he'd never been in this position before, the
thought was making him very uneasy.

Can it ever really be over
between us?
he wondered.
Can we go from expecting to live our entire lives
together to just being friends?
They were
complicated questions. And if there was one thing Michael Frost
hated, it was feeling...
complicated
.

Throwing himself into his shower, he got
busy going through the motions, washing and rewashing, letting the
hot water and steam saturate the full six feet of his body. But as
the water cooled, he snapped out of it. Now it was time to get out
and face the music.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went
into the kitchen to put the coffee on and check out the morning
news. He had recently installed a mini-flat screen up over the
counter for Amber and now he realized he liked this spot as well.
It was perfect.

Amber strolled in just as the coffee started
brewing, smiling the memories of their early morning sexcapade.

As Michael watched her beam, his resolve
weakened. He suddenly realized he wasn't ready to cross the Rubicon
just yet...

You'll know when the time
is right
, he thought. "Nice to see you up,
sleepyhead," he said, handing her a cup of coffee to sweeten. "I
think they could've moved our apartment and you wouldn't have
budged."

"Well, you gave me a lot to sleep off," she
teased back and plopped into a chair at the table. Then she got
busy sweetening her coffee. "So what do you have planned for
today?"

Michael got the "let's
play hooky" vibe loud and clear, one of their favorite pastimes
over the years—they would stay home, order in and have interesting
sex all over the house while everyone else was out in the rat race.
It
was
great
fun.

With an apologetic glance
he said, "Sorry, full day at the office." The fib came out smoothly
enough and he took comfort in the fact that it wasn't a
complete
lie. He did
have work to do, it just wouldn’t take him all day.

Leaning down, he rubbed her nose with his.
"Don't look so glum." He gave her a quick kiss. "Aren't we going
away this weekend?"

"
Yes
, and I can't wait..." Amber
trailed off as she sipped her coffee, then she looked up at
him.
I've been missing you
was in her gaze. But she didn't say anything
else.

Just then, a local news report began on
coverage of Veronica Bauer's funeral.

God,
he thought, glancing at Amber.
She'd
absolutely hate me if she knew where I'd been last night.
The thought hadn't really crossed his mind until
now and Michael watched her closely as she got up to make them both
Toaster Strudels.
But there's no reason
for her to find out, is there? The fact that we became lovers
before the break up isn't really relevant to Amber in any way
whatsoever—she never has to find out.

He felt somewhat better as he looked out the
kitchen window, wondering if it meant he was simply becoming a bad
person—or worse—more like his father, who had cheated on Michael's
mother throughout most of their marriage.

Suddenly, he couldn't get out of the
apartment fast enough. "I have to go get dressed," he said, rubbing
her shoulders. "Make it a good day, okay? I'll call you later."

•~•

Outside, it was a nice sunny day as he
headed for the office park. But inside, Michael felt a huge storm
brewing.

The drive to the office went by in a blur as
he mulled over his options for breaking up with Amber—a move that
would change both their lives forever.

How did you end a ten-year
relationship? At this point, Michael's
desire
to be free seemed much
stronger than his ability to reach freedom from where he was. It
was...
complicated
.

So before he knew it, he had parked and
entered the office building. When he got into his office, he
flipped on the lights and came face-to-face with his father sitting
in the chair behind Michael's desk. His dad's own office faced the
parking garage so he must've seen Michael drive in. For a moment,
they just watched each other in the air-conditioned silence.
Michael looking defensive. Larry, reproachful.

"Where were you?" he finally asked, his tone
quiet.

"I left, Dad," Michael
replied coolly. "That's all." Whether his father believed him or
not, was irrelevant. He took a seat near the office window and
dropped his leather satchel on the floor.
Might as well do this now
, he
thought.

"No," his father
continued, "that's
not
all. When I left, your car was still there but you two had
disappeared. Where'd you go?"

"Look, Dad," he said, steadying his hands.
"If you want your drafts on time, I think you'd better just let me
get to it."

Larry got up, his body strained and tense
beneath his black button-down.

Michael could feel his father's usual bid
for control coming at him full force, clear across the desk.

"Please don’t be an idiot
for a pretty girl." Larry walked over to the door and pulled it
open. "When I retire early in a few years, you’re taking over this
business, Michael. Show me you're smart enough to handle it. Show
me you
deserve
it."

It was a thinly veiled
threat that sounded hollow and empty to Michael's ears. Whether he
deserved it or not, he knew his father would never entrust Frosted
Designs—his life's work, his pride and joy—to anyone else.
There
was
no one
else.

Once the door closed,
Michael exhaled and fell into his chair, in deep thought about the
reality of pursuing Priscilla Bauer. There would be challenges to
overcome both at work
and
at home.

Would it be worth it?

Pushing the issue to the sidelines for the
moment, Michael threw himself into his current project and worked
right through lunch, only dropping his pencil when he began to feel
hunger pangs. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched. His mind ran
on Priscilla and he itched to call her...