Silk Stocking Inn: The Complete Series Page 35

  “Baby,” he groaned, “I could fuck you all day, every day and still not have enough of you.”

  I wrapped my arms and legs tighter and squeezed my thighs against him to let him know I wanted even more of him. His hands gripped my ass as he pushed harder against me, stirring up heat and friction against my clit. As the ocean sprayed its cooling mist over us, my body shuddered and writhed with an orgasm. My moan floated up into the blue sky and was lost in the canopy of trees.

  Turner gripped me so tightly, I thought he’d squeeze the air from my lungs as he pushed into me again. He kissed me hard as he came.

  Our breathing slowed, and I lowered my legs to the ground. A breeze brushed through the trees and tickled our wet skin. Turner reached up and pushed a hair off my face. The gesture, along with the accompanying smile, melted my heart a little more. Then he pulled me into his arms and held me.

  All I could think about was how hard it was going to be to drive away from the inn and from Turner.

  15

  After an afternoon that was, by far, one of the most romantic in my life, Turner had dropped me at the beach in front of the inn. He had to visit to the local filling station at the next marina. He promised to return in an hour.

  I hurried through a shower and got dressed in the clothes I’d arrived in. Coco had packaged up all the other clothes for me to take home. As hard as I tried to pay for everything, she refused. If there was ever an award for best innkeeper in the world, Coco would be a shoe in. She could also win for most magical and best cook and baker. She was truly extraordinary to the point that I was sure Rory wouldn’t believe one word of my weekend story. I was still having a hard time believing it. And, in the midst of it all, I had met a man who I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  I straightened up the room a bit and gathered my things, hoping that I’d find Turner down in the bakery. I headed downstairs and listened hard for the deep, mellow voice that I’d already memorized. I heard a few unfamiliar voices coming from the bakery along with the aroma of buttered rum cupcakes. I planned to buy a dozen to take to work in the morning. If nothing else, I’d have Coco’s unbelievable baked goods to add some credence to my otherwise outlandishly wonderful tale.

  Deep down I hoped that Turner and I would exchange information so that I would see him again. Rory would have no choice but to believe me if she met the romantic hero I’d found for my happy ending.

  As I walked past the front windows, a burst of pink color caught my eye. I gazed out and gasped in surprise. There were even more pink roses on the once skeletal rose vines, enough of them that their heavy perfume penetrated the leaded glass windows. Another impossibility and yet I was looking at the pink flowers and they were as real as the house I was standing in.

  I headed down the narrow hallway to the bakery. I heard the bell on the front door ring. My heart picked up speed along with my pace. I stepped into the bakery just as two people were leaving with a pink bakery box. I’d hoped the bell would be Turner, but with the two customers leaving, the bakery was empty.

  I walked to the window and looked out. The bakery window afforded a fairly clear view of the cove. There were a few pleasure boats anchored in the middle of the quiet blue water, but I couldn’t see the Pickled Pepper. At least not from where I was standing.

  “There you are, Ginger.” Coco was wearing a bright blue apron that contrasted nicely with her dark hair and olive complexion. She held up a pink bakery box. “I’ve packed you up some buttered rum cupcakes for the road.”

  I forced a smile. “Thank you so much. You’ve been so wonderful.” I walked to the counter. “Coco, have you, by any chance, seen Turner?” I tried my hardest to sound nonchalant as if I didn’t care either way if she’d seen him.

  “Oh yes, he came by about twenty minutes ago with three lobsters. I think you were in the shower.”

  My heart raced ahead just at the thought of him being here at the inn. “Great. I’ll just head outside to see him then. I needed to—uh—ask him something.” I had no idea just how much Coco had figured out, but she seemed to know my thoughts long before they even popped into my head. I knew my casual act wasn’t fooling her.

  Her eyes rounded. “Oh, but he’s gone now. Got called away. A friend’s fishing boat called in a mayday. Some kind of engine trouble. Turner headed out to help the stranded boat. I don’t expect to see him again today.”

  As hard as I’d worked at the nonchalance, I couldn’t hide my disappointment.

  Coco reached over and took my hand. “Are you all right? You look pale. I’ll get you a cup of tea.” She released my hand to leave.

  “No, Coco, I’m fine. No tea. I’m fine,” I repeated again, more for my own self-assurance than hers. My hand trembled slightly as I reached for the string on the pink box. “Again, I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You’re so welcome, and come again.”

  I walked toward the door.

  “Oh, and don’t forget, Ginger, love and romance keeps us all young and happy.”

  I looked back at her and caught another glimpse of creases around her eyes and mouth just before they disappeared. She inclined her head toward the window where a long vine of pink roses crept along a trellis. “I’ve heard it makes flowers bloom too.”

  I nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I headed out the door and glanced about on the slight chance that Turner had stuck around just long enough to say good-bye. But he was gone. Right along with my happy ending.

  16

  To say I lacked enthusiasm for the new work week would have been a severe understatement. I had to check my feet more than once on the walk from the parking lot to the building just to make sure I hadn’t accidentally tied cinderblocks to my ankles.

  I dragged myself into my office and was relieved to see that Rory was away from her desk. She had a tendency to want to spend the first five minutes of the morning catching up on our weekend activities. Of course, the ratio was always four minutes to one minute, her weekend to mine, because she had a glowing life and mine was always lackluster. For a change, I had enough adventure to fill the four minute slot, only my heart wasn’t in it. Mostly because I’d left it behind, tattered and torn, at the Silk Stocking Inn.

  Once I’d gotten over the initial sting of having Turner leave the inn without so much as a good-bye, I’d driven away with a heavy head and heart. The moment I’d turned away from the coast and headed in the direction of the freeway, I’d lost sight of the inn and Barbary Cove completely. Everything began to look familiar again, and I easily found my way back home where I promptly sat down at the computer to search online for more information about the Silk Stocking Inn and Barbary Cove. I couldn’t find a darn thing. It was as if they’d never existed. The only real proof I had was the pink bakery box with the Silk Stocking Inn label and the sublime cupcakes packed inside. Of course, in my sullen state of mind, I’d left the box sitting on the kitchen counter.

  I circled around to my chair. I turned on my computer and watched anxiously for it to start up. I sat back with disappointment as my regular desktop popped up. I had no idea why I thought the Silk Stocking Inn website would appear or how seeing it would help my mood. It seemed, more than anything, I just wanted to know that it had all been real, that I hadn’t just slept through the weekend and participated in a really long dream.

  I picked up the files I’d left on my desk for Monday morning. The best way for me to shake off the dark mood was to throw myself into my work. I reminded myself more than once that the weekend had been just a fantasy filled few days of great food and amazing sex. I’d deserved it. And if I could just get Turner out of my head, I could tuck away my unusual weekend as a really fond memory.

  I clicked on my digital day planner and groaned at the pop-up reminder about the ten o’clock meeting. It was definitely one of those days where I’d have preferred to sit alone with my ideas and thoughts, working on designs.

  Rory knocked and entered with a cup of steaming coffee. “It’s extra strong toda
y,” she started and then stopped when she reached my desk and got a good look at me. “And from the looks of it, this won’t be the only cup of the morning. What’s wrong? Bad weekend?”

  As she spoke, some of the other staff members hurried past my office, talking in excited voices.

  I turned my focus back to Rory. “Actually, I had the best weekend of my life.”

  Rory’s face lit up as she plopped into the chair in front of my desk. “I only have five minutes, but don’t leave out one sweet detail.”

  I shook my head. “It’ll take longer than five and I just can’t. Not now, anyhow. I’m sort of trying to piece it all together first.”

  She leaned forward. “Ginger? What on earth? You look almost stricken as if you’ve lost your best friend or something. Which I know can’t be the case because your BFF is sitting right here in front of you. We’re going to need to talk. I’ll order lunch to be delivered so we can eat here at your desk.” She hopped up. “Oh, and some of the board members are going to have a tour of the design center today. Just to let you know.”

  My shoulders sank right along with the rest of me. “I wish they’d just stay in their penthouses and on their yachts and leave us alone to do our work.”

  Two of the assistants from the mail room went rushing past my door.

  “Where the hell is everyone running to?”

  “Huh?” Rory turned around just as another group scurried past. “Oh, they’re all heading down to the first floor to watch.”

  “Watch what?”

  Rory’s eyes rounded. “You haven’t heard? A bird flew in through the glass doors and it’s flying around the lobby.”

  “Big deal. That’s happened before.”

  “Yes, but this time it’s not just a pigeon. It’s a parrot and apparently it keeps calling out ‘pretty girl’.”

  I sat there so stunned I couldn’t find my tongue.

  Rory blinked down at me. “Are you all right?”

  “Did you say a parrot?”

  “I think so. But then I’m no bird expert. It’s green and it can talk.”

  I shot out of my seat before she could ask where I was going. I headed for the elevator. I heard Rory’s heels clicking over the floor as she hurried to catch up to me.

  “I had no idea you were so interested in birds,” she said as the elevator doors opened. Several of our coworkers were inside.

  “Is the parrot still flying around?” I asked, out of breath from anticipation.

  “No, the bird has been caught,” Patty from the mailroom blurted as she stepped off the elevator.

  My heart sank, and I wondered if it was just a bizarre coincidence.

  “But you should see the dark haired hunk who caught the bird, or I guess maybe he owned the parrot because it flew right to his shoulder.”

  “Turner.” I dashed into the open elevator. Rory followed with a look of concern.

  I smacked the lobby button and the doors slid shut.

  “Ginger, what the heck is going on? You’ve got me worried sick.”

  “I’m sorry, Rory, but this weekend I met a man—” The doors slid open cutting short my rushed attempt at an explanation. I stepped out. Only a few of the early spectators were lingering. Most had returned to their offices and their desks. The one face I wanted to see was not anywhere to be seen.

  I looked frantically around but there was no parrot and no Turner. I headed toward the glass doors wondering if he was asked to leave the building. It would make sense.

  I raced outside and turned instinctively toward the parking lot.

  “Awk! Pretty girl!” Dexter screeched from behind.

  I spun around. Turner looked completely out of place on a busy city sidewalk with his long hair and slight swagger.

  “I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye,” Turner said.

  I shook my head. “Coco said you had gone out to help another fishing boat.” I walked toward him. Rory and a few of our coworkers had stepped outside to see where I’d run off to. She shot me a questioning look as I passed her.

  I reached Turner and realized my heart was pounding so hard I could almost hear it.

  “So, is that all you’re here for?” I asked. “A good-bye?”

  “Yes.” He took hold of my hand and pulled me closer. “But I was hoping it wasn’t a permanent good-bye.”

  “I’m hoping that too.”

  “Good. Then, I guess this is hello too.” He kissed me to a round of applause from my coworkers and encouraging squawks from the parrot on his shoulder.

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  Strong & Seductive

  Copyright© 2017 by Tess Oliver & Anna Hart

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  1

  Deep green eyes stared out at me from beneath perfectly shaped dark brows. His chiseled jaw was hidden beneath just the right amount of permanent black stubble. The gunmetal gray shoulder and chest plates only accentuated his incredible physique and daunting black metal gauntlets and spiked gloves glistened over his powerful arms and hands. He was pure hero eye candy from the top of the spiked mohawk on his head to the shit-kicker knee high boots on his feet. His trusty steed, a black stallion that transformed into a motorcycle when the terrain called for it, was being designed by Louis, the designer in the next work station.

  "Ziggy Holt, you are one hot computer graphic," I muttered to myself as I surveyed the close-to-final design. I did a little happy dance at my standing computer desk. Everyone in the company had to spend at least two hours a day with their computers hoisted in the air. Stan, the boss and owner of Phantasm Game World, insisted it was necessary to avoid what he termed as "Dreaded Flat Butt Syndrome", a plague which rendered its victims unable to wear pants properly. I, for one, was happy to be provided with a standing desk. When I was a kid, my parents called me antsy pants because I could never sit still. I never grew out of it. I particularly liked to shuffle around whenever I working on a digital exoskeleton or color layer. My mom also never dropped the nickname, an embarrassing little fact I discovered when she called me antsy pants last Thanksgiving in front of all the relatives. Of course, they all had a good laugh and decided to use it instead of my real name, Jennifer, for the rest of the night.

  I glanced at the time. I had a few minutes before the surprise meeting. Although, calling it a meeting was sort of an exaggeration. A team huddle, as Stan termed it, was more of a free for all where people could air grievances or brag about accomplishments. There was no real protocol in the boardroom. Phones weren't silenced, and sidebar conversations were frequent and expected. At times, there was so much chaos and noise in the 'huddle', I would actually pull out my earbuds and listen to music on my phone to drown it out. Stan didn't even care about that as long as I participated. Stan, my very sexy, rich boss, who knew damn well that he was sexy and, of course, rich, believed that the chaos nurtured creativity and team spirit. I wasn't completely convinced of his theory, but I didn't mind. It had to be better than sitting in a morgue-like boardroom with stuffy, backstabbing coworkers all trying to kiss up to the owner.

  Tanya, a team artist and my best friend, skipped down to my work area. "Jen, are you still ogling Ziggy Holt? Maybe if you wish hard enough, he'll just pop off that monitor, sweep you into his metal plated arms and carry you away. You know, like Officer and a Gentleman but with a sci-fi twist."

  "I do think he's mighty fine." I pushed up my sleeve to survey the tattoos on my wrist and arm. "I'm seriously thinking of getting him tattooed right here next to the star burst. Too ba
d guys like this don't stomp around in real life, killing off wraiths, ripping out souls and taking time in between for a good roll in the hay. Or, I guess, in Ziggy's world it would be fire and brimstone." I tilted my head to the side and stared at the three dimensional computer graphic, a graphic so lifelike he could fill a girl's mind with all kinds of dirty thoughts. "I'm still not convinced the spiky mohawk was the way to go." Tanya had been the lead artist on the Ziggy Holt character creation. She was extremely talented, and I loved being the teammate who took her drawings to the digital level. We worked well together. "I loved that cool, short cropped dark hair you had on him in the earlier sketches. I mean hair takes a bit more programming, but I for one am a big fan of the full head of hair. Besides," I lowered my voice and looked around to be sure my nosy, self-important neighbor, Ellen, wasn't in ear shot. She'd apparently left early for the meeting. "I'm not sure how that spiky mohawk would work for oral sex, if you catch my drift."

  Tanya snorted a laugh and elbowed me. "C'mon, Jenny, where's your sense of adventure? Now stop having erotic daydreams about our Ziggy, and let's head over to the meeting."

  "Right." I grabbed my tablet in the rare case that I needed to take notes or add to my daily planner.

  Loud voices and laughter were already bubbling out the open door of the boardroom. Tanya grabbed my arm to slow my pace as we watched Jordan, the new girl from the programming team, walk out of Stan's office. She was an exceptionally pretty blonde with big boobs and a lot of talent, or at least that was what I'd heard from the people in programming.