Ken didn’t know how he was able to keep his hands to himself while Olivia tucked hungrily into her lobster ravioli, but he was glad he’d managed it. He liked having her near him and able to touch her whenever and as much as he wanted. The poor woman had to be practically starved, seeing as how they’d distracted her from both her lunch and dinner.
Room service had finally brought their meal up to Ken and Clint’s room at around ten p.m. All the sullen attendant had to say for herself was, “Sorry, we got backed up.”
Clint had tried to argue with the woman that she should take some pride in her service, but Olivia slipped in front of him, folded a five-dollar bill into the woman’s hand, and thanked her.
When she’d closed the door, Ken said to his lover, “Honey, not vinegar, Clint.”
Clint had rolled his eyes while Olivia laughed. “I’m a flight attendant. I get yelled at all the time, and it’s usually for no good reason. I know hard days, and it looks like she’s having one. Sometimes you have to be merciful to us customer service types.”
She’d nudged past the two of them and helped herself to some food, while Clint gave Ken a questioning look.
“What?” Ken asked.
Clint mouthed flight attendant?
Ken nodded. She’d told them that before, but he must have been in a lust-induced haze, and now it seemed the ramifications of her career choice had finally settled in.
He knew exactly what Clint was getting at.
In the present, Clint nudged his foot beneath the table and looked toward Olivia, who was buttering her bread in a precise manner. He made a subtle flapping gesture.
Oh.
Why couldn’t Clint ask for himself? It was as if he was scared of the woman or something. He’d never seen Clint like this.
“Liv,” Ken said, barely able to suppress a laugh. Clint narrowed his eyes to warning slits, but Ken soldiered on unaffected. “Where do you live when you’re not in the air?”
She chuckled. “I move every six months or so, just because I can. I usually lease a furnished corporate apartment or book an extended stay suite. I get to experience a lot of the country that way.”
“You’re homeless,” Clint said.
“That would be overstating things. I always have a roof over my head.”
“You have someplace to stay, but not a home.”
She set down her fork, and her forehead furrowed. “Well, I guess that’s true.”
Ken gave her left hand a gentle nudge. “You could live anywhere?”
“As long as I have easy access to an airport, yes. Why?”
“Never mind. Why’d you come here?” Clint asked. No one ever seemed too offended by the way he dominated conversations, although he often left his companions feeling a bit yanked around in a What just happened? sort of way.
Ken had experienced that on the day he and Clint met. In one moment, they’d been discussing batting averages and sponsorships, and in the next, Clint had leaned in, tugged on one of Ken’s ear gauges, and asked in a whisper. “Is your cock pierced, too?”
At first, Ken had been embarrassed by the brazen question, and then he realized no one else at the bar they’d retreated to after the concert was paying any attention to them. With Clint’s hand inching toward his crotch under the table, he’d grown impossibly hard, and answered the question right before Clint could grab him to learn for himself that Ken’s dick was perfectly intact.
Clint had pulled his hand away and leaned back, grinning before he put his beer up to his lips. Then he went right back to his previous conversation with his teammates, discussing the upcoming lineup and how much they all hated the new trainer.
Ken had sat there reeling.
Olivia set down her fork and folded her arms atop the table. “Why’d I come here? The same reason as everyone else, I guess.”
“You presume to know everyone’s reasons?” Clint asked, and he leaned his elbows onto the table, as well. He didn’t bother suppressing the look of incredulity on his face, but that was Clint.
“No, I don’t, but I imagine most people are here to have a no-strings-attached good time. That would be a huge draw to a lot of people, don’t you think? They could come here and play and not worry about being judged. They could give as little or as much information as they wanted, in order to protect themselves and their reputations.” She smiled. “I’m pretty sure I saw one of those television court judges this morning at breakfast. She was pulling a much-younger man through the buffet line behind her. He carried her plate and wore a collar and leash.”
“So you’re saying she can indulge in her fantasies then go back to her life?”
“Exactly. The woman doesn’t feel any affection for him.” She shrugged and picked up her fork. “He’s just a toy.”
“Then you’re here looking for a toy? Or toys, rather,” Clint asked.
She pulled her fork tines through the dregs of her sauce and stared at her plate. “No. I just wanted to shock myself a little. Jumpstart my passion, I guess.”
“Why shock? Isn’t that for people who have problems feeling emotion?”
“Maybe it is,” she said quietly. “Or maybe I expect things that no man can give me.”
“Like what?” Ken asked. The conversation had taken a decidedly downward turn, but he wanted to squelch his curiosity. If it were a matter of standards, perhaps neither he nor Clint met them. If that were the case, they needed to know it now before anyone got too attached. He feared he was already too late.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not even certain it’s something I can easily put into words, but I think I’d know it when I see it.”
She looked from Ken to Clint then down to her nearly empty plate again. She really had been hungry.
Clint pushed back from the table and cleared his throat. He moved a hand toward Olivia’s shoulder but pulled it back at the last second. She hadn’t even noticed the breach of her personal space.
Ken hated that in this place of impersonal interaction, it may have been pushing the limits of propriety to simply ask what was wrong. She wasn’t here for emotional entanglement. But he was already emotionally involved, and judging by Clint’s pained expression, Ken guessed he was, too.
They didn’t want to see her hurting.
Clint got up and went to the door. “O, would you like something for dessert? I was going to go downstairs for some air, and I can bring you something back. Or maybe I can call room service again before I leave.”
She gave him the barest grin. “I’m not sure Miss Burke would be so keen to see us again in such a short period.”
“You’re probably right.” Clint wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and pursed his lips contemplatively. What was he up to? Clint wasn’t generally the kind of man who needed to go off and think, so he had to have something else up his sleeve. “If you’re all right with hanging out with Ken for a while, I’ll bring something back up.”
She turned toward Ken. “Are you sick of playing host yet?”
“To you? Never. What’s the alternative? You go back to your room or down into the mass of bodies drinking and writhing down in the ballroom?”
“One of those sounds better than the other,” she said.
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Clint said and left. His words were probably intended to be a suggestion, but they came out sounding like a command.
Olivia looked confused, but before she could think too much on Clint’s actions, Ken grabbed her hand and pulled her up.
“Hey, let’s check out the balcony. We’ve got a view of the lawn and pool. I bet there are still folks out in the cabanas.”
She followed him wordlessly to the door, and he loosened his grip as he unfastened the lock. He didn’t want her to think she was being manhandled. He held her hand because he wanted to. It was delicate and small and fit perfectly in his. When they parted ways later, he’d remember her softness and carefree femininity. Everything about her, from the top of her impeccable hair down to the soles of her feet, was perfect. She was exactly his type, and he knew it from the moment he’d spotted her. He’d been watching her for days and had hoped Clint would drop a hint as to his interest. He thought Clint hadn’t even noticed her. When they decided to divide and conquer, Ken had made his move and was happy Clint was pleased with Ken’s discovery. No other women had stoked his fire in the same way.
He let go of her when they approached the railing, and she wrapped both her hands around the iron as she peered out at the dusk-shrouded lawn. “They’re still going at it down there,” she said reverently. “What do you think they’re doing?”
“Hmm.” Ken wrapped an arm around her back and put his hand on the railing next to hers. Their hips touched, and her shoulder grazed his chest. She put her head back to look up at him, and there was an unasked question in her expression that seemed to be, What are we doing?
It was a question he’d have to leave unanswered for the moment.
“I imagine they’re getting their fill of fancy wine and highbrow music. Probably some kissing going on as well.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot more going than kissing, if we’re any indication of what’s typical.” She looked down onto the lawn again.
“You’ve got to admit, it’s exhilarating getting to try things you never thought you’d experience.” He moved so he was right behind her, his feet bookending hers, and put his left hand on the railing. She didn’t turn, didn’t say a word to stop him. She just let her body mold against his chest as he leaned in and skimmed the tip of his nose along the satiny curve of her jaw. He pressed his lips to her warm neck and inhaled her sweetly cloying scent. It was fruity and floral all at once. Decadent, with just the right notes of womanly musk.
He wanted to lick her there and everywhere. Strip her nude and have his fill of her. He wanted to take her hard and fast the way desperate men took their women, then take her again slowly, thoughtfully, until she quivered beneath him and clawed her mark onto his back just like she had with her teeth on Clint. He wanted to take her home and love her up with Clint’s help, but he didn’t know how to build that bridge. How would they go from casual vacation fling to something more? Something serious.
“That feels good,” she whispered and teasingly ground her ass against his crotch.
He worked his hands down to the bottom of her dress, crushed it in his fists, and nudged it up to her hips. “Quit it, or you’ll be flying home with a limp and a smile.”
“Promises, promises,” she said.
“I really didn’t bring you out here to fuck you. I just wanted to talk.” He kissed her more, up the lobe of her unadorned ear to the top, where he pulled it between his teeth and let it snap back.
“Do you always talk with your body instead of your mouth?”
“Only when you’re around, apparently. I like you, Liv. It’s nice of you to put up with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, Clint’s ill-mannered because he can get away with it. I grew up the middle son with four brothers in the eastern North Carolina boondocks. As close to the swamps as you can get. My fingernails were only ever clean on Sundays, and that’s because my mean-ass granny would come across the field and crack the whip on us, so we’d go to church. My mom worked nights and slept days, and my dad just tried to keep the farm going.”
“Did you think I would view you as pathetic?”
“No, not pathetic. Country, though.”
“I don’t get that vibe from you.”
“I try hard to keep it under wraps. Get me tired enough, though, and the bumpkin comes out. Clint jokes my tattoos just cover up the farm dirt I’ll never be able to wash off. Hell.” He tugged at his shirt. “Clint picks out my clothes half the time. Left up to my own devices, I’d be in an old work shirt and cargo shorts.”
“Your shoes were a dead giveaway this isn’t your usual get-up. You hadn’t even cracked the leather.” She laughed. “Honestly, I would have been just as impressed by the work clothes. You’re built damn nice, Kenny.”
He couldn’t help but to laugh, too. “It’s been a long time since I’ve connected with a woman. Eleven years ago, I felt like every pretty lady I encountered talked down to me. I guess they thought I was stupid because I had a little twang in my voice.”
“If I’m nice to you, it’s because you’re nice to me. Simple as that.”
“I think that’s the flight attendant in you talking. You don’t have to waste your customer service reserves on me.”
“It’s not a waste. You make it easy to be nice. I get tired of having to work so hard at it.”
“Hmm.”
He knew what that was like, in a way. He spent a lot of time under cars but had to deal with customers every now and then. They’d cuss and argue about estimates and expenses, and he’d have to stand there and silently endure it. His scripted response, courtesy of Brent, was, “I could fix it for cheap, but if I do, you’ll just need it fixed again. Let me do it the right way the first time.” Sometimes they huffed and drove their junkers away, but for the most part, they told him to fix it then walked away cursing his mother under their breath. Clint told him he should quit. Financially, they could certainly swing it, but what would he do with himself? Be a stay-at-home boyfriend? Play more gigs with the band? Maybe do more community service. That wouldn’t be so bad, but he did like repairing cars, so he’d have to find another way to get his mechanic fix.
He sighed, and trailed his fingertips along Olivia’s inner thigh. “Hey, you never answered Clint’s question. Why did you really come here?”
“I did answer it.” She drew in a breath when he ran a finger down her pussy then swirled it around her swollen clit. “I answered the best I could.”
“Did you? I think you came here for more than a hookup. I understand wanting to wait for someone to come to you, but I think you were holding out for more than a kinky tryst.”
She hooked her right leg around Ken’s and put her head back against him. Then she moaned as he probed her. “Is this therapy?”
“I’m hardly qualified. I’m just a mechanic.” He set her leg down to the balcony floor and turned her around to kiss her.
She sucked on his bottom lip and slid her hands around to his ass. She grabbed it and kneaded it hard, just the way Clint did. Just the way he liked.
He slid his hands up to her face and broke the kiss. “Really, I just want to talk to you. Okay?”
“Is that your way of warning me about the upcoming gentle letdown?”
“Not at all, honey. I don’t want to let you down ever. I want to talk to you, because you’re soft and sweet, and that’s something Clint can’t give me.”
Her cherry-red lips parted, and he used his thumb to wipe away the lipstick he’d smudged. “You really mean it?”
“Yeah, I do. Come on. I’ll give you a comfortable shirt to put on.”
She tucked her arm through Ken’s, and he walked them toward the door. “I think I’ll take a shower first,” she said.
He pushed the French doors closed and fastened the latch. It shut out the music from the lawn and locked him in with Olivia. Ken went to his suitcase and found the shirt wadded beneath the pajamas he hadn’t yet worn. Clint had told him to pack them just in case, but that just in case scenario hadn’t happened yet. He handed it to her, and she nodded her thanks before heading toward the bathroom.
Everything about her was damned irresistible, and as she showered, he struggled to compartmentalize and prioritize everything he wanted or needed to accomplish.
The bathroom light clicked off, and she stepped out while buttoning the last button on the shirt.
“Maybe we can finish that bottle of wine,” he said. “When we leave here, I probably won’t touch the stuff again, unless I attend a wedding or something.
“Not fond of wine? You sure came to the wrong event, then.”
“It was either this event or wait until winter. Clint didn’t want to wait.”
“I see. Do you always do whatever Clint wants?”
“A happy Clint makes me happy. He’s really not that hard to please, once you understand what makes him tick.”
“Sounds like a lot of work, being in a relationship like that.”
“I’m sure you’ve been in enough.”
“A few,” she said.
“Never wanted to commit?”
“Never really found anyone worth me upending my plans or career for.”
“That’s cold.”
“It’s the truth. My sister thinks I’m incapable of long-term relationships, of permanency, and likes to throw her happy nuclear family bullshit in my face during every family gathering.”
“You don’t want that?” He grabbed the bottle of wine from the table, along with two glasses, then sat on the right edge of the bed. He shucked off his shoes.
“What? A home, a spouse, and a couple of kids?”
He nodded.
She shrugged. “Sure, I guess, but not at the expense of not having passion. That’s what missing from my sister’s life. Everything is rote and predictable. No room for surprises, and God forbid anyone toss a monkey wrench into her perfectly coordinated life.”
He patted the bed beside him, and she flopped there. He handed her a glass of wine.
She sipped for a while, staring at him over the rim.
“You’re not cut out for the white picket fence life, are you?”
She closed those dark eyes and shook her head slowly. “My job keeps me hopping, and I like the adventures it takes me on even if I hate the company. I guess there are only two things missing from my life.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, I travel without ever seeing much of the places I visit. I’d like to change that. It’s not enough to be in the world, if I can’t witness it. I just don’t want to experience it alone.”
The room door creaked open.
“Second, I want to go home to a house that has someone in it.”
Well, he and Clint could take care of that.
Clint came over to the bed with three napkin-covered bowls and stared at Olivia.
“I’m sure I sound pathetic,” she said and put her glass to lips again.
Clint tore his attention from Olivia to look at Ken.
Say something, Clint. Tell her what you want.
Clint had a knack for surprises. Maybe this time, he’d have some magic for them.
Clint cleared his throat and eased to the side of the bed. He set one bowl on the nightstand, one on Ken’s lap, and passed one over to Olivia. “It’s a pretty deadly chocolate mousse. Ken hates chocolate, so he’ll pretend to be a gentleman and offer you his, then I’ll offer you mine, too, so you don’t think he likes you more than I do.”
There was his charming boy.
She grinned as she pulled the crisp, white cloth off the glass bowl. “I couldn’t dare let it go to waste. All those poor cocoa beans sacrificing themselves for my unrefined palate. I’d better make their short lives meaningful.” She slid the spoon between her lips then drew it out slowly. She turned toward the ceiling with a look of ecstasy. “Damn, I could get used to this.”
Ken wrapped his arm around her shoulders and grabbed his glass from the nightstand. “What, the mousse or the company?”
Clint turned his back and walked toward the balcony doors, as if he was afraid to hear her response.
“The company, silly.”
Clint stopped and turned. Relief brightened his eyes and flooded his cheeks.
She swirled the spoon through the mousse and crossed her legs at the ankles. “Of course, I’m not foolish enough to hold out hope that situations like this happen in real life. I’m too old for fairy tales, and that’s exactly what it would be.”
Ken opened his mouth to refute her statement, but the balcony doors slammed before he could get the words out. Clint was playing the pessimist, and Ken wanted more than anything to go out there and shake some cool into him. Something was really wrong if Ken was being the aggressive one, and he knew exactly what.
Clint was afraid he’d fuck this up.
Olivia nudged Ken’s ribs with her elbow. “Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you two rent or own?”
“Own. We’ve got a house on two wooded acres and no close neighbors. Clint says he likes it that way, because no one can hear me scream.”
Her shoulders shook with laughter, and when she made the cutest snorting sound, he had to laugh, too.
It was such a silly thing. A stupid little joke, but she got why it was funny.
But of course, she would. She just fit, and there was nothing fairy tale about it.